So after a rough few years, I'm finally back to reading for pleasure at my previous rate…
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The Book of the New Sun (
The Shadow of the Torturer,
The Claw of the Conciliator,
The Sword of the Lictor,
The Citadel of the Autarch) by Gene Wolfe
The elevator pitch: "In the distant future under a dying Sun, after human civilization has fallen and risen again many times over, a journeyman torturer/executioner travels the world to find out what it's all about."
After several false starts over the years, I finally settled down and powered through it. It's
dense, it's sometimes quite horrific, and it uses a lot of antiquated language to reflect how much civilization has changed over the eons. (It uses the same conceit as Tolkien's
The Lord of the Rings, in that the book is merely a translation of a found manuscript.) Humans were interstellar once, and might still be somewhere out there, but Urth (Earth) itself as it currently exists is isolated, maybe even blockaded. There are aliens, but they treat Urth like a cross between a plantation and a kindergarten.
I've seen it described as a Christ story, because so much of it is allegory and the protagonist goes through many trials to become the (potential) savior of Urth. I think that's not quite right. The actual Christ story is like that because it was told and retold among the early Christians as they sought deeper meaning in historical events. The tale grew in the telling, as they say, at least until some Greek scribes thought to write it all down.
This book, however, is the protagonist's own memoir of his journey, and he has an eidetic memory so the allegory is just a matter of him not understanding the things he encounters. Everything is fantastic (in the classical sense) because he has no frame of reference. History became legend, legend became myth. Aliens are gods and monsters, and technology is magic.
A reader with a proper understanding of the genre and its tropes — knowledge that the protagonist lacks, of course — can penetrate the allegory and deduce what actually happens. On the first read through, you share the protagonist's journey and discover things as he discovers them, but then on subsequent reads, it just becomes a game to spot all of the clues you missed before. So the more you read it, the
less meaning it has, and by the end, you and the protagonist are left wondering if Urth and its remaining humans are worth saving after all.
That seems like the opposite of the Christ story. Maybe that's the point. I dunno.
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Myth Adventures by Robert Lynn Asprin
The elevator pitch: "A naive-but-talented apprentice and a streetwise Demon (short for 'Dimensional Traveler') team up to become professional magicians. Hijinks ensue, fortunes are won, and friends are made."
Along with the Xanth series by Piers Anthony and the Discworld series by Terry Pratchett, this was one of the big, pun-filled parodies of the fantasy genre back in the day. The stories are short and silly, like old-school D&D sessions after the players have had a few joints and/or beers. (
Phil Foglio did
a comic adaptation. 'Nuf said.)
I first read them in high school, after getting the omnibus editions from the old Science Fiction Book Club (SFBC). I dug them out and read them again as a palate cleanser, after
The Book of the New Sun. The best I can say about them is that they served their purpose, but their nostalgia value is greater than their actual literary value. Ah well.
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The Commonwealth Saga (
Pandora's Star,
Judas Unchained) by Peter F. Hamilton
The elevator pitch: "In the late 24th century, the burgeoning Commonwealth of human-settled worlds faces its first real, existential threat from an alien enemy. Stuff happens, and then the story ends with a 300-page car chase across four of those worlds."
This is often hailed as either hard science fiction or a grand space opera, depending on who's doing the hailing. It's neither. It's a modern thriller with a veneer of "sci-fi". And when I say "modern", I mean that it's weirdly stuck in a 21st century globalist fantasy of what human civilization should be like, a la Francis Fukuyama and Klaus Schwab. Hundreds of billions of humans living on hundreds of different worlds scattered across hundreds of light years of space, hundreds of years in the future, and yet somehow everything everywhere is
exactly like the European Union at the start of this century, when the very British author wrote and published these books. Same culture, same class system, same car brands. (Yes, really.)
There are in-setting reasons given for this, but they don't make sense if you think about them at all, which is why I say it's a veneer of "sci-fi". The author did
not work through the second-order consequences of any of the concepts and technologies he introduces. They simply exist to allow the story to happen.
As a thriller, it's… fine. I'd even say it's a bonafide page-turner in certain parts. (Which is good, since you have almost 2000 pages to get through.) And there are two storylines that qualify as proper science fiction; I wish they'd been given more attention. But if anyone tells you this is the best science fiction since
Dune (or whatever), please smack that person for me.