Book Review: The Gypsy Morph

The first Terry Brooks novel I ever read was The Elfstones of Shannara. It was one of the first fantasy novels I'd ever read, and I fell instantly in love with it. I know, I know. His critics claim that his work, especially the early stuff, is warmed over Tolkien. I don't care. I could actually read and comprehend Elfstones in a way that I could never have gotten into Tolkien. I wasn't ready to dig into the Lord of the Rings until college. I just didn't have the tools to get what was going on. But Elfstones I could get. It was accessible, and a good story with a decently subtle moral. I loved it. I still do. It's my favorite Brooks novel, by far, although I admit that I own just about everything he's ever written and enjoy most of it to one degree or another.

So, when The Gypsy Morph came out, it was a no-brainer that I was going to get it and read it post haste. Which I just finished doing. Yes, that's right. Instead of reading my friend's manuscript, or working on Wiglaf's Tale (my current obsession) or revising At What Cost (my last obsession) or hell, doing the laundry, vacuuming or doing anything else constructive, I polished off the last of the Genesis of Shannara series this morning. Was it worth the effort?

Hell, yes!

I was actually worried about this book quite a bit. The ending of Brooks' last Shannara sequence, the High Druid of Shannara, was disappointing to me in a really fundamental way. Brooks never pulls any punches when it comes to introspection, self-discovery and self-sacrifice. But the ending of High Druid was just no very satisfying. It left you with a "Well, damn!" kind of feeling. But The Gypsy Morph is much better. For one thing, there's an actual, honest-to-goodness happy ending, even if it is tempered with Brooks' usual bittersweetness. And I'm impressed with how he's managed to blend the worlds of Shannara and the Knights of the Word. Both worlds are reflections of our own, in one way or another, and it's nice to see a relatively seamless integration. It was just flat-out fun to watch a rune-covered black staff wielding Knight of the World kick demon ass alongside a blue Elfstone wielding smoking-hot, sexy-dangerous Elven Tracker.

There's one other thing I'd like to point out. The entire Genesis sequence has had a heavy environmental message layered on top of Brooks' usual story elements. Not that he's not had things to say about the environment before, but this series took on more and more of that call for environmental preservation as it went along, and I'm okay with that. Well, I suppose it's more of a cautionary tale. But either way you look at it, it's not a greenwash by any stretch of the imagination, if only because it's not the first time he's had elements of environmentalism laced through his works. But it's obvious that the author is very concerned about where we're going as stewards of our world, and I'm pleased to see it done so well. I seem to share his concerns. Also, he doesn't push a particular agenda. I view this series' environmental message as a very general call for a re-examination of our policies and prejudices. I don't think anyone, except some seriously right-wing wackaloon, can disagree with that.

A Confession And An Observation

First, the confession: I have never, until tonight, read the original Foundation trilogy by Isaac Asimov.

I know. I know. It hurts my geek cred to admit that. I always intended to get around to it, but there was always something else that seemed more accessible, more modern. And the Foundation series is pretty damned big, all told, so I was leery of getting into the thing. But I resolved to at least read the original trilogy, and if I couldn't get into them, I'd stop there. I read the Empire trilogy a few months ago, thinking they'd be a good way to get started, but boy oh boy, were those a slow read. So it kind of put me off of ol' Hari Seldon's grand schemes for a while.

But they shouldn't have, of course. The Foundation series is a little dated in language, but not in composition or style. These books really stand the test of time, I think. Which all good books should, of course. I could have done with a few less references to the glories of nuclear power, but considering how shiny and new it was, I can't blame Asimov for throwing the word in every chance he got. I'd have probably been excited by the gee-whiz factor myself at the time. I just wish his visions were advancing apace. We could use a few more decent nuclear reactors. They're a hell of lot better for the environment, all told, than what we're doing now.

Now for the observation: I never realized just how much George Lucas RIPPED ASIMOV OFF!

I mean, goddamn! In Foundation, there's a planet of ne'er-do-wells called Korellia! By the time of the Foundation novels, the capital of the Galactic Empire (Trantor) is a planet-sized city! Throw in the fisking anthropomorphic droids and mazel tov! It's Asimov! (to steal from a poem who's name which I can no longer remember). Honestly, it makes me really angry to think of this. I know that creative people build upon what has come before, but jebus! This just about puts the last nail in the coffin of my opinion of George Lucas. I've always been a huge Star Wars fan, and I doubt thats going to change much, but stealing a damned name right out of the book is just wrong.

Book Review: Your Inner Fish

Just finished up Your Inner Fish by Neil Shubin, and I have to say that I can definitely see what all the buzz is about. The man has an absolute passion for his subject, and science in general, that is downright infectious. I will say this, though. The bulk of the book is almost a primer for reading The Ancestor's Tale by Richard Dawkins. It covers our connections to other animals great and small, from bacteria to fish to primates in a variety of ways, which is what I believe Dawkins was also trying to do.

So, why read Your Inner Fish?

Well, for the fact-o-philes out there, the trivia index on this book is pretty high. I, for one, never knew that we humans (and all other mammals) hiccup because of our sharky and froggy ancestry. The section on cranial nerves and why they trace the paths they do through our heads was also very interesting.

For anyone interested in a career in one of the "field sciences", this book gives a glimpse of the joy to be had there, as well as the cost. I don't think Shubin meant it to be there, per se, but you can tell that there's at least a little bit of conflict lurking somewhere below the surface between his desire to be in the Arctic every summer and his desire to explore the world closer to home with his family.

For anyone looking for ammunition in the evolution/creation debate, Shubin does a good job of showcasing several different areas to look. The book itself is a little light on the hardcore arguments, though. The author doesn't come across as very confrontational at all, which I believe is a good thing for the most part. By the time I was ten pages into the book, I knew that I wanted to give it to one of my crazy creationist friends and beg him to read it. Not that it would do much good, but hey, it would be fun to watch, at least.

And last but not least, anyone looking for a feel-good, pro-science book will gobble this one down. I read it in about a day. It's very accessible, and just leaves you feeling positive about science when you put it down, no matter where you stop when you do. It's just a very positive book. I'll let the author's words explain exactly what I mean.

... the unknown should not be a source of suspicion, fear, or retreat to superstition, but motivation to continue asking questions and seeking answers. -- Neil Shubin, Your Inner Fish

I couldn't have said it better myself, and for those of you who know me well, you'll know that that's quite the concession. :)

Book Review: By Schism Rent Asunder

Okay, so I just finished By Schism Rent Asunder by David Weber. It's the sequel to Off Armageddon Reef, and it's a swords-and-pistols / sci-fi tale. Weber's a great world-builder, and I doubt I can add much to the more mainstream reviews of this book on most counts.

I will say this, though. I never realized until this particular effort of Weber's that he falls into the hyper-literate Robert Jordan school of authors. I don't know if he considers himself in that vein or not, but he definitely fits there. He's a consummate world-builder and has no trouble whatsoever creating and maintaining distance between the stances of his various characters. He's extremely wordy, though, using vignettes of minor characters talking while doing mundane tasks where he could have easily inserted the same information in other, less weighty ways. And we get far too many peeks into the minds of his main characters. I don't know about anyone else, but sometimes I like to work out what others are thinking on my own. Having it spelled out for me takes some of the fun out of reading for me. Not to mention the fact that so many internal dialogues dilutes the message, assuming he has one.

That being said, the story isn't bad. Set far in the future, humanity has been nearly exterminated by a hostile alien race. A relatively small (not to mention secret) colony was set up to keep the race alive. For some reason, the colonists all had their minds wiped, and a fake religion was ginned up to keep them in line. There was a conflict between some of the colony administrators, all of which were in the know and most of whom were styling themselves as Archangels of God, and an entire continent was turned into blasted island wreckage. Fast-forward almost a thousand years and the rebel administrators last, best hope wakes from a millenial slumber. Nimue Alban is a robot with the personality of a long-dead junior officer of the human space navy. She was there because she was rich, and was thus the only one available with a robot body that could be used for the purpose.

She takes a look around the muscle, water and wind powered world she's inherited and decides to set the world straight on humanity's origins by taking on the morally corrupt, technology-hating church the administrators had devised. Why technology-hating? Well, that's what attracted the evil aliens in the first place. Makes sense, right?

The rest of the story is a political/military fiction story set in the days of wind and wave. The only concession to its sci-fi roots is Nimue (who changes her name to Merlin Athrawes, and isn't that just a knee-slapper?) and her high tech toys. Her robot body gives her superhuman abilities, her fabrication unit gives her high-tech gadgets and her AI computer helper monitors essentially the entire planet for intelligence-gathering purposes. Despite all that, there's very little sci in the fi, if you know what I mean.

So, up to this point, not bad, right? I mean, it's a little wordy, a little lengthy, but it's still a well-crafted story set in an immersive world. But, I have a gripe with this book, and possibly this series.

The robot's got religion, folks!

That's right. The copied personality of a millenium-dead human believes in God. In a big way. The entire planet she lives on has had a patently false religion fousted off on them, but that's okay, because "faith in God" is still a good thing. Not one single person in on the big secret questions the existance of deity once. Not once! In fact, the bulk of people in on the fact that the planet's only religion is a giant lie fabricated for the purposes of controlling the masses are themselves members of that religious order. So, what's their first concern?

Not the truth, that's for damned sure. At several points in the book, the so-called "Church of Langhorne" is called the most monstrous lie in human history, but every time someone else is let in on the secret, the first thing they do is reconfirm their belief in God, even if the religion they've been taught their whole lives is a lie. Nimue/Merlin thinks on several occasions in the book about a time after the truth is revealed, so she does indeed plan on exposing the lie at some point. But she then goes on to say that God wouldn't condemn someone for being taught wrongly, but believing in good faith (so to speak, I'm paraphrasing there).

Apparently, future religions are lot more laid back than current-day ones, at least where the fine points of doctrine are concerned.

Every time this little dilemma came up while reading this book, I kept asking myself this: what religion is she going to use to replace the Church of Langhorne? Because a religion is nothing but a set of teachings and traditions. It's certainly not evidence-based, so what criteria is she going to use replace the Safeholdian religion? Is Islam appropriate? Maybe Southern Baptist teachings? Whatever version of human religion she chooses, it's still going to be her, or at least her cronies, choice. I just don't see being able to reintroduce the breadth of human religion to a world, so what gets left out?

I have a nice, simple answer. All of them. But in reading this newest of David Weber's works, I doubt he'll agree with me. And that's a shame.