Reading Well: Shadow & Claw by Gene Wolfe

Posted on May 12, 2017 by Daniel (@MKNN)

Shadow & Claw (1983) by Gene Wolfe is a little complicated in form: it contains two novels–The Shadow of the Torturer (1980) and The Claw of the Conciliator (1981)–which themselves comprise the first half of a series known as The Book of the New Sun.

It could be described in terms that are quite familiar: a student at a specialized (at least mystical, if not magical) institution undergoes a trauma that forces them to leave and wander, in search of their destiny.

And while true, that would also grossly undersell the book. The institution is compelling: the protagonist is raised in a guild devoted to the art of torture, and their place within society is never quite clear. This ambiguity extends to other parts of the society as well: the ruler may be a savior, or he may be a despot; the existence of magic is undeniable, but inexplicable; etc.

There are hints throughout Shadow & Claw of a grand destiny, of a kingship yet to be discovered. In some ways, I hope that proves untrue: Wolfe’s writing is strongest in the smaller moments, in the cast of characters encountered, and in the slow discovery of the world he has created. There is a “play within a play” element that may seem unfulfilling, but the rest of the writing more than makes up for it.

The narrative is more meandering than sweeping, and that may not be everyone’s cup of tea. It is a reminder that, perhaps as an antidote to the formulaic demands of contemporary publishing, sometimes the best thing is to wander with an author, seeing a new world through their eyes.

#WhatIWishICouldDo

Wolfe is shockingly, expansively literate, to the point of creating an entirely new lexicon of invented, yet highly believable terms. Fuligin, the color darker than black; thalamegii, a boat powered by magic; metamynodon, a domesticated beast of burden. And that ignores the words that are obscure or entirely out of circulation that he revives: carnifex, anagnost, nidorous, quaesitor.

The intelligence sparkles throughout the text, yet somehow without being either overly obtuse or off-putting. That’s quite an accomplishment.

Posted in Culture | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Reading Well: Horns by Joe Hill

Posted on April 30, 2017 by Daniel (@MKNN)

Horns is a taut novel that, while strongly supernatural, stops short of being a work of horror. The premise is relatively simple: one day, the protagonist wakes up having grown horns which, among other effects, make others reveal their darkest desires to him (they also lead to him eventually being followed around by hundreds of snakes, so there’s that).

It’s an interesting premise, even if the warping effect where everyone’s secrets arc towards hate, spite, and deviancy is never really probed. Layered on top of this is a truly amoral character, someone who, it turns out, is far more evil and dangerous than the demonic impact of the horns.

It’s a contemporary page-turner, well written, creepy in all the right spots, and with just enough character development to make you care about how the various storylines all end up.

The use of set and setting is notable: there are a few distinct locations that are introduced, become iconic, and are present both in the current story line and in various memories and flashbacks. It works well to ground a supernatural story in some solid realism. It also contributes to my sense that I can’t imagine there aren’t discussions of a movie in the works …

#WhatIWishICouldDo

I’ve written this before, but, plot. The pace is good, there are surprising twists and turns, and it all comes together in a satisfying climax and denouement.

Posted in Culture | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Reading Well: Prodigal Summer by Barbara Kingsolver

Posted on April 18, 2017 by Daniel (@MKNN)

Barbara Kingsolver‘s Prodigal Summer (2000) is a lovely book. But it’s Kingsolver: we expect no less. There are three adjacent plot lines throughout the book: each chapter, save one, is titled Predators, Old Chestnuts, or Moth Love, and while the characters are either related or known to each other, the storylines never truly overlap.

The characters are compelling, and the depth of emotional insight that Kingsolver displays is remarkable; again, we expect no less. This is also very much a novel of place: the single mountain and valley in Tennessee that holds the action is as much a character as any of the humans, as are the animals, especially the moths and a wayward pack of coyotes.

The strength of the novel is its exploration of relationship–of a love that is lost, of one that may be gained, and of one that surprises; and it is there–in the emotions and the reactions of its characters, especially the women–that Kingsolver’s skill shines through brightest. If that sounds interesting, Prodigal Summer is very highly recommended. It’s not The Poisonwood Bible, but it’s damn fine fiction.

#WhatIWishICouldDo

Capture a place with the elegance and evocative skill that Kingsolver demonstrates. It’s not just that nature is highly present, but that a specific location is made so real. That adds a level of world-building that deepens the environment around the characters significantly.

Posted in Culture | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Reading Well: Binti by Nnedi Okorafor

Posted on April 2, 2017 by Daniel (@MKNN)

Binti (2015) is the second science fiction book by Nnedi Okorafor to hit Reading Well (The Book of Phoenix was the first; Lagoon will be the third sometime over the next few months). Book may be an overstatement: Binti is a novella at most, a slim volume that details a young girl’s decision to leave her homeland to study higher mathematics at the most prestigious university in the known galaxies. And, the tragedy that befalls her on the way.

It is a work of great invention, and marvelously done. The protagonist–a young girl named Binti–is drawn with clear strokes, in terms of both her motivations and her fears, as well as the struggle to make the choice to leave her family, her village, her tribe, and her home planet, a choice that carries with it a high degree of social stigma. There are three main cultural groups in the story: Binti’s own (an extreme ethnic minority on the planet), the dominant majority on the planet (which carries an extremely paternalistic view of Binti’s people), and a vaguely jellyfish-like alien life form, who are embroiled in endless conflict with that dominant majority and largely ignorant of the existence of Binti’s people.

Ultimately, the story is hopeful: Binti is placed in a difficult and potentially deadly situation and has to find within herself the fortitude and the courage to triumph. A slim volume that sparkles with intelligence and vision, it delivers far more than the time required to read it.

#WhatIWishICouldDo

Publish a story of roughly this length. Because, you know, I have one. Also, I love Okorafor’s choices about what to explain, what to imply, and what to refer to in passing without further detail–that is the trick of wold-building. It’s not in endless histories and mind-numbing lineages; it’s in the small things, the details that add richness and thickness to the cultures being created.

Posted in Culture | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Reading Well: Gardens of the Moon by Steven Erikson

Posted on March 22, 2017 by Daniel (@MKNN)

With Gardens of the Moon (1999), Steven Erikson kicks off a ten novel series, called The Malazan Book of the Fallen. The book introduces a complex world, rife with magic and political intrigue, and poised on the edge of a continent-spanning war.

The book moves between several storylines that eventually come together, but not before blurring the idea of exactly who the protagonist of the tale may be: several are offered, and a few are revealed to be less than savory in the end (not that that alone prohibits them being a novel’s protagonist).

The world-building is impressive, spanning hundreds of thousands of years and including the presentation of a varied and intriguing system of magic, separated into various flavors each with its own strengths and weaknesses. The characters are well drawn: if largely taken from stock portraits, they are fleshed out in interesting and engaging ways.

The plots are creative and convoluted, and often hinge on the kind of twist common to the genre, where history often turns on a single dramatic action and the characters, varied as they are, represent large swaths of the world’s populations.

My suspicion is that the world only grows in richness throughout the series, and if that sounds appealing, the series may indeed be for you!

#WhatIWishICouldDo

Just go with it. Erikson’s magical system of warrens is interesting, and provides some of the most compelling moments of the novel. It is also less than fully-fleshed out, and the relationship of the mage to their chosen flavor of magic is not always evident (although, of course, this may be addressed in later books in the series). I find myself unable to plunge ahead with that sort of thing without figuring out all of the implications of its internal logic first, something that can certainly hold me back in my writing.

Posted in Culture | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Reading Well: Disgrace by J.M. Coetzee

Posted on March 11, 2017 by Daniel (@MKNN)

J.M. Coetzee is one of the great writers of the second half of the twentieth century, so the raw skill and sophistication of Disgrace (1999) are no surprise.

The novel–like much of Coetzee’s writing–can be read as a struggle to make sense of the human cost of South African society, and the context matters quite a bit as the initial themes–middle aged men using their power to have affairs, the search for connection and meaning in bland lives–are more universal than local. But, what comes next, which involves an incident of startling brutality that is shared by father and daughter, can only be understood within the local context.

There is a tension in the novel that remains unresolved to the end: on the one hand, it is the father’s book, told from his perspective and through his eyes; on the other, it is his daughter’s reaction to her rape and his beating which attempts to articulate a different stance towards violence and power in a country caught in the final throes of official apartheid (this is not mentioned directly in the text as much as inferred from the era in which it is set).

Regardless, it’s a moving, poignant book. It does not proffer any answers, easy or otherwise, but it does allow us to stare without flinching at several manifestations of the human condition. That’s pretty strong.

#WhatIWishICouldDo

It would be false to say Coetzee never users metaphors, but it’s pretty close. I rely on evocative descriptions all over the place: to write this directly, this cleanly, yet to do so without sacrificing an iota of emotional impact or sensation just amazes me.

Posted in Culture | Tagged , , | 1 Comment

Reading Well: The Sorcerer of the Wildeeps by Kai Ashante Wilson

Posted on March 1, 2017 by Daniel (@MKNN)

Kai Ashante Wilson‘s The Sorcerer of the Wildeeps (2015) is a book in grave danger of being overly and overtly pigeon-holed, which makes it hard to write about. On the one hand, it’s easy to focus on it’s Afrocentric focus, especially the dialog, as his juxtaposition of a variety of African-American patter (contemporary urban, southern, even a Francophone patois) in a fantasy setting is striking, and highly successful. But that would obscure the larger brilliance of this short book, which lies along two axes.

First, there is the language, and the way Ashante Wilson’s sentences fracture and reform. This is sparkling, effervescent writing, full of surprising moments of linguistic creativity. It doesn’t work one hundred percent of the time, but when it does, it manages to dance that fine line between a page-turning romp set at the boundaries of magic and science and a work focused on literary creativity and innovation.

Second, and even more importantly, the two central characters are sketched with such compassion that their interactions are delightful, and their love affair compelling. Each are demigods, much-removed descendants from families of deities. Their affection for each other, as well as their supernatural powers, must be concealed in public throughout the novel, which is handled deftly and realistically: their surreptitious embraces are all the more sweet, which is well conveyed.

This book left me wanting more: more of Ashante Wilson’s voice, more diversity in the genres in general, and more of this specific world–the history is tantalizing, and the setting could easily hold further adventures.

Again, it is a genre novel, but if the genre appeals, it is highly recommended.

#WhatIWishICouldDo

The creativity of the language sparkles. I am often struck by how grammar-bound I am: some freedom and creativity along those dimensions could serve me well.

Posted in Culture | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Reading Well: In the Country of Last Things by Paul Auster

Posted on February 21, 2017 by Daniel (@MKNN)

Dystopian novels are relatively common; literary dystopian novels, not so much. In the Country of Last Things (1987) by Paul Auster certainly qualifies. A single, long letter, In the Country of Last Things tells the story a woman who flees the safe confines of her homeland in search of her brother, who has gone on a journalistic assignment into a destroyed hellscape of a city.

The cause of the urban woes is never quite clear, but the devastation is familiar to the genre: there is no food, no work, no infrastructure, and the struggle to live overwhelms all else. Our protagonist struggles to adjust, falls in love two–maybe, three–times, and manages to survive, all the while adding layer on top of layer of our understanding of the difficulties of life in the city.

I have not read other books by Auster, so I don’t know if he has a consistently unique voice, or if it one he adopted for this novel: in either case, you will quickly know if it is, as they say, your cup of tea. The sentences and the ideas they convey are complex, yet direct, and the literary skill is enjoyable.

There is nothing new here in terms of the genre, but it’s a quick read, and some of the images will stay with you long after you read it.

#WhatIWishICouldDo

Be this literate without drifting into pretentiousness. I’m not very comfortable with me “literary voice,” and I think that is a challenge I need to figure out.

Posted in Culture | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Reading Well: Consider Phlebas by Iain M. Banks

Posted on February 12, 2017 by Daniel (@MKNN)

Billed as a “space opera,” Iain M. Banks‘ Consider Phlebas (1987) is quite a bit more than that. It certainly checks the requisite boxes–an intergalactic war involving almost incomprehensibly powerful technology (and explanations for the same that sure sound scientific), alien races that range from humanoid to highly mysterious, high-octane action scenes with spaceships in hot pursuit, interludes that would be comedic if they didn’t place the protagonist in such extreme peril. But there is also an intelligence and a depth of character and an ending that remains satisfying, despite it’s subtle movements against genre.

Two specifics that raise the book above the norm: first, the general conflict is intelligently articulated. On one side is a race ordained by their Gods to rule all they encounter, a good old-fashioned imperial hegemony; on the other is a massive and loose affiliation of worlds known as The Culture, whose primary mark is a trust in technology as a means to free sentient beings to pursue pleasure and the arts. It’s deftly done, and even the side of the protagonist is a bit of a surprise, but well thought out and consistently presented.

Second, towards the end of the book, the characters overwhelm the plot; that is, you end up caring less about what happens, and more about who it happens to, and as more fringe characters move towards the center of the resolution, the book ends with a deeper emotional resonance than could be expected.

It’s not a short book, but it’s an enjoyable and fast read, and is recommended to the point where I will probably look into other works by Banks in the not so distant future.

#WhatIWishICouldDo

There is a fantastic confidence in Banks’ writing, a sense of authority that helps immediately to build trust between reader and author. In stories that stretch credulity–as all good science fiction/fantasy should–that is a key element in the reader holding their judgement in abeyance long enough for the story to seduce them.

Posted in Culture | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Reading Well: The Steel Remains by Richard K. Morgan

Posted on February 1, 2017 by Daniel (@MKNN)

The Steel Remains (2010) by Richard K. Morgan is very much a 21st century book, but for all the commentary about how it turns the genre on its head, it is actually a very traditional fantasy novel–especially as an initial foray into a world designed to hold sequels. Yes, the characters curse a lot and, yes, the protagonist is unabashedly and explicitly gay. But aside from that, what is best about the book is the competence and creativity with which familiar genre terrain is navigated.

Our hero is past his peak: several years ago he won the day at a famous battle, turning the tide of the most recent great war, but he now lives off his reputation, and has grown a little thicker around the middle, a little slower with the blade. When his mother summons him to find a relative of the family who has been sold into slavery, he answers, and the game is on!

There are two other story lines that merge with his, both centering on people he knew before, one a warlord from the northern wastes, the other the only (perhaps) remaining member of her race on this planet. The latter opens up some interesting dynamics: the world is set to hold both magic and science, and contains people at very different points of understanding and interpretation, from an institutionalized church that is turning towards hard-line orthodoxy to a race that is able to move in and out of spacetime at will (they cannot go backwards in time, but they can enter a place where it moves so slowly as to be as good as standing still).

It’s sword and sorcery with a little science, and if it feels at times like a novelization of a Fall From Heaven game gone out of control, that is, actually, a good thing (FFH is a great dark fantasy game based on the Civilization series). The three main characters are all deftly sketched and differentiated, and are all sympathetic enough that different readers will have different favorites, with good reasons for each.

The book quickly settles into a nice rhythm, alternating among the storylines until the very end, and I kept caring whether characters thrived or not, and kept turning the pages to find out. It’s a better book than that, even: of all the first novels in a series I’ve written about over the past year or so, it is the only one where I immediately ordered volume two.

#WhatIWishedICouldDo

Morgan does a very good job at dropping us into a thickly considered world. There is a history here, mostly political and/or warfare related, and that poses a challenge: how do you realize that history without lecturing? How do you have characters reference a massive conflict without diving deeply into it? Morgan does this very well, enriching the current story and whetting the readers appetite for both what is to come in this world as well as what precedes these events.

Posted in Culture | Tagged , , | Leave a comment