Revisiting Star Wars: X-Wing: The Krytos Trap, and X-Wing: The Bacta War

I have to admit up front, I’m a little ashamed of myself every time I return to this series. My goal was to, y’know, be quick about it; but it’s taken me a few years to get this far. There are no excuses, but there are reasons; the Star Wars EU is one among several reading lists I’m working through; I don’t read quite as quickly as I once did; and I have a full-time job and a family on top of doing the things that feed this blog. Still, I feel a bit guilty about it.

I feel even more guilty, though, when I realize–very much to my chagrin–that I didn’t post a review for the last book I completed! So, today, we’ll be talking about two novels in the X-Wing series, both by Michael A. Stackpole: Books three and four, The Krytos Trap and The Bacta War.

The standard disclaimer, and a quick recap: When I post about Star Wars, I generally only post about the Expanded Universe, or “Star Wars Legends”, as it was relabeled at the Disney takeover of the franchise. I’ll be honest: I prefer the older work to the Disney canon. I think that it’s a better story, even at its low points, and that Disney would have been well served to port it over to television and film rather than going their own way. Now, that in no way means I dislike everything about the Disney canon; without it, we wouldn’t have Rogue One or The Mandalorian. Nor are my posts here to talk shit about Disney, as it were; I acknowledge it up front, and then basically ignore it. If canon is your preference, I respect that; thanks for coming by, reaching out of your comfort zone, and seeing what the EU is all about! It’s where I have most of my experience, and it’s what I love, so I like to talk about it here.

To recap: We’re covering the EU novels from the post-Return of the Jedi era (plus a few other bits and pieces). Thus far we’ve covered The Truce at Bakura (taking place hours after the end of Return of the Jedi), the trilogy of Dark Forces novellas, Luke Skywalker and the Shadows of Mindor, and the first two entries in the X-Wing series, Rogue Squadron and Wedge’s Gamble. We will–hopefully–be covering all the adult-level and teen-level novels (i.e. Young Jedi Knights), as many short stories as I can acquire, and a few comics (such as Dark Empire), from The Truce at Bakura to the end of the EU. We will not be covering stories explicitly aimed at children, such as Junior Jedi Knights and Galaxy of Fear; most comics; any video games; or any televised media. There’s only so much time, and I’m already taking too long.

Rogue Squadron re-established the titular Rogue Squadron of X-Wing pilots, under the command of veteran pilot Wedge Antilles, who is possibly the most underrated hero the Rebellion ever had, in my opinion. The squadron includes–and the novels generally focus on–future Jedi Corran Horn, who is hands down my favorite EU character. The book establishes the fight to take the capital world of Coruscant and unseat Imperial Intelligence Director Ysanne Isard, pejoratively called “Iceheart” by her friends and enemies alike. In Wedge’s Gamble, after several campaigns across the galaxy, the Rogues take the fight to Isard, and ultimately liberate Coruscant–but all within Isard’s plan, as she releases the engineered Krytos Virus, which targets non-humans. Worse for the Rogues, Corran is captured and held in the infamous and secretive prison, Lusankya.

And that’s it! Spoilers ahead for books three and four (if you’re concerned about spoilers for a book that’s 23 years old, that is). Also, a reminder that because we’re covering two books, this post will be longer than usual.

Rarely have I enjoyed a Star Wars novel as much as The Krytos Trap. It’s not that the book is particularly well written–it’s as good as the rest of the X-Wing series, but not a standout among them. (That doesn’t mean it’s bad, either!) It’s not revolutionary in its characters or even its plot; it concerns the battle to take an impossible target, and that’s the most Star Wars plot ever. Rather, it shows us what the fast-moving, focused movies can’t: Real life in the Star Wars galaxy. We get views of Coruscant’s common people and life beneath the skyscrapers and towers, and we see some of how life must have looked both under the Empire and during transitions. It’s a great glimpse into things that are normally passed over by the heroes and villains alike; in that regard it’s a bit in line with what we’ve seen more recently in The Mandalorian. To be fair, this began in the previous book, Wedge’s Gamble; but it continues here.

The story has two plotlines at play, with occasional commentary from Isard’s faction on both lines. On one hand we have the Rebels–excuse me, the New Republic, for they’re the legitimate government now that they’ve taken Coruscant–discovering and fighting the Krytos virus. Again, this started in the previous novel, but it comes to a head here. Only bacta–the healing liquid that seems to be a cure-all–can properly treat the virus; but bacta is already in short supply, and soon to get worse. This creates a secondary problem: How can the Republic distribute the dwindling supplies without seeming to favor one group over another? It’s Isard’s plan to allow the Republic to destroy itself from within in this way. The Republic does develop a substitute substance, ryl’ca, developed largely from the Twi’lek drug ryll, but it’s essentially a stopgap measure to relieve the pressure until more bacta can be acquired.

On the other hand, we have Corran’s imprisonment. His friends believe him to be dead, and have compelling reason to blame Tycho Celchu–once a Lusankya prisoner himself–for the catastrophe. Wedge maintains Tycho’s innocence, but it’s a battle he can’t win. Meanwhile Isard tries desperately to turn Corran into a sleeper agent, but fails. She dumps him in with the general prisoner population; but this, too, turns to his advantage, as he meets a remarkable older man named Jan. Unbeknownst to Corran, this is Rebel general Jan Dodonna, presumed dead since the Battle of Yavin; but he conceals his identity, because he knows he is the only thing keeping the other prisoners going. Nevertheless, he and his men assist Corran with an escape attempt.

The story comes together as Corran makes his escape. Along the way, he learns two stunning truths. First, his father was not who he claimed to be; though he grew up as Hal Horn, he was actually Valin Halcyon–the son of slain Jedi Master Nejaa Halcyon. Coran learns that he himself is heir to that Jedi tradition and power, and he finds and claims Nejaa’s lightsaber as his own. Second, he learns that Lusankya is not a building after all, but a Super Star Destroyer like Vader’s ill-fated Executor–and it is buried under the surface level of Coruscant. Before he can use that knowledge, however, the ship tears itself free of the city, causing massive casualties; and Isard makes her escape.

Corran is, however, able to provide evidence that exonerates Tycho…just as his old enemy, Kirtan Loor, is killed by the real sleeper agent, former prisoner (and Iella Wessiri’s husband), Diric Wessiri. After the trial, Corran is approached by Luke Skywalker, who asks Corran to study under him and become a Jedi Knight; but Corran declines, stating his first loyalty is to the Rogues. On the heels of this choice, however, comes news that Isard has established herself in a coup on the planet Thyferra, the source of nearly all the bacta in the galaxy–and because of the Republic’s political arrangements, no mission can be staged to liberate the planet. Thus, as one, the Rogues resign their commissions, and set out to wage a private war to bring Isard down.

The Bacta War sees the prosecution of that war. While Isard entrenches her position with three more Star Destroyers in addition to the Lusankya, the Rogues prepare to take the fight to her–but first, they have to acquire the means to do it! Their ships and gear are all Republic property, and so Wedge and Tycho set out to acquire new equipment. Fortunately, Isard’s frame-up job against Tycho included a very large sum of money to indicate his alleged corruption; and that money is available to him now. A little maneuvering by a supporter within the Republic results in much of their original equipment coming up for sale; and some help from Republic pilot Pash Cracken sees a space station in the Yag’dhul system erroneously listed as destroyed, giving them a base of operations. The Rogues soon acquire new allies in the form of Mirax Terrik’s retired-smuggler father, Booster Terrik, and current smuggler-entrepreneur Talon Karrde.

Meanwhile, Isard grows increasingly unhinged as she focuses in on taking down Wedge and his people, leading her advisor Fliry Vorru to conspire with former Rogue and traitor Erisi Dlarit against her. Through a number of stratagems, Wedge and his allies slowly whittle down Isard’s forces, first destroying the Victory II-class Star Destroyer Corrupter, then buying out the services of the captain of the Imperial II-class Virulence. At last he leads the Lusankya into a complex trap at Yag’dhul, allowing him to make a final assault on Thyferra and Isard. The Lusankya is freed by the actions of its escort, the Imperial II-class Avarice; but when it jumps back to Thyferra, it is overwhelmed in record time by a multilayered attack from the Rogues, their allied fighter pilots, several other ships adapted for the purpose, and the Virulence. Ultimately the Lusankya‘s XO assassinates its now-insane captain, and surrenders the ship. Vorru is captured, tried, and returned to imprisonment on Kessel; Irisi is killed by Corran in a dogfight over Yag’dhul’s moon; and Isard is (apparently) killed in the destruction of her escape shuttle (though I’m not convinced). In the end, Booster acquires the Avarice, renaming it the Errant Venture; Karrde facilitates some very profitable deals; the Rogues are reinstated into the Republic; and oh yes, Corran and Mirax get married (much to Booster’s consternation).

Whew! That’s a lot of ground–err, space–to cover.

Thus far I’ve been generally pleased with the X-Wing series. It wasn’t until preparing to write this post that I realized that the series has multiple arcs (I know, I know, I should know better…); and now we’ve reached the end of the first one. Next time, we’ll be picking up the tale with a new squadron, new characters, and a new mission. It’s a little bittersweet to realize; I’ve been having fun with Corran, Gavin Darklighter, Mirax Terrik, Tycho Celchu and the rest. They’ll be back, but we have a lot of material to read before then!

Corran Horn remains my favorite EU character. I was introduced to him, many years ago, in *I, Jedi* (also written by Stackpole), and have been a fan ever since. He’s very much in the rough here; he has a long way to go. But in this novel we get the payoff of what’s come before; he knows about his Jedi heritage and is starting to feel it out; he’s no longer imprisoned by Isard; he’s overcome his rivalry with Bror Jace (who–spoiler!–isn’t as dead as we thought); he’s past the awkward bit of his budding relationship with Mirax (and now has an awkward, budding relationship with her father). He’s starting to smooth off the rough edges and become more mature, and I’m happy to see it. He’s actually sidelined a bit more here; Mirax Terrik and Iella Wessiri move to the forefront, and Wedge gets more screentime, as do Booster Terrik and Talon Karrde, and–most surprisingly, but pleasingly–Ooryl Qrygg, Corran’s Gand wingman.

Ooryl gets the highest honor he can get in Gand society, for his spectacular accomplishments: he becomes janwuine, and gains the right to refer to himself in the first person. It’s a subtle, background plot, but very pleasing when it pays off.

When I first encountered Booster Terrik–I don’t recall which novel–he was already tooling around the galaxy in his personal Star Destroyer, the Errant Venture. As soon as he appeared in The Bacta War, I realized this must be where he acquires it, and I wasn’t disappointed. The scene in which Talon Karrde negotiates between Booster and the Republic for ownership of the Star Destroyer–and gets the better of both of them–is a thing of beauty. ” As Palpatine once said, “we will watch your career with great interest!”

I appreciate the wrap-up to Ysanne Isard’s story. (I know it’s not the final end; after all these years, it would be hard not to know she’s going to put in at least one more appearance. But still, the bulk of her story is tied off now.) I found her to be a compelling villain at first, a sort of dry run for Thrawn’s later appearance. But, in this final novel, she begins to slip into madness, and loses much of her edge–as well as much of what made her distinctive. Her ruthlessness and extreme pragmatism were her “plus one” (see my review of Wedge’s Gamble for what I mean by that), and without it she’s not nearly as interesting. It was very much a relief when her apparent death occurred. The stage quickly gets stolen by former Moff Flirry Vorru and Rogue traitor Erisi Dlarit; but with the pace of the story, neither of them can gather enough screen time to make the impact they should make. There is, instead, a handful of other minor villains, but for the most part they are standard villain fare, and gone as quickly as we meet them. (I do hope, though, to see Captain Sair Yonka, of the Star Destroyer Virulence, again. Again, spoiler ahead! –His defection to the New Republic instantly makes him fascinating, and he gets a great line: “The Empire is dead—we all know that—so this is our buy-in to whatever follows it.” I vaguely recall that he appears again later, but I’m avoiding researching it.)

I’ve really only had two complaints so far about this series. For one, everyone speaks in a highly stilted manner. At first I thought it was just Corran; but by this novel, everyone does it, especially when explaining things. I can sympathize–if you read these posts at all, you know I’m the same–but an author’s job is to ensure that not every voice is his own. The second complaint is that there are a few too many lucky coincidences in these books–too many instances of “right place, right time”, on which major plot points then hang. For example, the Rogues are about to get thoroughly swatted at one point; but they are saved by the appearance of a droid-crewed Alderaanian War Cruiser dating to well before the destruction of Alderaan. That’s a coincidence itself, but it’s compounded by why the ship appeared: Tycho, in a fit of nostalgia, set his ship’s IFF transponder to a code identified with a nearly legendary Alderaanian warship, of which this cruiser was a wingmate, and thus the ship responded to him as though he was the mythical ship. This kind of thing happens often enough that it stretches credibility even to consider the Force to be the answer.

Overall, though, I’ve been pleased with the books, and I highly recommend them. We have three more to go, and then we’ll move on to other novels. See you there!

X-Wing: The Krytos Trap and X-Wing: The Bacta War are available from Amazon and other booksellers.

You can find Wookieepedia’s treatment of the novel here.

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Revisiting Star Wars: X-Wing: Wedge’s Gamble (X-Wing #2)

Welcome back to our re-read of the Star Wars Expanded Universe! It’s been a few months, largely because I’ve given some of my time over to reading other things in the course of my 52-book challenge for the year (see the end of this post for more on that). Nevertheless, it’s good to be back! Today we’re moving on with the X-Wing series with book two, Wedge’s Gamble.

 

Quick recap: The Expanded Universe, or EU, is that collection of Star Wars materials written before Disney’s acquisition of Lucasfilm (and thus Star Wars) in 2012. Disney proceeded to produce its own materials, including films and books (and possibly comics—I haven’t tracked it) that take place in a separate continuity from the EU, and deviate significantly from the older materials. The two canons share a few items, namely the original and prequel trilogies and the Clone Wars television series. As well, Disney-owned Lucasfilm has made a practice of cherry-picking characters, events, and other items from the EU for their own purposes, but never full stories thus far. Disney also rebranded the EU as “Star Wars Legends” so that it can keep selling reprints without interfering with its own canon stories; personally, I prefer the term “Expanded Universe” or EU, and will typically use it here (though I may occasionally use “Legends” for clarification).

I prefer the EU materials over the new canon stories, though I can’t say that I hate the new materials. I’ve seen the four new movies that have been released (The Force Awakens, The Last Jedi, Rogue One, and Solo), and they’re…tolerable, I would say. Not fantastic (except Rogue One—well done on that one!), but decent—they feel more like high-quality Star Wars fanfiction to me (and I’ve written some Star Wars fanfiction in my life, so take that as a compliment). It’s the EU, though, that was part of my life and my teen years, and I’ll always have a love for it. With that in mind, I started this re-read of the EU novels in the post-Return of the Jedi era, beginning with The Truce at Bakura, and hopefully, eventually, ending with Crucible, the final EU novel. I’ve excluded a few items, notably children’s novels such as the Jedi Prince series; however, I’ve retained the Young Jedi Knights series, as it’s written for a somewhat older audience, and is important for events in some of the adult novels. Here is the timeline we’re using. I read many of these novels in my teen years and my twenties; but many of them, I did not, as I was never able to obtain them in the days before ebooks became common. Today’s entry, along with the rest of its series, is like that.

There will be spoilers ahead! These books have existed long enough that I feel justified in speaking frankly about plot details, so if that’s not your thing, this is your chance to bow out. No hard feelings if so! I love you all anyway, and we’ll see you again when we take up a different topic. And so, with that said, let’s get started!

Image courtesy of Kissclipart

X-Wing 1: Rogue Squadron had a lot of ground to cover. It gave us the story of the reconstruction of the fabled Rogue Squadron of X-Wing pilots in the post-Return of the Jedi era. Commander Wedge Antilles reassembles the squadron with the best pilots he can find, including future Jedi (sorry, spoiler, but a very well-known one) Corran Horn, formerly of Correlian Security, or CorSec. Corran is our chief protagonist here, though this is definitely an ensemble cast. The newly-formed squadron is then tasked with taking the planet Borleias, held by Imperial General Evir Derricote. Borleias will serve as a staging ground for a Rebel conquest of the galactic capital: Coruscant, also known as Imperial Center. Along the way, a third of the Rogues’ pilots die; even with replacements, they’ll still be down two pilot throughout the second book. (I will be trying to keep track of the deaths and replacements. So far we’ve lost Bothan male Peshk Vri’syck, Rodian female Andoorni Hui, Kessel human female Lujayne Forge, and Thyferran human male Bror Jace. Replacements include Contruum human male Pash Cracken, and Sullustan female Aril Nunb, who was sidelined in the first book and is now called up for active duty.)

Wedge’s Gamble hits the ground running, with the Rogues having barely a moment to breathe. They are rerouted from Borleias back to their previous base at Noquivzor, but it doesn’t last long. Wedge finds that the plan to take Coruscant has been accelerated; and it means a rare and difficult infiltration mission for the Rogues. They will be inserted into Coruscant in small groups, under assumed identities, with the express mission of exposing the planet’s weaknesses—and possibly preparing it for invasion.

Coruscant is no easy target. It’s easily the most heavily-defended planet in the Empire; for after all, whoever holds Coruscant will likely be seen as the legitimate ruler of the galaxy. As such, the planet has two concentric planetary shields, with many redundant systems for command, control, and power; in addition the planet has numerous Golan Defense platforms in orbit, as well as a standing complement of Star Destroyers and other ships. Cracking this nut will not be simple. However, the Rebels are unaware that Imperial Intelligence Director Ysanne Isard—acting regent of the Empire—wants them to take the planet. She tasks Evir Derricote and Kirtan Loor with creating a virus, the Krytos virus, which will infect the planet’s many non-humans with a deadly plague, thus burdening the Rebels with their care once they take the planet. Simple enough, eh? But there’s more. The plague can be easily cured with bacta—but doing so will take quantities of bacta that the Rebellion can’t afford. If they provide treatment, they’ll be bankrupt—but if they withhold it, they’ll be seen as monsters on the scale of the Empire itself. Either way, the strain will tear the rebellion apart.

Complicating things is a plan by the Bothans, which involves rescuing prisoners from Kessel and inserting them into Coruscant as well. This will revive the dying remnants of the Black Sun criminal organization, thus giving the Empire another thorn in its side—but also giving the Rebellion ready-made traitors in its midst. And Rogue Squadron already has one traitor…

The plan begins, and the Rogues are inserted into Coruscant’s underworld. However, things quickly go wrong, as their moves are reported to the Empire. First plans and backup plans alike come crashing down. Then, things are further complicated by an attack on Noquivzor by Imperial warlord Zsinj, whose fleet stands in opposition to both the Rebels and Isard. Tycho Celchu is allegedly killed in the attack—but Corran Horn is certain that Tycho is on Coruscant, and is the traitor in their midst. Unable to fight both Zsinj and Isard, the Rebellion is forced to speed up the attack on Coruscant. This interferes with Isard’s plan to deploy the virus (although she manages to make an abbreviated deployment), but also puts pressure on the Rogues. Against all odds, they are able to take down the planetary shields just seconds before the Rebel fleet jumps into the system; but in the process, Corran Horn is lost and presumed dead. In reality, he has been captured by isard, and taken to the infamous Lusankya prison—where no one escapes unless Isard wants them to, and everyone who does is an Imperial sleeper agent. Meanwhile, Tycho is arrested on suspicion of engineering Corran’s death.

Corran Horn’s CorSec X-Wing. Image by Lorcan13 at DeviantArt. 

While the first book was largely groundwork for the series, that phase is over now. We’re all action here; most of our characters are established, and we get to see them at work. Some expansion is necessary, of course; notably, we see the beginnings of Corran’s long relationship (and eventual marriage) with smuggler Mirax Terrik. A few new characters arrive, including Inyri Forge, the younger sister of deceased pilot Lujayne Forge. Inyri joins us as a villain of sorts, attached to Black Sun notable Zekka Thyne; however, she makes a conversion over to the Rogues’ side by the end of the book. Her change in allegiances feels a little sudden, but inevitable; but I’m not going to complain too much, as she’s quite a sympathetic character. (Or maybe I’m just honoring her sister’s memory—Lujayne’s death in the first novel was a hard blow to overcome.)

Speaking of deaths: Stackpole goes easy on us this time, after the four deaths of the first novel. No one in Rogue Squadron actually dies here, although Bror Jace’s death at the end of the first novel is almost fresh enough to count. (More on that in a later book, though…) Corran Horn is presumed dead, but it’s made obvious to the audience that he isn’t. Instead, he’s last seen en route to Lusankya, Isard’s infamous prison where she converts prisoners into sleeper agents. This seems to be a setup for some excellent drama later, as the book plays up Corran’s growing suspicion of Tycho Celchu, who is a former prisoner of Lusankya. Although I knew about Tycho’s imprisonment, I had somehow forgotten that Corran also serves time there, so I’m interested to see how it plays out.

I spoke last time about what I call “stock plus one” villains. That is, the early EU is filled with villains who would be generic (stock) villains, except for one exceptional characteristic that sets them apart. Here the focus is again on Intelligence agent Kirtan Loor, Corran’s old nemesis from his CorSec days (or one of them—he has several). Last time I suggested that his “plus one” was his eidetic memory; here, he’s changed a bit, and we begin to see that his “plus one” is his relationship to the concept of fear. It rules his life—but, he’s growing out of that! By the end of the book, he’s mastered his fear, and is poised to become someone quite influential. Isard, seeing this, places him in charge of a counter-insurgency movement she plans to leave behind her when she evacuates to Lusankya. I’m very interested to see where this goes.

Overall: This is a fast-moving, rocking-and-rolling story. It covers months of time, but no one would know it, judging by the pace of events. Stackpole is clearly at home in this kind of story; he loves the militaristic arm of the Rebellion, and he does well with it. His attention to detail shines in several places, from the complexity of his characters’ plans all the way down to his description of the control mechanisms of a speeder bike. Moreover, this is our first good look in the EU at post-Jedi Coruscant, which will be a major site throughout everything still to come. Great things have happened, and greater things lie ahead.

Next time: We pick up the pieces of an ailing world in book three, The Krytos Trap! See you there.

X-Wing: Wedge’s Gamble is available from Amazon and other booksellers.

You can find Wookieepedia’s treatment of the novel here.

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Revisiting Star Wars: X-Wing: Rogue Squadron (X-Wing #1)

Every part of the Expanded Universe (EU, also begrudgingly known as Legends) has its fans and devotees; but there will always be differences of opinion. Few entries in the series reach universal heights of adoration and devotion, however. You have the Thrawn Trilogy, and…well, that’s very nearly it. If you hang out in fan forums and comment threads, you’ll find criticism at some point for nearly everything else. That’s the nature of fandom, and it’s not a bad thing—we’re all entitled to like what we like and dislike what we dislike.

There is one other corner of the EU, though, for which I can’t recall ever seeing complaints. Today, we arrive at that corner, and it is great. I’m talking about the X-Wing series of novels by Michael A. Stackpole and Aaron Allston. Today, we’re looking at the first book in the series, 1996’s X-Wing: Rogue Squadron (which, coincidentally, is the first Star Wars novel not to include Han Solo, Luke Skywalker, or Leia Organa).

First Edition Cover. Courtesy of Wookieepedia.

I’ll say up front that the X-Wing series has been a blind spot in my Star Wars experience. Back in my days of heavier EU reading—before I mostly switched from print to ebooks—I read whatever I could get my hands on, and I never managed to acquire the X-Wing series. The beauty of the EU, however, is in its interconnections and shared canon (more on that another time), and so I was familiar with the aftereffects of the X-Wing novels, even without having read them. It was no big secret that this is the series where the New Republic takes Coruscant from the Empire, for example. The Rogue Squadron pilots themselves appear again and again in the series. Series protagonist Corran Horn goes on to become my personal favorite Jedi (so, spoiler that he doesn’t die…?).

That last point—the matter of Corran Horn—made me excited to finally read this series. There’s not a bad or ill-conceived character here, so far at any rate; but Corran, as I said, is a favorite of mine. I’m excited to finally learn some of the background that led to the events of I, Jedi and his duel against Shedao Shai for the fate of Ithor in Dark Tide II: Ruin. Of course, the other Rogues are no slouches themselves, with such luminaries as Wedge Antilles and Tycho Celchu among their numbers.

So, let’s dig in! But, a few things first: Here is the timeline we’re using for this readthrough, starting with The Truce at Bakura, but omitting some of the children’s books such as the Jedi Prince series. We’re taking the series in order, which means that the next seven posts (including this one) will be X-Wing novels, so be prepared! Then we’ll get a lengthy break that includes some very well-known and popular novels, and then we’ll be back to this series briefly. Also note that I use the conventional fan- and behind-the-scenes system of dates that centers on the Battle of Yavin in Episode IV; this story takes place in 6.5 ABY (After the Battle of Yavin). Also, as always, Spoilers ahead for anyone who has not read this book! It would be nearly impossible to avoid all spoilers and still discuss the novel, so read at your own risk!

X-Wing: Rogue Squadron is the story of Wedge Antilles’s reinstallation of the famous Rogue Squadron. This team of starfighter pilots was originally formed after the Battle of Yavin from survivors of other squadrons, notably Red Squadron, the squadron in which Luke Skywalker and Wedge Antilles flew during the attack on the first Death Star. The fledgling New Republic makes the decision to re-form the squadron for a dual purpose: To take the fight back to the Empire and strike fear into their hearts, and to inspire worlds to join the Republic. To that end, Wedge selects a diverse group of pilots: Lujayne Forge, a human from Kessel with a chip on her shoulder; Erisi Dlarit and Bror Jace, Thyferrans from powerful Bacta-producing families; Riv Shiel, a wolflike Shistavanen; Aril Nunb, the Sullustan sister of Nien Nunb; Gavin Darklighter, cousin to former X-Wing pilot Biggs Darklighter; Rhysati Ynr, from Bespin; Nawara Ven, a Twi’lek and former attorney; Peshk Vri’syck, a male Bothan; Andoorni Hui, a Rodian; Ooryl Qrygg, an insectlike Gand with a rigid code of honor; and Ooryl’s wingmate, Corran Horn, a former member of Corellian Security with a difficult past, but phenomenal flying skills. He also recruits former Rogue Tycho Celchu as his executive officer, but this comes with a price; Tycho was previously held in the notorious Imperial prison Lusankya, and the Republic refuses to trust that he has not been compromised.

The book takes our recruits through the growing pains of becoming a squadron—and not just any squadron, but Rogue Squadron, a unit famed for daring—and receiving—death. The Rogues are thrust into action early when the Republic sets its sights on Coruscant, the Imperial capital world, now held by former Imperial Intelligence Director Ysanne Isard. Isard is no easy enemy, though; and she has many tools at her disposal. One such tool is a partially-disgraced Intelligence operative named Kirtan Loor, who has much to prove—and a special hatred for one Corran Horn. The novel carries us through the first and second battles of Borleias, an Imperial world with a direct line to Coruscant—and secrets of its own. In the end, the Rogues win the battle—but not without cost, as they suffer their first losses in what promises to be a protracted war.

As can be expected, much of this first volume consists of laying groundwork for what is to come. There’s characterization to be built, settings and scenarios to be established, and emotional weight to be installed. We’re dealing with an entire squadron of twelve pilots here, plus supporting characters and villains, and many of them appear for the first time here; in short, there’s a lot of ground to cover. Don’t let that fool you into thinking nothing happens, though; one of Michael Stackpole’s strengths seems to be the ability to strike a balance, or so it seems thus far. He gives us plenty of character moments; but he also gives us the twin Battles of Borleias, great set pieces of starfighter combat. There are other, smaller battles scattered throughout the book as well. Stackpole also seems to be adept at using a minimum number of scenes to establish drama; for example, pilot Lujayne Forge only gets one in-depth scene, but it’s enough to make her death, the first in the squadron, carry a great deal of weight for her fellow pilots, and for us as readers. (I very much wanted her to live, and I’m not quite ready to forgive Stackpole for letting her die first.)

Stackpole doesn’t shy away from deaths, either. By the end of the book, three pilots—a quarter of the squadron—are dead, with no replacements yet in sight. That’s quite a number for an introductory novel. The shadow of death always looms large over the Rogues; it’s reiterated many times that all starfighter squadrons have high death rates, and Rogue Squadron more than most.  The best course of action for the reader, it seems, is to assume that if the character is newly created for this series, one should not get too attached to him or her.

As I mentioned, we focus on Corran Horn. Horn is a hotshot pilot from Corellia, a former member of Corellian Security (aka CorSec), forced to go on the run to escape the evil intentions of Kirtan Loor, who was the Imperial Intelligence Liaison at Corran’s branch of CorSec. Corran will one day be a Jedi, like his grandfather before him; but he knows nothing of that yet. Fortunately for us, it appears Corran’s future was planned to some degree in advance, because there are definite hints of his Force abilities here, although he doesn’t recognize them as such. Much time is spent discussing his past with CorSec, especially as it relates to Kirtan Loor, Corran’s father Hal Horn, and former supervisor Gil Bastra. Most of this discussion comes through interactions with Lujayne Forge, who hails from the prison world of Kessel—to which Corran routinely consigned prisoners while with CorSec—and smuggler Mirax Terrik, whose father Booster Terrik was apprehended and sent to Kessel by Corran’s father. Early hints also appear of the future relationship between Corran and Mirax, which will precipitate the events of I, Jedi.

The novel leaves us poised for the campaign to retake Coruscant—but other plot threads are left dangling as well. New pilots are needed for the Rogues, with little time to prepare and train. The squadron’s military protocol droid, M3PO (“Emtrey” for short) has secrets which are yet to be revealed. The disposition of Borleias has not yet been shown. Corran’s relationship with Mirax has yet to find its feet. Tycho Celchu’s mysterious past has not been revealed…and Rogue Squadron has a spy in their midst.

Overall: There’s a lot to take in here! I suspect that later novels won’t have to feel quite so busy, and will be able to take their time with the storytelling. That is in no way an insult to Stackpole’s work here; he’s done an amazing job of including everything that needed to be included, while still keeping the reader hooked. There’s always housekeeping to be done in the first novel of a series; but Stackpole does it with efficiency and style. I find myself looking forward to what lies ahead, not just for Corran’s story, but for all the Rogues, and even our villains. As usual, the villains start out as what I like to call “stock plus one”—that is, stock villains plus one defining characteristic. In the case of Kirtan Loor, his “plus one” is an eidetic memory on which he perhaps relies too much; for Borleias’ Imperial General Evir Derricote, it’s his provincial secret-keeping; for Ysanne Isard, it’s her sheer fearsomeness. Already the characters are beginning to develop, however—especially Loor, who is undermined and redeemed several times in the novel. Overall it’s a good mix, and sets us up well for the series. I expected that, while the series would be good, there would be nothing new; and I’ve been pleasantly surprised to see that that is not the case. I’m enjoying it, and you will as well.

Next time: We’ll attack Coruscant in book two, Wedge’s Gamble! See you there.

X-Wing: Rogue Squadron is available from Amazon and other booksellers.

You can find Wookieepedia’s treatment of the novel here.

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Book Review: The Postman, by David Brin

I have a weakness for post-apocalyptic fiction. I blame Stephen King. I read his opus The Stand at entirely too young an age—I was maybe twelve, and the Complete & Uncut Edition had only recently come out—and it always stuck with me. (I suppose you can argue that it’s apocalyptic fiction, not post-apocalyptic, but you don’t need that kind of negativity in your life.) As a result I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time over the years A) thinking about how I’d try to survive in such a scenario, and B) seeking out more such stories.

That brings us to the Fallout series of video games, which (I think) I’ve referenced before on this blog. The games take place over the course of the next two to three hundred years, in an alternate timeline where a series of wars culminated in a short but devastating nuclear attack. Many of the survivors were mutated; many others survived by living in underground vaults, which turned out to be less humanitarian shelters and more terrifying social experiments. Not relevant, but notable: the most recent entry, Fallout 76, takes place in my home state of West Virginia, with many landmarks that are close to my hometown. It’s a great series of games, and if you’re into that sort of thing, you should check it out.

I browse a few communities dedicated to discussion of—and recommendations for—books. Several times I’ve seen threads come up asking for books similar to the Fallout series, books which—surprisingly to me—seem to be in short supply. There’s plenty of post-apocalyptic literature out there, but not much that captures the foraging, survivalist, devastated vibe of the game series. And It’s really no wonder; this seems to be an issue with post-apocalyptic movies, as well. (I’d recommend The Book of Eli for a starter, if you’re interested; it’s perhaps the most Fallout-esque movie I’ve seen.) One book, however, comes up again and again in these threads; that book is David Brin’s 1985 novel, The Postman.

First Edition Cover

Let me go ahead and say it up front: This is the book that was adapted into the 1997 Kevin Costner movie of the same name. But I can’t comment on that; I haven’t seen the movie. Frankly, from what I’ve read about it, I’m glad to have read the book first; I’d rather not judge the book by the movie. It’s easier for me to make comparisons with Fallout; and indeed, I’ve read suggestions that this novel was an inspiration for the Fallout series. That may be true or may not, but regardless, there are definite similarities. At any rate, when I saw this book get recommended so often, I knew I had to check it out.

The Postman is the story of Gordon Krantz, a 34-year-old survivor of the Doomwar, the nuclear war that led to the downfall of modern civilization, sixteen years earlier. Gordon has been wandering and surviving for years, searching for some place with a measure of civilization remaining, so that he can settle down; but it isn’t meant to be. He is ambushed and robbed as the story begins. Left with no belongings, and lacking even decent clothes, he stumbles upon an ancient postal service jeep with a mummified corpse inside. He takes the corpse’s uniform, simply for warmth; and for his own amusement, he takes the dead postman’s satchel and letters. However, he gets more than he bargained for when he discovers that, with a little nudging, other survivors are in awe of the trappings of the old world; and so he crafts a series of lies regarding the “Restored United States of America”, of which he claims to be a representative. At first he does so only to obtain food and shelter; but the lie—and its unexpected power—spirals beyond his control, as real postal routes are established in his wake, tying the scattered settlements together. Still, he feels nothing but guilt—until the fledgling alliance of towns is attacked by a force they aren’t equipped to handle, and it falls to Gordon Krantz to save them all.

I mentioned similarities to Fallout, and they are definitely present. In both works, most of the infrastructure of civilization lies in ruins; there are bunkers and military fortifications littering the landscape; survivalists and doomsday preppers are, not surprisingly, salted liberally among the survivors (and specifically the antagonists). There are talking supercomputers, a pretender to the name of the United States, a courier system, augmented human supersoldiers, fatal diseases, resource conflicts, raiders, drug problems, laser-bearing satellites, deceptive scientists, lots and lots of guns…I could go on. Notably missing are the underground vaults that form so much of Fallout’s infrastructure and plot; that innovation didn’t come from the novel, though it’s a natural extension of a nuclear apocalyptic scenario, with some real-world analogues.

The other noteworthy difference is in the means by which the apocalypse occurred. Brin goes to great lengths to establish that humanity was by no means in a vulnerable position when the Doomwar broke out; rather, it seemed to be on the cusp of a golden age. The only exception were certain regressive elements composed of survivalists and doomsday preppers, which—under the leadership of the tyrannical Nathan Holn—metamorphosed into something similar to a heavily armed Neo-Nazi movement. Unlike Fallout, the bombs and related breakdowns didn’t cripple humanity—in fact, humanity was well positioned to recover from the war itself. Rather, it was the Holnists and others like them who brought about the downfall of civilization, by destabilizing the world in the wake of the war. As a result, even feuding postwar communities will band together to wipe out Holnist enclaves; and it is a large army of Holnists—practically a nation in their own right—who are the principal antagonists of the story. Gordon Krantz, then, finds himself forging together a free nation in the wilds of Oregon, leading them against a far superior force of Holnists. After all, there are no more bombs available; but the Holnists didn’t really need the bombs the first time, and they can certainly destroy civilization again without it.

Thus, the book becomes something more than a battle between survivors…it’s a battle between ideals. Is civilization, here in its second chance, going to be founded on freedom and equality and community, or is it going to be founded on power and oppression and selfishness? I’ll let you read the book for yourself to determine the outcome.

I was impressed with the way Gordon’s own ethical dilemma was handled. Like many other post-apocalyptic protagonists, Gordon is a bit of a relic of the old world—an idealist among pragmatists. His internal struggle is certainly one of idealism vs. pragmatism—is it better to tell the truth (that the old US is well and truly dead) or to use the lie to live another day? But, as the story progresses, and Gordon becomes more bound to the lie, it becomes less about him and more about those around him. He is faced with the question of “who will take responsibility for these people?” The book never actively condones the lie; but as Gordon grapples with responsibility, it says to him, “This is what you’ve done—now what are you going to do with it? How will you bring good out of this lie?” Ultimately that’s what he does—his lie, though never right, is turned toward the goal of forging a better future for the people in his care. He never excuses himself, but he chooses the hard path of seeing it through and making something good. That’s a hero worth following, in my opinion.

Not sure I would have gone with an endorsement from Whitley Streiber, whose books scared the hell out of me as an impressionable kid…but that’s a topic for another time.

Of course, it brings us to the same question. Why wait for the post-apocalypse, when we face the same dilemma every day: Who will take responsibility? I won’t call it an epidemic, but there are certainly many people in our world today who refuse to ever take responsibility—for themselves, for their families, for anyone else in their orbit. That’s not even getting to the matter of taking responsibility for the world—the world is too big to consider at every occasion. Its size becomes an excuse for us; we can say we’re concerned, but there’s very little we can do to show it. However, when it comes to our own lives, and our own actions, and our own families and friends, we really have no excuse.  At some point each of us is called upon to step up, do the hard thing, stay the course, and take responsibility.  We can take that lesson from Gordon Krantz, and be the one who follows through.

Heavier material than I expected from a mid-eighties sci-fi novel, I admit. I think that’s good enough for today.

Happy reading!

It’s a new year, and a new reading challenge! What are you reading this year? With a good month under my belt, I’ve decided to increase my reading goal to 52 books for the year, or one per week on average; you can do the same, and check out the 52 book challenge community over at Reddit. So far I’ve completed ten books. You can join me on Goodreads, and post your own challenge!

Book Review: Children of Time, by Adrian Tchaikovsky

In a recent post, I commented that I rarely read up-to-date books. As I said at the time, that’s not because I have a problem with them; it’s just that I have such an enormous backlog of older books to read, that I rarely have time to pick up recent releases. But today, I’m making an exception; I’m taking a leap forward into the last five years (sorry, those of you who were hoping for a present-day release, this is as close as it gets, I’m afraid!). Welcome to Adrian Tchaikovsky’s 2015 award-winning novel, Children of Time.

Spoilers ahead for anyone who has not read this book! I’ll attempt to limit spoilers to the early chapters, but no promises!

I should backtrack a bit and make a confession: Sometimes I am a bit skeptical of present-day works. Of course this is nothing new in history, but many works of fiction—and especially science fiction—are a product of the social issues at large in the world at the time of their writing. That’s not a problem in itself; the issues at hand are real, and need to be addressed, and it’s not at all wrong for authors to address the issues about which they’re passionate. But my day job is in a field where I already confront many social issues face-to-face on a daily basis; and when I read for pleasure, I’m usually looking for escapism. Perhaps that’s one reason why I favor books from previous decades; while those authors also were incorporating the issues of the day, the day itself has changed, and those issues are no longer current. Past passion becomes present escapism.

Children of Time occupies a unique position. It certainly builds on technological concepts that are current (or possibly near future), but it mostly avoids present-day social issues. The book takes place over the course of several thousand years, but those millennia are viewed in snapshots, with large gulfs of time between—thus, our present with all its problems becomes the distant past, and new issues arise. The book opens in the advanced future of our Earth, at a time when humanity has colonized the solar system and reached out to the stars. Doctor Avrana Kern is a proud and arrogant scientist, devoted to a terraforming project on a distant world, an experiment which is about to come to fruition. She and her team have developed a nanovirus that encourages and aids evolution, pushing species toward sentience and civilization. She plans to seed the new world with monkeys—chosen for their closeness to humanity—and then with the virus; and then, after a few centuries of accelerated evolution, her subjects will contact an observing satellite left in orbit. However, she is betrayed by a spy among her team, a member of a radical group from home, and her ship and teammates are destroyed. Kern herself is the only survivor, escaping on the observation satellite, where she uploads a copy of her mind into the ship’s artificial intelligence, and then puts herself into stasis. However, although the virus survives, the monkeys are destroyed upon reentry to the planet’s atmosphere—leaving other lifeforms to benefit from the virus’s ministrations. Kern is left unaware of this development. The story then shifts to the future, and showcases various stages in the development of life on the planet, paralleled by the story of a sleeper ship from a now-devastated Earth, in search of a new home.

I had read some reviews of this book prior to reading it, and was aware of the high acclaim it had received—notably it won the Arthur C. Clarke Award for best science fiction of the year in 2016. I was concerned that it would fall into the same trap that besets so much science fiction (including some of Arthur C. Clarke’s works!): that its ideas would overshadow its characters. I worried even more about this when I discovered that the book was structured as a series of vignettes spread over a vast period of time; I was certain the characters would get lost in the overarching story. I was very pleased to see that this isn’t the case. On the human side, you have, first, Dr. Kern, who starts out as a bit of a caricature, but becomes slowly more human in character over time—which is ironic, as she becomes increasingly less human in the physical sense. Then you have the main character, one Holsten Mason, a “classicist” who studies the now long dead works of the “Old Empire”, the human civilization of which Kern was a member. Mason is a part of the “Key Crew” of the sleeper ship Gilgamesh, meaning he isn’t one of the thousands of colonists frozen in storage, but is one of the ship’s actual crew. He is awoken from cryosleep several times throughout the story—with centuries between instances, usually—to help with various crises, and eventually to help save the ship and its crew and cargo. Mason—along with a few other members of Key Crew, including his occasional lover, the engineer Isa Lain—provide us with a steady perspective despite the time jumps, and serve to tie the story together. Meanwhile on the planet, Kern’s nanovirus is taken up by various lesser species, most notably a few species of spiders, who develop in unprecedented ways. The spiders themselves live and die in normal lifespans; but Tchaikovsky lessens the impact of this segmentation of the story by recycling names. In all, we only get about four names for various spiders, but they are recycled in each generation along ancestral lines, and so we get a feeling of continuity even in a discontinuous narrative.

I repeatedly ran across comments to the effect that the book is reminiscent of older science fiction novels, of the era of Asimov, Heinlein, Clarke, and others. It’s hard for me to pin down exactly why that would be so—what exactly is it that’s distinctive about that era of science fiction?—but I have to  say that I agree. There’s a feeling to this book that is very different from the science fiction I was reading between the late 1980s and the mid-2000s. The book is complex without being incomprehensible; suspenseful without being grim or dark; hopeful without being naïve. I have considered that this may be in part because of the way Tchaikovsky portrays the crew of the Gilgamesh; they come from a world that has pulled itself up out of the ruins of an old world, and they are still in a way very young as a society. They have been through some terrible things, but they lack the cynicism of modern America and Europe, while also lacking the wide-eyed utopianism of, say, Star Trek. They have no illusions—they know at all times that they are the last of the human race, and their survival is fragile—but they also aren’t jaded by the things that led to this situation. That attitude spills over into the tone of the book in general, and it’s refreshing.

Overall, it’s a great story, and I was pleasantly surprised to find it so. I can’t speak for the rest of Tchaikovsky’s work; I was surprised to learn that he’s been quite prolific, and that this is perhaps his twelfth or thirteenth novel, as I had never heard of him before this book. That’s most likely because I tend to pay attention to science fiction and fantasy; this is his first science-fiction novel. I may check out more of his work at some point, but not soon—unless a sequel is announced! But I hope that that doesn’t happen. Some works are worthy to stand alone, and don’t need—indeed, would be diminished by—sequels. This is one of them. (However, the prospects for such a thing are by no means settled—the book has been optioned since 2017 for a film, and we know Hollywood loves sequels. So we’ll wait and see.)

At any rate: This is a little short today, but I’ll end on a positive note: Go read this book! You won’t be disappointed.

Happy reading!

It’s a new year, and a new reading challenge! What are you reading this year? Having unfortunately not met my goal last year, I’ve scaled back a bit, to thirty books in 2019; so far I’ve completed seven. You can join me on Goodreads, and post your own challenge!

Book Review: Starmaker, by Olaf Stapledon

If you’ve been with me for awhile–or at least long enough to know me for book reviews–you may have noticed that I rarely cover new or very recent books. There’s a good reason for that: I rarely read new or very recent books. It’s not that I have anything against them; it’s just that I’m so far behind on great books of the past that I’ll never catch up!

But I’m not alone in this, nor in my love for–especially–classic science fiction. To that end, I recently discovered the existence of the Cordwainer Smith Rediscovery Award. This award, founded in 2001, exists to recognize and promote some of the great science-fiction authors of the past, who may have fallen out of print and out of common knowledge. Unlike most literary awards, it’s not an award for a particular book; it’s for the author, and so various works by each author may fall under this umbrella. Naturally, I was hooked at once! And so, I assembled a list of authors and books, using the article I linked above, and set out to dip my toes in this particular forgotten pool of science-fiction.

I will say up front that I’m not planning to make a series of posts about this. I already have The Great Reddit Reading List to work through; and frankly, it’s going to take me a very long time to do that. I don’t need another series (especially considering that I have multiple Doctor Who review series running over at the Time Lord Archives as well). However, I do like to cover interesting things as I cover them; and so occasionally entries from the list of award winners may show up here. No pressure!

There’s nothing like starting at the top; and so I started with the first name listed in the article, Olaf Stapledon (05/10/1886-09/06/1950). The book I picked up was his Star Maker (link is to Amazon; you can get the Kindle edition for $0.99–note he’s listed as “William Olaf Stapledon”). The book was published in 1937 in the UK.

First Edition Cover

Star Maker (link to Wikipedia this time) is the story of an unnamed protagonist who, unexpectedly, finds his consciousness adrift in the universe. He quickly learns he is drifting through both time and space; and soon he learns to control his course. He discovers a species of beings similar to humans, with similar lives and problems, and is able to attach himself to one of them. Soon both of them learn to leave their bodies and travel together, eventually meeting up with a large group of like-minded individuals, who travel together backward and forward in time, seeking more like themselves. They eventually begin to trace the course of civilization, in anticipation of a great unity of minds that will reveal the being–the Star Maker, as he calls it–that created the universe. (He’s very careful to draw a distinction between the Star Maker and God as commonly depicted, because he makes the point that all of the cultures they meet have various gods, all of whom in some way reflect the Star Maker, but incompletely so.) In the end, he does so, and is both dismayed and wonderstruck by what he finds.

The book is a bit didactic, reading more like a series of lectures, or perhaps a travelogue–but that’s not unusual, given its era. It certainly doesn’t cover the usual conventions of a modern novel, and that may put some people off. However, it will be attractive to anyone who’s ever been enchanted by, say, Gulliver’s Travels. On the other hand, if you’re looking for action and adventure, this is not the book for you. Nevertheless, it’s been praised in the past; notably, Arthur C. Clarke considered it “one of the finest works of science fiction ever written” (Wikipedia, again).

There are some ideas here which become much more common in later science fiction–especially, the idea that humanity (and other forms of life) is progressing toward a sort of group mind, a global (or even galactic or universal) consciousness that will represent a utopia of sorts. I haven’t had the time to properly research the idea yet; but I wonder if this book is the ur-text, the prototype for that idea in fiction. (Thanks to Ken Jennings and John Roderick of the Omnibus! podcast for that wonderful term, “ur-text”, which I will most definitely use as often as I can.) Certainly I don’t recall seeing it in any older texts. We’ll see it come up again and again, though; perhaps the most famous example I can give you is the planet Gaia (and possibly later Galaxia) in the latter novels of Isaac Asimov’s Foundation series, which exists as a single united mind. The book also wrestles with the concepts of life and death, of individual worth and contribution to a whole, of the meaning of history, and of man’s relation to God (or, if you prefer, creation to creator). With regard to that last: Stapledon appears to be a proponent of theistic evolution, the idea that God started creation, but then allowed it to evolve on its own; but Stapledon seems to suggest that some form of guidance was involved, as similar patterns arise repeatedly on many worlds.

Oddly enough, in my opinion, Stapledon’s narrator doesn’t seem to be particularly affected in the end by what he experiences. Oh, he’s certainly wonderstruck; but there are no great life lessons, no great changes. He barely passes judgment on the things he’s seen. I think there’s a theme in that, although I don’t think it’s what Stapledon intended: I think it illustrates the idea that no matter what happens to us, we still have to keep going, keep living. We may be exalted by the events of our lives, but underneath it all, we’re still human, and that’s an essential part of us. The narrator returns to his own life, and carries on. (Must…resist…temptation to make a point about politicians…)

Anyway. It’s an interesting read, but I found it a bit of a slog; I’m certainly familiar with this style of writing, but it’s not my preference. Still, I’m glad I read it. I was surprised to learn that the book’s influence has been quite extensive; in addition to influencing a number of famous authors, it is responsible to some degree for the sci-fi “Big Dumb Object” concept known as a Dyson Sphere (creator Freeman Dyson even suggested they would be better known as “Stapledon Spheres”). I love digging into obscure-but-influential material such as this, and learning the sources of things that I as a reader (or sometimes viewer) have taken for granted. It’s not the easiest read; but if this type of material is your cup of tea, you’ll find it enjoyable and fascinating.

Happy reading!

It’s a new year, and a new reading challenge! What are you reading this year? Having unfortunately not met my goal last year, I’ve scaled back a bit, to thirty books in 2019; so far I’ve completed two. You can join me on Goodreads, and post your own challenge!

TGRRL: Stranger in a Strange Land, by Robert Heinlein

My take on what I have called The Great Reddit Reading List can be neatly divided in two: Those books that I read prior to discovering the list, and those that I’m reading as a result of the list. (If you want to be picky, you could further divide into those I’ve read already as a result of the list, and those still to come—sadly, that third category would probably be the largest, but I’m working on that!) Today’s entry, Robert Heinlein’s famous and popular Stranger in a Strange Land, is one of the second category—those I’ve read as a result of the list—but it’s an early entry into that category. That means it’s been a few years now, and as such my memory of it has started to settle, and I’ve had to review a bit in order to discuss it.

First Edition Cover. Borrowed from Wikipedia.

I frequent several relevant subreddits–/r/books, /r/sciencefiction, and /r/printSF come to mind—and the consensus seems to be that people have a contentious relationship with Heinlein. While he’s certainly regarded as one of the godfathers of science fiction, he also has a reputation for being a difficult or sometimes frustrating read. That has not been my own experience so far; but, I’m a relative newbie when it comes to Heinlein (I’ve never even read Starship Troopers, y’all! Or watched the movie!). I was briefly convinced that I had read some of his work—short stories at least—in my younger days, but after some research, I don’t believe that’s the case. As far as I can tell, Stranger is the first of his works that I’ve read, followed later by The Moon is a Harsh Mistress (which is also on the list, and which we’ll cover…eventually). Still, perhaps that will allow me to look at it with fresh eyes.

Stranger in a Strange Land is the story of a young man, Valentine Michael Smith, who was born to a pair of human space travelers on Mars, and left there upon their deaths. Being raised by the indigenous Martians, his outlook on life is very different from that of humans on Earth; and when he is found on a subsequent expedition and brought to Earth, the changes are profound, for Smith and for everyone who encounters him. His dubious legal status—and fabulous wealth, inherited from his parents—bring great political and physical danger. He is rescued and taken in by an author, doctor, and lawyer named Jubal Harshaw, who attempts to understand him. He eventually founds a religion of sorts based on his Martian ideas and religion, with the end goal of changing human society from the inside out, and advancing the course of history. He is eventually killed—though persisting in a form of afterlife—leaving Jubal and other followers to carry on his work.

While Stranger’s concepts have not passed wholesale into culture (the way that those of our last entry did), they have had some widespread influence. Most notably the verb “grok” has passed into the English language, especially among fans and those with interests that connect back to the novel. Its literal meaning is “to drink”, but by extension, it means “to know or comprehend; to love; to be one with” (thanks again, Wikipedia!). as well, the ideas embodied in Smith’s Church of All Worlds carried over to a real-world incarnation of the church, founded in 1968, which still exists today. In the book and in the organization, polyamory was promoted, along with nontraditional family arrangements, and other social libertarian ideas.

I’m not sure that I would call the book controversial these days, though I daresay it was controversial at the time. Had its ideas been promoted in a more mainstream venue, surely it would have been more hotly debated. It perhaps benefited from the fact that science-fiction was still a niche market (an abundant one, perhaps, but still niche), one that didn’t have the credibility it has gained since. Remember that Heinlein is one of the giants on whose shoulders modern SF authors stand; but giants don’t get much admiration in their own time.

I can say with certainty that some of the book’s concepts—the polyamory, the classic phrase “Thou art God”, the ecumenism—would have been frowned upon in religious circles, of the type in which I grew up and still live. I’m not complaining; I also believe that monogamy is the intended design for humans, that there is only one correct path of salvation, etc.—I’ve never hidden the fact that I am still a Christian. As I pointed out in my last post, I hold that in many ways, fiction gets a pass on those matters, just for the sake of being fiction.

With that said, however, there’s another side to the issue, one which Stranger highlights nicely. While all fiction can be read as fiction (and thus get a pass on the things it proposes), not all fiction is written from that viewpoint. Heinlein is quite critical of the American governmental and financial systems, and of organized religion in America (and possibly in general).  As far as I can tell, the views reflected in his work are his actual views, not simply created from whole cloth. Sometimes he may take them to extremes for descriptive purposes; I suspect, for example, that although he is in favor of a communal spirit, he isn’t seriously advocating eating the bodies of our dead in order to be one with them! But the broad strokes are true-to-life. What do we do with that?

I’ve struggled with this issue from the other side of the desk: as a writer. Many older authors, like Heinlein, filled their works with their own beliefs. There are certain things they take for granted, and so their characters live in those worlds and take them for granted. One example here is Heinlein’s view that the future would bring about non-traditional family structures, a topic which will show up again in the polyandrous, matrilinear families in The Moon is a Harsh Mistress. Not a controversial topic if it’s simply fictional; but Heinlein seems to have believed this would be a better future, and so he portrayed it often. I have struggled to do the same in my work…there are many things I believe strongly in my own life, but my characters and stories seem to be detached from that. In essence, I’m telling stories with no agenda other than to tell good stories, while Heinlein and other classic authors very clearly have an agenda. It’s not the same agenda across the board, but they all want to promote something. I just want to promote the pleasure of reading a good story.

I’ll admit to some guilt over that. I’ve often asked myself if this is the best use of my talents (not that I’m using my fiction talents much these days anyway, but that’s another story). Should I be promoting something? Should  I be pushing a message? But when I consider how to do so, I often come up blank. My first love is the story, and adding layers to that purpose seems to be a burden.

Nevertheless, the point remains: Many authors do exactly that, and Heinlein is one of them. Although I believe we can read his stories for the fun of it—I certainly did—they leave us with questions that we must answer for ourselves. I’m not suggesting that we all come to the same answers—we won’t—but we all have to take these various messages and decide, at the bottom, if we agree or not. Will that in turn affect our enjoyment of the story? Yes, I think—and perhaps unfortunately so; but there we are.

However, I’ll leave you with one observation: There is power in passion. Heinlein is clearly passionate about the things he believes (or was; he passed away in 1988). His stories resonate even today, because of that passion. Whether you walk away agreeing with him or not, you walk away knowing an impact has been made. That’s a quality to which any author can aspire.

Happy reading!

It’s a new year, and a new reading challenge! What are you reading this year? Having unfortunately not met my goal last year, I’ve scaled back a bit, to thirty books in 2019; so far I’ve completed two. You can join me on Goodreads, and post your own challenge!

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Flash Fiction: Turnabout

I haven’t posted in almost a month, chiefly because it’s been a busy month, and I haven’t managed to finish any of the books I’m reading. Nor have I had much time to work on any fiction–a little background work for a story, but that’s it. That’s how life goes, I suppose. At any rate, I feel like my skills are getting a little rusty; and so, in the absence of the long stretches of time it takes to write anything of length, I’m trying my hand at something I can do in the brief stretches I have available: flash fiction.

The term is loosely defined, and different authors implement it in different ways. I’m pulling mine from an ongoing series of writing prompts on another blog titled The Prediction. Each week the author of that blog runs a small flash fiction contest in which your entry must contain three selected words. Entries must be 100 words or less (not counting the title), and must be in the genres of science-fiction, fantasy, horror, or noir. I’m too late to enter this week’s contest (which would be a first for me anyway), but I’ve put together a story from this week’s prompt anyway. Naturally, due to word count constraints, there’s not much development in a flash fiction story; it’s a question of how much impact you can get across in a few words. I don’t consider this attempt to be very good; but it’s my first, at any rate, so there’s room for improvement. Thanks for reading!

This week’s prompt: Must include the words ‘deadlock’, ‘intercept’, and ‘maiden’.

 

Turnabout

“You won’t intercept them. They have eighteen hours on you.” The prisoner grinned, his teeth stained with blood. The guard moved to hit him again, but I stopped him.

“You know the war is at a deadlock.”

“Not for long,” he said. “When the Maiden gets home with that data, we’ll be able to crush your fleet.”

“Maybe.  But I wouldn’t count on it.”

His grin faltered. “And why is that?”

“You’re assuming I want to catch them.” This time, I grinned. “We worked much too hard to plant that bioweapon. No, that ship is right where I want it.”

Short Story: Performance Review

Lately I’ve been giving the lion’s share of my time and energy to the Time Lord Archives, my Doctor Who-themed blog.  As a result, things have been looking pretty dead around here this year, and that’s unfortunate.  Still, I haven’t forgotten this blog or those who follow it; and so, here’s a new short story.  This story, Performance Review, comes courtesy of a writing prompt from Reddit’s /r/WritingPrompts subreddit (although I haven’t posted the story there–it’s exclusively here for now!).  The prompt in question, submitted by user Mistah_Blue, reads: “It’s common knowledge that lab accidents sometimes result in superpowers.  You’re repeatedly trying to engineer lab accidents in order to gain them. Much to your disappointment however, all your accidents just result in monumental scientific discoveries.”  Happy reading!

Artist unknown.  Picture borrowed without permission from the website of consulting firm Travois.

 

“John,” the man in the lab coat and tie said, “you know why I’ve called you here, don’t you?”

The man across the desk was younger by a good fifteen years, and his lab coat was considerably more rumpled. He slumped in his chair and gave a half-hearted nod.  “Yessir, Dr. Corbin.  My performance review.”

The older gave him an impassive look, and then glanced down at the floor beside his chair. “That’s right…the dreaded annual review!  Now, don’t be intimidated.” From the floor, he picked up an absurdly large and overstuffed file folder, and set it on the desk.  It made a disconcerting thump, and John jumped in his chair a little.  “Let’s get started, shall we?” He opened the file and perused the top page.  “Now you joined us last year—well, of course—from one of our subsidiary internship programs.  Very high marks, as I recall.  But you’ve, ah, had an eventful year! Why don’t you tell me a little about it?”

John remained sullen and silent. After a moment, Dr. Corbin looked back down at the file, then back up.  “John, I want you to understand that I’m not here to make you nervous.  Your work here isn’t in jeopardy—in fact, your performance has been spectacular beyond anyone’s expectations.  It’s remarkable, really.  You have nothing to worry about.”  He paused and pushed his glasses up on his nose.  “What I want to talk about is how this happened.  Your review is excellent, so we can get that out of the way.  I really want to hear your take on your experiences here.  Fair enough?”

John nodded again, and finally looked up. “What do you want to know?”

That seemed to be the cue for which Corbin was waiting. He flipped a few pages in the folder, and then planted his index finger on an entry.  “Well, alright.  Let’s start with the fusion incident.  This happened, I believe, about a month after you joined us.  What happened there?”

“The experiment failed,” John muttered.

“Failed?” Corbin seemed shocked. “What do you mean?”

John sighed. “It was like this, sir.  Do you remember Jeremy DuPont?”

Corbin nodded. “The so-called Atom Man.  He actually interned in the same program as you, a few years earlier, though he went on to a different employer before his…accident.”

“Right. Anyway, sir, as you know, all of his research notes were famously lost in the lab fire that sparked his new, um, career.  Well, I thought that I could reconstruct his research.  There were certain markers in his statements about the work that led me to a certain path of study—“

“Wait a minute,” Corbin said. “Are you saying you intended to repeat the experiments that turned Jeremy DuPont into…” He trailed off.

“…A superhero,” John said.

“Yes, that.”

“Yessir.”

Corbin gave him an even gaze. “You are aware of the phrase ‘lab accident,’ aren’t you?”

“Yes. I’m aware that it was an accident that gave Atom—that gave Jeremy his unusual abilities.  But I thought that the process could be standardized, and made safe.  Imagine it, sir! The ability to create superpowers on demand!  To give people the ability to—“

“—The ability to fly, but also to constantly emit lethal levels of radiation, such that one can’t have anything approximating a normal life?”

John dropped his gaze. “Nobody’s perfect, sir.”

“No, I suppose not.” He returned to the file for a moment. “At any rate, there WAS a lab accident during your research.”

“Yes. But the experiment was a failure, like I said.”

“A failure? Because it didn’t make you into a new Atom Man?” John shrugged. Dr. Corbin looked incredulously at him.  “John, your accident gave us a stable process for cold nuclear fusion!  That’s one of the greatest and most sought after discoveries of this century.  It’s already revolutionizing the energy industry!”  Seeing that John was unmoved, he sighed.  “Alright, let’s move on.  Tell me about…” He flipped a few more pages.  “The variable-mass experiment.”

“Alright. I had been reading up on the work of Dr. Emilia Nox.  A few years ago she experimented with mass variability through particle acceleration—quantum mass variability, she called it.  She was making very good progress with it, until…well, I suppose you know.”

“A lab accident,” Dr. Corbin said. “Yes, I remember.”

“Right,” John said. “Well, I thought I could expand on her work by incorporating some of the equations about dark matter.  It’s not as though we had access to any, since no one even knew if it really existed, but we know enough about its properties in a mathematical sense.  I figured that I could incorporate some of those equations and overcome some of her hurdles.”

A suspicious look had dawned on Corbin’s face. “Those hurdles you mentioned…those wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that her unfortunate lab accident gave her the power to turn invisible, would they?”

“I’m not sure I’d call it unfortunate, sir. And besides, it’s more to do with her ability to change her mass at will.  That makes her quite a threat to criminals, you know.”

Corbin glanced at the ceiling in a longsuffering gesture. “Superpowers again.  Well, anyway, your calculations must not have worked out as expected, because you encountered the same accident as Dr. Nox—or should I call her by her chosen name, Doctor Night?”

“She’d probably like that, sir. I’ve met her; she seems like a great person.  And anyway, yes, but it was also a failure.”

Corbin consulted his file. “That failure, as you say, resulted in a new, lab-reproducible, commercially-feasible method for not only detecting dark matter, but isolating samples for use.  As I understand it, as soon as the trial phases clear, that discovery alone stands to make you a very rich man, John.  I’m not sure how it’s a failure.”

Again, John shrugged. “It’s a nice accomplishment, but it wasn’t my goal, sir.”

“A nice acc…oh, never mind. Let’s go on.”

“If you insist, sir.”

“Well, that covers your first two months with us. In your third month…” He searched the file.  “Ah!  You switched your focus from physics to artificial intelligence.  It’s good to see a multidisciplinarian! What prompted the change?”

“Well, sir, I thought that since I’d had a few noteworthy failures already, I must be doing something wrong. I figured that if I could set up a workable AI, it could help me with monitoring and troubleshooting on my other goals.  The problem with current-generation AI, as you know, is that it inevitably goes rogue in some way.  There’s that famous case of the chatbot that turned into a neo-Nazi, and those security robots that killed themselves…and that’s just what we’ve seen on a small scale.  Large-scare AI could easily try to take over, so we don’t dare risk it.  Well, I thought I might get around that by keeping a human element in the system.  I wanted the AI to be dependent on a human brain, not for its processing power, but for its existence.  If a human is in the loop, he or she can shut down the AI with a thought if anything starts to go wrong.  So, I started looking at brain-computer interfaces.”

“It’s a novel approach,” Corbin admitted. “What made you think of that?”

“I, uh…well, sir, do you recall a situation where a microprocessor array blew up in a lab assistant’s face? This would have been a Microsoft project, about ten years ago.”

Corbin thought for a moment. “Ten years ago…ten years…oh, yes, I do recall it, it was a very…wait a minute.” He sat up straighter and shot a look at John.  “You’re talking about Technoman!  The processors penetrated the tech’s brain, and gave him the ability to interact with electronic systems by thought alone.  He calls himself Technoman now, and fights cybercrime, right?”

“That would be the one, sir. Anyway, I thought that if I could implant the processors rather than have it happen by accident—“

“But there was an accident.  A processor array did explode, and you were struck by a flying processor.  I remember it now.  You were out on medical leave for a few weeks.” He arched an eyebrow.  “No Technoman?”

“No Technoman, sir. Even though the processor couldn’t be removed.” He scratched at his temple.  “It still itches.”

“But this was a success for you as well,” Corbin said. “When the lab was burning, your AI made the leap to the local mainframe and took charge of the fire suppression system, ensuring that you lived.  It saved your life; and when questioned later, it expressed loyalty to you.  Examination of its code revealed elements that were clearly not designed, but that in hindsight render it both safe and loyal to humanity—elements that could only have come from its brief contact with your brain.  You advanced the science of artificial intelligence by at least two decades.  I suppose you’re going to call that a failure?”

“Yes sir.”

“Why?”

“I needed that AI for a lab assistant. But now it’s so busy being examined and studied that I can never get access to it for my work!”

Corbin sat back, unsure how to proceed. Finally he spoke.  “John…I think that you and this company may have different goals.”

John looked up, alarmed. “Sir!  That’s not true.  You’re not…terminating me, are you?”

“Oh, no, not that.” Corbin shook his head.  “John, we’re a research institution here.  We innovate.  We make discoveries.  Usually those discoveries are incremental, because that’s how science works—well, except in your case.  But you, John…I really think you’re just here to get superpowers.”

John’s face turned red. “Sir, I—“

“No need to defend yourself,” Corbin said. “It’s reasonable enough.  We live in a day when there’s an established history of lab accidents granting powers to individuals.  And it’s a good thing too—with most superheroes having a scientific background, they’re more likely to use their powers responsibly, don’t you think?”

He leaned back and put his hands on the desk. “Your goal is noble, John, but it conflicts with ours.  And I have to admit, I’m conflicted about it, because while you’re causing what is frankly an obscene number of accidents, your results are amazing.  Here, look.”  Flipping through the file, he stopped at section after section.  “May of last year, the monofilament situation.  You wanted a way to strengthen your own skeletal structure with carbon monofilaments; what you got—after blowing up the extrusion chamber—was a brand-new method for structuring the atoms in monofilaments, increasing the tensile strength by a factor of a thousand.  June: One of the technicians says that you mentioned wanting the ability to teleport.  Your experiment put you in the hospital overnight, but it gave us the ability to carry out quantum teleportation on the macro scale, albeit only on small objects—but still, that’s unheard of!  July: You wanted to be able to fly, so you worked on manipulation of energy fields in localized areas.  We lost eighty thousand dollars of lab equipment on that one, but we can now generate stable force fields!  Shall I go on?”

“No sir,” John said.

Corbin shook his head. “John, do you understand what all of this means?”

At last, John sat up straight, even defiantly. His face was red, and there were tears in his eyes.  “Yes! It means that none of my theories were true! I haven’t been able to complete a single experiment all year, and besides, I’ve caused lab accidents every single time!”

Corbin gazed at him, and a smile twitched up the corners of his mouth. “No, John,” he said quietly.  “It means you don’t need to look for superpowers.  You already have one.”

That was not what John expected to hear. “I…what?”

“Yes. John, you’re the luckiest man in the world.”  He held up a finger.  “Think about it.  First, you survive accident after accident with little more than a few superficial injuries.  And on the one occasion when your injuries were serious, you survived something that would have killed anyone else.  Moreover, everyone else present for any of these accidents has survived, so clearly your luck is communicable to those around you.  And last of all, you’ve had an unbroken string of amazing scientific discoveries, all quite by accident! Now, what would you call that if not superpowered luck?”

John was silent for a long minute. “Well, when you put it that way,” he said at last.

“I do.” Corbin sat back.  “Now get back to work.”

John’s jaw fell open. “So…you’re not going to fire me?”

“I said that earlier, didn’t I? I’m not going to fire you.  In fact, I’m authorizing a raise.  HR will get with you about the details.  Now, go do some experiments.  Just,” he added, “do them in a different building, will you?”

Something Better: Or, I’m Not The Writer I Thought I Was

Let’s be honest: Finding something out the hard way sucks.  It’s even more so when the thing you’re discovering is a truth about yourself.  You can tack on another degree of difficulty when the misconception is one you’ve clung to for most of your life.  And that, friends, is where I am this week.

A few days ago, I completed an online writing course. I like to think I know my craft pretty well (and no, Peanut Gallery, that’s NOT the misconception I’m talking about!), and I like to think I don’t need any further training; but this wasn’t just any class.  It was a Masterclass course with James Patterson.  Yes, THAT James Patterson—bestselling author of Along Came A Spider (Alex Cross Series), The Angel Experiment (Maximum Ride Series), 1st To Die (Women’s Murder Club Series), and a whole lotta others.  It’s pre-recorded, of course, but that doesn’t mean the class was fire-and-forget on his part, because it came with a nice incentive:  entry into a contest in which Mr. Patterson will select a new author with whom to co-author a novel.

My good friend Cyndera, who also participated in the class and the contest, has posted this article about the lesson she learned from the contest, which, to sum up, is this: she doesn’t write suspense.  Suspense, of course, is James Patterson’s bread-and-butter, and the contest entries were to be within that genre.  It isn’t her thing, though, and that’s fine.  I’ve read her work, and it is definitely more sci-fi and young adult.  Within that area, she’s amazing (and talented in a few others, as well).  Suspense, though, doesn’t come easy for her.

I appreciate the honesty that it took to make that statement. Listen, no one wants to admit that they can’t do something, or put another way, that a certain field is just not for them.  It’s hard to do that, but when we can, we’re better for it.

While I didn’t set out to make this a companion piece to that article, I suspect it’s going to sound that way, because I had a similar moment of acceptance during the class. For me, the genres in question aren’t suspense, though; they’re science-fiction and fantasy.  Speculative fiction, some call them together.  I have, at long last, accepted the idea that I just can’t write in those genres.

It’s not that I lack the tools. I have years and years of reading in those areas under my belt, and you can’t help but pick up a sense of the mechanics.  I understand how elements of fantasy—history, epics, magic systems, and so on—work.  I get how to take scientific principles and the basics of technology and work those things into a story.  I know how to project into the future and get an idea of what might be possible.  No, what I lack is inspiration.  I lack the spark of creativity that is necessary to be truly speculative in my fiction—to come up with something that is, if not new, then new enough.  When I write in those genres, I’m just rehashing old ideas.

It wasn’t easy admitting this. Sci-fi and fantasy are my babies.  I love them like life itself, if I may be a little dramatic.  When I’m reading or watching, I get into those worlds like nothing else.  I’m passionately and unashamedly a nerd and a geek, and it shows (though I hope I’m not the stereotypically overbearing type of nerd).  And my earliest works of fiction were science fiction (well, fanfiction, but you get the idea).  Admitting that I’m not good at it stung more than a little.

I should have seen it coming, though. You can see it here on this blog, if you look in the Fanfiction section.  Megaman Legends: The Traitor is ostensibly a story about cyborgs and androids working to destroy the inhumane system that created them, even while they have to defend it from corrupting influences.  In reality, it’s a story about a broken marriage between two very broken people, who have to figure out what they mean to each other even while they re-establish what it means to be human.  Parasite Eve:  The Other is supposed to continue the story from that novel and game series, in which a human’s mitochondria develop sentience and alternately take over or hybridize with their hosts, creating new powers and lifeforms.  My version is about the ability of loyalty and familial love to overcome evil, both internal and external.  Secretly, my science fiction is actually drama!  (My attempts at pure, short science fiction, such as The Sky Is Burning…well, those are just terrible.)

As it turns out, I’m better with other things. Humor, for one.  I like to think that some of my humorous short stories (New Tricks, Storytime Is Hell, Of Cookies and Comprehension, A Fish Story) are pretty good.  I can do a little romance, though little of that makes it onto this site.  A little drama, as I’ve already said.

And—surprise, surprise—suspense. Surprising no one more than myself, I found that I like to write suspense, and I’m fair at it.  (I won’t say “good”; we’ll wait for the contest results to decide that!).  I like keeping the reader guessing.  I like taking average people and putting them in dangerous situations, then seeing what shakes out.  I like writing about criminals and psychopaths and dangerous people with dangerous intentions (not surprising there, given my background in corrections and mental health care).  I like having a search history that would give a homicide detective pause, because let’s face it, this stuff is fascinating, if darkly so.  I WANT to write thrillers that keep you turning pages.  I do have things to learn, and I need the practice.  But this is something I want to do.

So, we’ll see what happens. My contest submission is a rework of an idea that I  started here on this site a long time ago (and subsequently removed; you’ll find the page with an explanatory note, but the text has been removed), called King of Hearts.  I won’t say much about it now (not sure how any outside work will affect the rules of the contest), but I will keep you posted about any news.  Win or lose, it’s a story I intend to write.

And finally, to everyone who participated in the class and the contest: Good luck!  Everyone has come a long way.  I’m looking forward to see where we all go from here.