Review: Gene Wolfe's A Borrowed Man Duology

The late Gene Wolfe (1931-2019) left us with a vast array of dizzyingly engrossing and baffling novels and short fiction that never quite matched genre description nor expectation. Mr. Wolfe instead delighted in playing with styles and used unreliable narrators to offer tales that you can never read the same way twice. Best known for his The Book of the New Sun tetralogy (The Shadow of the Torturer, The Claw of the Conciliator, The Sword of the Lictor, The Citadel of the Autarch), often referred to by his uncanny offerings to a tired and often unimaginative fantasy genre The Wizard-Knight, and always hinted at for "shorter" masterpieces such as Peace and The Fifth Head of Cerberus (you know, the ones that you can pat yourself on the back for getting the gist of, even if it's after someone tells you what to look for), Mr. Wolfe is widely acknowledged throughout the literary field, as well as by readers, to be one of the finest writers of the last hundred years. Before passing, Gene Wolfe left us with a pair of novels that were wildly unappreciated and somehow brushed aside in what many have presumed to be necessary precautions against tainting the legacy of a writer that was in his decline in his later years. (I challenge you to find anyone who read Wolfe after the 90's who can a) give you reasons why they think this that can be backed up with facts about his last several novels and b) read more than just Shadow of the Torturer.) One of these novels, Interlibrary Loan, was a posthumous surprise: quietly announced by Tor, Wolfe's final complete novel was subsequently released in the summer of 2020 to little fanfare. I myself nearly missed this one, and would have were I not utterly intrigued by his second to last book, A Borrowed Man. So, I set myself the task of rereading this right before tucking in to the sequel.

A Borrowed Man, by Gene Wolfe

I have reread this book a couple of times since it was published in 2015, and what strikes me the most about it is how accessible it is. It’s absurdly simple, as far as Gene Wolfe science fiction stories go: there’s been murders, and a piece of property that wishes it was still human or could ever be human is going to solve this murder if it has to take him to another planet and back again a couple of times to do so. But, yet again, this is a Gene Wolfe novel, and you are always told, at some point, that you can not ever take the story at face value.

With that said, it’s possible to find the world-building lacking because you are left wanting to explore that world: a few hundred years in the future, humanity exists in pockets and there’s been a cleansing of anyone deemed less healthy or fit for survival. So those clinging to the planet’s surface can feel like they deserve the energy and resources and technology at their disposal, including other, poorer, humans. 

If you are bewildered by the main character’s actions or motivations, it’s because you are ignoring the clues literally (ha!) handed out in the beginning of the book that explain why and how our Mr. Smithe will proceed as the plot thickens and then thins.

So what really did happen here? And why? Or how? Did I look in the right direction? Did I get lost in the misdirection? Did I want this to be a mystery, a thriller, a science fiction novel, or the weird chimera that this must have become at some careless turn of a page? 

Well, in my humble opinion, what Mr. Wolfe has accomplished with this book is an open and closed murder mystery in a bleak future not too far off from a present-day we have already imagined for ourselves. If it does many things right the number one thing this novel does is casually and masterfully show the reader how to do science fiction without having it spill all over itself. A Borrowed Man is fun, and quick-paced, with little to none of Wolfe’s typical verbose passages and digressions (instead, he seems to wink and steeple his fingers and allow you the reader to insist upon being granted wisdom from his words.) This is a fanboy's delight, and a 4.5/5.

In re-reading this, I was ready to immediately devour...

Interlibrary Loan, by Gene Wolfe

Oh, good. Mr. Wolfe left us with a mystery. This is a temporary review because it would be a mistake to read a Wolfe novel once and then assume you a) know how you feel about it, b) understood it, c) read it thoroughly. A lot of folks see these points as reasons to trash his works, but I’m a reader and I love reading and there’s few to no authors that wrote for readers. (Instead, I'd argue that most published authors write for themselves and for an audience programmed with expectations - which is, truly, a different thing altogether.) There are certainly no authors that approach Gene Wolfe.

This book is a science fiction magical realism supernatural murder mystery treasure hunt, and, possibly, a love story. What do I know? Nothing. Yet. It’s possible that Interlibrary Loan is Gene Wolfe exploring his own motivations and machinations as a writer. It’s possible everything in this book is misdirection and it’s all nonsense except for maybe what we’re told at the end. (And yes you can bet on that much: the final words of the novel are the key to the whole thing.) Did I love this book? No. Did I dislike this book? Certainly not.

What was this about, and what happened, or why, let alone when, I again couldn't say, but can definitely say that this book, unlike its predecessor, does not contain context for its sequence of events or the actions that occur therein. The reader will kindly note that there is much to be made of the fact that Smithe is a slave, and that there is likely something about his nature and the way he and his fellow clones are treated that unlocks a clue to the jarring and disjointed narrative we are given. 

So, for now, I’m going to advise that this is not a novel for someone who has never read Gene Wolfe or has issues with non-linear and unreliable narration. Interlibrary Loan is obviously intelligently written, but its purposes and allusions may baffle and inspire indignation more often than it hands the reader anything real or substantial. And that’s what I enjoyed about it. Just as it is what I enjoy about every Gene Wolfe book I've ever read and ever will read: there's hidden meaning, obscure messages, something sinister and something wonderful and maybe they are each one in the same. I look forward to reading Interlibrary Loan again and again so I can know for myself what it is I read, even if that’s not what I was reading. 4/5.

- Frank

Review: Network Effect by Martha Wells

Network Effect was number 4 on my top 5 most anticipated novels of 2020. And it did not disappoint! 

It's the story of one mixed-up sentient cyborg that doesn't know what it wants, but it does know it does not want to be touched. Network Effect is the first full-length novel starring Murderbot, the sentient former security cyborg that doesn't get to watch nearly enough too much television. Ms Wells has a fully-realized future setting here, full of evil corporations, capitalist slavery, bots and transport ships with artificial intelligence, technologically enhanced humans and technological humanoids, planet-hopping via wormholes, and academic contracts. And it is on full display. When an old friend/killer super-intelligence of a spaceship kidnaps its humans, can Murderbot figure out how to unravel the mystery of an ancient alien relic without having to bother doing anything it doesn't want to?

Network Effect is everything you could want from a science fiction novel: action and violence when necessary, jargon and technobabble that doesn’t read clunky or otherwise unnaturally, fully realized characters and an emotional story arc that remain prevalent without getting in the way of the plot. After having read those quick first 4 novellas, it was a thrill to sit down with a full length novel that didn’t once sacrifice any of that wit or charm or quick narrative pace I’ve come to love. Especially because Wells manages to use these with apparent delight to tell a thrilling tale of intrigue and terror in outer space. I highly recommended Network Effect to fans of the series, and I am nearly certain this novel is standalone (as I have not read the novellas more than once and spread out my reads over nearly two years) but I’ll confirm that at another time. Meanwhile, if you’re looking for a morosely humorous science fiction story that doesn’t try to reinvent the wheel while it takes you down a different path than you’re familiar with, look no further!

Oh! And because we don’t do this enough with science fiction novels anymore, here’s my favorite quote from this one:

“Because change is terrifying. Choices are terrifying. But having a thing in your head that kills you if you make a mistake is more terrifying.”

- Frank

More But I'd Rather Be Reading! here.

Review: The City We Became by N.K. Jemisin

New York City: Five boroughs with distinct personalities, histories, and offerings. It's the year Now, and Something threatens NYC. And it's always gentrification and the real estate/finance bros, the fuckin' white hetero patriarchy, but this Something is definitely using all of that like a wrecking ball swung right where it's gonna hurt you the most. It's up to the 5 newly-conscious avatars of the boroughs, 5 extraordinary if ordinary individuals that have the power to manifest as the finest attributes of their neighborhoods, to wake New York City up and fight off an extra-dimensional assault. But New York City is just being born, and its heroes may not be up to the task. Because NYC is five separate but equally important and different places, and they don't always play nice with one another. Can the boroughs manifest and come together as one in time to fight an unknowable apocalypse no one and nothing can prepare for?

This was number 3 of my top 5 most anticipated novels of 2020, and it did not disappoint. As a reader that loves to write, I firmly believe that when a writer writes what he/she/they thinks is cool that this will translate to the reader. That said, The City We Became is effing cool: it has grit and knows itself and is capable of observation and communication. N.K. Jemisin is one of my favorite authors because she knows how to tell an uncanny story like it's something that can happen anyway (also pronounced: speculative fiction), and she dazzles here with excellent characters and a Baddie that isn't just the cardboard cutout of Evil or else Chaos threatening the Pattern of Zelazny. Jemisin manages to succinctly guide us through a multiverse apocalypse tale's early rumblings without getting lost in pseudo-scientific/philosophical meandering. She penned a novel that is simultaneous love story to NYC (and yo, I'm born and raise Queens, so I know what she's about here) and superhero adventure. My only "complaint" about this book is that, despite its page count, it happens too fast and I'm not sure there was enough happening to warrant a reread. Which, heck, is cool, especially for those of us that dig sf that's quick, smart, and leaves us smiling, but The City We Became does feel too open-ended for a novel that's clearly capable of being standalone. Regardless, this one is definitely for fans of Jemisin, lite sci-fi, and adventure tales.

- Frank

More But I'd Rather Be Reading! here.

Finding: 5 Years Since Sir Terry Left to Avoid the Rush

It would be harder to believe it's been 5 years to the day Sir Terry Pratchett went without the Luggage if I hadn't spent the time consuming Discworld novels as though he has only just cooked them up.

And why do I read so much Pratchett? Because life is very frustrating, and life is full of stupid people and of awful things you can't avoid simply by Putting It Off And Leaving It To More Qualified Persons. Every day, something scary and unnecessary is happening that makes it more difficult for you, your loved ones, the hot dog vendors, and total strangers, to live life without hurting someone else. Yet Despite That, Pratchett Wrote An Entire Universe Into Existence that is brimming with magic and hope and a wry grin and a swing at how very normal it is that life is so unaccountably bad at Standing Up For What's Right. Pratchett told stories that weren't just escapes, were never mere scathing criticisms of the fallibility of humans, but adventures of passably-common folk with their own weird habits and talents, or stubbornness, that got swept up in their own current events and made a difference for the world around them and themselves because they Owed It To Circumstances To See The Thing Done.

Pratchett is important because he gave us stories of entire worlds, not unlike our own, that gently prod the reader on the noggin to Read And Consider.

He's irreplaceable, sure, but he gave us so much life and so many laughs and lessons that it would be wrong to say he can ever be gone. For most of us, Sir Terry was another stranger who Did A Thing For Money That We Didn't Do, but for all of us Sir Terry is a human being that shared himself and shared ourselves with everyone else.

He is missed every day, sure, but he is also missed by the people that looked to all that life he created as well as the worlds his creatures and characters inhabited. He is missed because he was a man who Made Death Something to Laugh At.

So on this, the fifth anniversary of the passing of Sir Terry Pratchett, I do not count the remaining Discworld novels I have yet to read. Instead, I remember how many Discworld novels I have to read, and that I can always find a new adventure or bit of wisdom or laugh waiting for me in the pages Pratchett left us all with. #SpeakHisName #GNUTerryPratchett - thank you, Pratchett. Truly.

- Frank

Review: Agyar by Steven Brust

As one can tell from (most of) the other posts on this blog, there is a big science fiction lover in this duo. It's not me, but I’ve recently begun to dip my toe in the fantasy pool. Living with a sci-fi/fantasy collector, it was inevitable that I might start poking around the shelves in the library or have a few choice novels gifted to me.

Agyar was a gift last Christmas, and I finally decided to pick it up just before a trip to Spain in October. I knew I would want to read on the plane, and since I tend to pack heavy, a smaller, lighter book seemed the best choice. Smaller book as it may be, I was not prepared for how much of a story was held in those 254 pages!

We’re aware from the get-go that our, well, antagonist, Jack Agyar, is a certified creep, but we’re not exactly sure of his motive. He preys on young, beautiful women with whom he leaves pale and sickly after lovemaking, and lives in an abandoned house whose only other inhabitant is a ghost. He’s also being set up to take the fall for a mysterious string of murders committed by a former lover. And all of this is told to the reader through a series of indirect, journal-like entries written on a “typing machine” Agyar found within the house he’s squatting.

Because the book never explicitly states the overall theme, I will remain mum on further details as well. This was my first Brust novel, and now I recognize firsthand why my partner adores the author so much. Even within a narrative centered on a seemingly dangerous fiend, there are grounding moments of contemporary social narrative and laugh-out-loud sarcastic observations:

“I’ve heard women, and, lately, some men, talk of women acting stupid to please men, but in fact, I think, that is not what they are doing; it is not a lack of wit or intellect that shallow men crave, it is lack of personality; they desire a woman who will exist only as a shadow to themselves, because this gives them the illusion that they have some importance, that they are more than cattle. Personality is what distinguishes us from each other, what makes each man an woman unique, and to submerge one’s personality is to make one’s self interchangeable, like a mass produced commodity…”

“…but we suddenly noticed that everyone else had left and the busboy, a college-age kid who’d gone to the Art Garfunkel school of hair fashion, was giving us significant looks.”

I highly recommend this book to anyone looking for a quick, thrilling read, and a great entry point into the rest of Steven Brust’s work.

- Chelsea

More But I'd Rather Be Reading! here.

Finding: The Epic Fantasy

I'm no stranger to the strange lands of epic fantasy. I was raised by Harry Potter when I was a boy, encouraged by Wheel of Time enthusiasts throughout, and stumbled upon The Shadow of the Torturer in my adolescence. In fact, so thoroughly have I immersed myself in as many epic fantasies as possible, there's hardly been an occasion that I haven't had a book larger than my head held in my hands. It was never the (often) gorgeous cover art that caught my attention, though! Oh no. Rather, it's always been the heft of these volumes, embossed by author names that proudly spanned the widths of the cover pages and surging as if tides or perhaps a breeze in tall ancient trees, that's drawn me to the promise of unlimited magic within. Time and again, I've found myself learning new magic systems, struggling to make sense of ornate cartographic wonders improbable and glorious, yelling at obvious plotting and ham-fisted dialogue or passages of exposition, amazed that I committed to volumes that could break digits, and afraid it will all end before there is any more.

And then I've thrown a few epic fantasy novels out of windows.

Yes, I have defenestrated more bricks of paper than I can say anyone should be proud of. I would like to avoid naming names, but that's kind of against my point here: it is difficult to find an epic fantasy novel worth the time and energy they consume. Sometimes, you wind up with Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time and you are so damned curious as to what he has in store that you begrudgingly pick up another copy of the first book to see if you can't talk yourself out of it all all over again. Other times, you've gone a hundred or more pages into one of Gene Wolfe's Sun novels and suddenly there's an altruistic character that is really a ghost or else, no, wait, that chapter ended three chapters ago without telling you what was happening and it happened while other stuff happened and this is you trying to make sense of it in your head before you get to the next stopping point. I would be remiss if I didn't mention the devilry that is a good epic fantasy novel that doubles as a caper that you couldn't possibly unravel on your own because that would spoil the whole ride! You're meant to keep your arms and legs in at all times, to really go with the story, if you're going to be able to enjoy the sheer nonsense of it all. You don't want to hit your head on whatever's on the path ahead of you or be grabbed at by whatever lurks just outside your peripherals.

There is always nonsense aplenty, be it ghouls that have no business meaning so unwell toward children, monstrous creatures that you are constantly drawing and redrawing in your head as the author describes the mayhem that is engulfing your heroes, or wizards that shouldn't have so much of a say as to the song your heart sings when the harp strings of it are plucked. Really, nothing in an epic fantasy novel is going to make any real sense if that book doesn't get out of your way and get behind you instead.

You could say I have a love-hate relationship with the genre. Often, it's drivel that has more upon approach than it does upon immersion (looking at you, Game of Thrones) or more adolescent male fantasy garble that doesn't know when not to take itself seriously (hi, The Sword of Truth.) And yet there's eloquence and genuine artistry where you least expect it (Mistborn, Broken Earth.) Before too late, you've discovered humor and wit (Vlad Taltos, Gentlemen Bastards) and honesty (Kingkiller, Bas-Laag) Why not poke about for alternate history that doesn't pretend the world is something else but imagines an entirely new world (Green Bone Saga)? Except maybe I'll wind up with something more in-between all of these like Earthsea or Stormlight Archives (which, really, is saying too little about these books and too much about what isn't really wrong with them.) I am forever revisiting this genre to capture the perfect escapist journey: the epic fantasy.

I will rate and recommend a few of those that I dig the most, if you'll permit me to say one irrefutable thing, readers. I do not hold with any novel that attempts to bludgeon its readers into submission with a thematic point that renders its story both arbitrary and silly. If an epic fantasy book has more to say about saying something than it does with allowing you to suspend disbelief long enough to learn something for yourself about your capacity to observe and empathize with the real world, then that novel has failed to be worth a damn!

I highly recommend:

• Brandon Sanderson's Cosmere (I was introduced to Mistborn and I've been devouring his incredible repertoire ever since.)
• Gene Wolfe's Book of the New Sun, Long Sun, Short Sun as well as his Latro novels (profound, puzzling, profoundly puzzling!)
• Patrick Rothfuss is doing wonderful things with his Kingkiller Chronicles (gorgeous)
• N.K. Jemisin's Broken Earth Trilogy (it's nothing you expect and so much more besides)
• Steven Brust's Vlad Taltos series (quick wit and very inventive that plays with genres for the fun of the story being told)
• Ursula Le Guin's Earthsea 
• Elizabeth Bear's The Lotus Kingdoms and Karen Memory

I've left off things I am unsure of my opinion on (Wheel of Time, Avalon, Harry Potter), but I stand by what I've said about authors not getting in the way of their own stories. I find and lose and find again these epic fantasies, and I intend to do so so long as I live. I hope you will too.

- Frank

Review: Ghost Wall by Sarah Moss

A novella is best defined as, or described to be, a short book. In my opinion, the best novellas don't read like long short stories or quick novels. Rather, the ones I find myself coming back to are written with such precision and enthusiasm that between the world building and the plot you find yourself forgetting each of those aren't themselves characters when suddenly it's over. A novella makes me want more, but I don't feel shortchanged when it's done right.

Sarah Moss's Ghost Wall is a novella that tells the bone-chilling tale of a teenage girl and her mother trapped on what can most poorly be described as the worst camping trip ever. You see, Silvie's dad has some very firmly held beliefs with regard to his wife and daughter's place, and less regard for them than his fascination with ancient Brits. Dark things happen in the woods, and Silvie may very well have to fight through these terrors if she hopes to come out of this family vacation alive.

I don’t know a better word to describe the crafting of this wonderful novella than “beautiful.” This horrifying and brief flurry of pages is brilliantly paced. Ghost Wall's every detail and moment drives towards inevitable violence with a precision and a tone each fully capable of sending chills down the spine of any psychological horror enthusiast (or casual reader!) The story asks several very exacting questions of its readers, but ultimately we are made to wonder: what is man’s violence and how willingly does it separate its victims (women & children) from time and place? This is a traumatic and carefully written piece of fiction that I know I’ll be revisiting more than once.

- Frank

More But I'd Rather Be Reading! here.