Civilwarland in Bad Decline

Sometimes it's interesting to see how a writer thinks, how their experiences shape their stories. The afterword to Civilwarland in Bad Decline is a little on the nose in that regard; George Saunders details what he was going through as he was writing these stories, how he was relatively broke, working a job he wasn't entirely enthused about, and worrying about how he would be able to provide for his family. In that light, the stories here about parents working a job they hate to support their children, worrying about failing their family, and actually failing to support their family are a lot more poignant.

Out of seven stories in this collection, four ("Civilwarland in Bad Decline", "The Wavemaker Falters", "Downtrodden Mary's Failed Campaign of Terror", and "Bounty", as well as the bonus story "A Lack of Order in the Floating Object Room") are set in amusement parks. Saunders cover this in the afterword, as well, as well as in an interview:

The truth is, I started writing theme park stories not out of thematic or political interest. I was just trying to divest myself of a certain tendency that I had, which was to be a stodgy, Hemingway-esque realist. I really loved Hemingway, so I wrote a lot of stuff in grad school that was kind of like Hemingway transplanted into my life, but somehow it didn't work. I noticed as a device if I set the story in a strange place, the language got a little more oomph in it. At first it was a way to keep myself honest, to keep me from falling back into this reactionary realist mode that I couldn't pull off. And at the time that I was working on the first book, I was also working at a company that was kind of squeezing the life out of me. It was one of those artistic accidents where I thought I was just doing something to be pragmatic, and then when I did it I could see all the political ramifications. So now I'm actually trying not to do those stories as much, but every so often one will hit me and it will seem like so much fun. It's a step up into that kind of weird fiction that's irresistible.

 The theme park stories are all a little different, of course: "Civilwarland in Bad Decline" is both funny and tragic as hell, as we see through the eyes of a downtrodden verisimilitude inspector who both hates and is lousy at his job, but sticks it out for the sake of his children (with a wife who no longer respects him). "The Wavemaker Falters" concerns a man who caused a tragedy losing the respect of his wife through dealing with it. Of the others, "Bounty" is the longest, and the most memorable; it deals with a dystopian future where society has broken down and where mutants, called "Flaweds" are second-class citizens: working menial jobs, or even enslaved. Unfortunately, it's the least tight of the stories here.

I would highly recommend this; all the stories are imaginative and effective.

The Devil in the White City

Erik Larson's The Devil in the White City is widely praised, and it's easy to see why. It's a meticulously researched work that alternates chapters on the planning of the 1893 World's Fair with the activities of the serial killer H. H. Holmes, who operated in and around Chicago at the time. At least, the planning and architecture chapters are meticulously researched; the Holmes chapters are full of speculation, as he didn't document his activities the way the Fair's architects did; most of Holmes' actions are thus from informed speculation or forensics. (This isn't a problem unless one is going to insist on strict historical accuracy, as Larson is certainly an entertaining writer)

As a work of history that reads like a novel, this is absolutely a success. Obviously, this is not a novel, or we would have our major characters (Burnham and Olmstead on the architecture/planning side, and Holmes) intersect at or near the climax of the novel. Happily, they remain unaware of each other (Holmes was more interested in young, single women, being who he was). The closest we have to something like that is a subplot revolving around the eventual assassination of Carter Harrison, by a Guiteau-like office seeker.

Definitely recommended.

The Assassination of Margaret Thatcher

Like all short story collections, The Assassination of Margaret Thatcher has its ups and downs. There are a few that could be autobiographical ("Sorry to Disturb" and "How Shall I Know You?"). There's what may be a vampire story (or just an extended meditation on mortality) in "Terminus", and there's a story that was possibly written to indulge in a grammatical pun ("Comma", because of course).

There's at least one story in here that I'd never like to read again, which is "The Heart Fails Without Warning." (which, incidentally, is an incidence that occurs in one of the other stories) It's a look at a family dealing with one of their daughter's eating disorder, and it's unsettling as hell.

The class of the lot is the title story, which is (I believe) the only piece in this collection that was not previously published. It's oddly fascinating to read, given that it's a revenge fantasy for a certain class of British intellectual, and it's not played 100% straight (thankfully, because even if you believe Thatcher is odious, you have to wink a little, or it comes off as psychotic.)

This is very much worth reading -- the prose is both memorable and limpid, I knocked this out relatively quickly.

The Anabasis

On the one hand, this is a classic. On the other, it's a disjointed mess. I'm not even sure it's this particular translation -- Xenophon is occasionally mentioned (in passing) in the first half of the book, before being prominently featured in the second. This isn't an epic (so there's no divine intervention), but there's a lot of sacrifice -- Xenophon will hardly leave his tent without having the diviners tell him what he should do.

It's one of the original adventure stories, but I would not recommend it.

The Fall of Hyperion

The Fall of Hyperion suffers from the same issues of many other sequels -- answering questions is often less interesting than asking them, and resolving mysteries is often less interesting than letting them remain mysterious.

In The Fall of Hyperion we do get a resolution to the pilgrim's stories, although like the previous book, it's on a bit of a cliffhanger.

While Hyperion employed the conceit of each pilgrim telling their story to pass the time, in the style of Chaucer, this novel's conceit is that the pilgrim's experiences are relayed through the not-quite-dreams of another character, which is less engaging.

We also get a significant look at the Big Picture in the universe of the novel, which is interesting from a world-building perspective, but again less than perfect. Some of the actions of the antagonists seem a little too-clever-by-half, as well, sounding more like they have plot armor rather than actual decision making. (Some of this can be handwaved in-universe, but it's still weak, IMO)

Overall, this is a solid read, but not quite what Hyperion was.

The Stars My Destination

One of the problems with older science fiction novels is how dated some of their assumptions about the future can be. In the big picture here, Bester misses feminism. In the smaller, he misses tattoo removal. Getting past those points, this is a fantastic classic novel that's been hailed as one of the forerunners of cyberpunk.

Bester's protagonist is Gully Foyle, who in one of the anticipations of the cyberpunk movement, is not a savory character. He's introduced as a mediocre worker, who after being stranded in space, decides to take revenge on the ship that failed to pick him up, rather than the crew of the ship. He has to have this explained to him by someone he meets in prison. He's also an unrepentant killer, a rapist, and a manipulative bastard. It's nice to have an antihero in a novel written in the 50s -- it would be too easy to have the protagonist be a big, bouncing Boy Scout, working to overthrow a corrupt system. But this isn't a corrupt system -- it's not a pleasant one, but it;s not a dystopia or a tyranny.

One of the conceits The Stars My Destination is that teleportation has been discovered, within limits -- it's not a technological breakthrough, but rather unlocking part of the human mind/subconscious to will oneself hundreds of miles (a theme similar to Bester's other classic novel, The Demolished Man, in which telepathy is unlocked in a like manner). However, although humanity has spread to outer space, teleportation is only possible on a planet, and only if the destination (and departure point) are well known to the individual. So the very rich keep themselves isolated in labyrinthine mansions, prisons are kept dark to prevent prisoners becoming familiar with the area, etc. Large corporations controlled by families have massive influence, and new social structure -- one man huffily insists "There are thousands of Presteigns. All are addressed as 'Mister'. But I am Presteign of Presteign, head of house and sept, first of the family, chieftain of the clan. I am addressed as 'Presteign'. Not 'Mister Presteign'. Presteign."

There is a lot to like about The Stars My Destination, but by far the worst part about it is the dialogue -- it's very clunky, and the characterization often isn't too much better. Some of this can be chalked up to not having the freedom to address sexual issues or themes the way later sci-fi writers would be able to, but the majority has to fall on Bester. Luckily, the novel is strong enough to be exemplary even with these flaws. Recommended without reservation.

Hyperion

Dan Simmons' Hyperion is highly acclaimed, and it's easy to see why -- it takes the structure of the Canterbury Tales and sets it IN SPACE. There's more to it than that, of course; one of the traits that Hyperion shares with other great science fiction is that it seamlessly integrates the reader into a vastly different world (a different universe, really) than the one we're used to, without using characters to deliver exposition dumps. We hear of the monstrous Shrike obliquely at first, then again and again, and even by the end of the novel, we're still not sure what it is entirely. We do get a chapter towards the end that is mainly an exposition dump (in the form of a character's journal), but due to it's relatively (relativistically?) unique structure, I don't mind.

Having several narrators (one of whom we are informed at the beginning of the novel is a spy) allows different voices, motivations, and for us to guess on reliability and the accuracy of the tales

Although Hyperion is the first in a series of four, it's entirely possible to read as a standalone novel, there are a few issues and mysteries set up there will have to be answered in subsequent sequels (the nature and motivations of the Shrike, of some political players, the mysterious disappearance of one character, and the resolution of some of the plot). It even has a satisfying and appropriate ending.

Highly recommended.