Paper Girls 5

 
 
Paper Girls 5
by Brian Vaughan
art by Cliff Chiang

Image Comics

2018 

 

 
In the fifth volume of Paper Girls, the girls have arrived in the future, to the time where the Old Timers, the older generation in a temporal conflict with their own descendants, are operating from. There's only one volume left after this, and the shape of the time war has become a knot.
 
From the girls' perspective, which is the order the comics take place in, the girls started out in the 1980s, where the Old Timers, led by the Grand Father, showed up and took over their neighborhood in the Cleveland suburbs by putting everyone else in suspended animation and erasing their memories of the intrusion. The Grand Father seems to be very long-lived; he still speaks contemporary English, while everyone below him speaks a dialect that has diverged so far it borders on gibberish. We didn't know the reason for this, but it seemed the Old Timers did it to capture a few far-future teens, who speak a language so different it's represented with alien script; they can only be understood with the help of translator machines. They also met a silent alien, a green sphere with many eyestalks that seemed to watch them.
 
Then the girls were accidentally transported to the 2010s. They met Erin's middle-aged self, and learned that she had no memory of time traveling as a teen ... and that Mac died of leukemia while she was still in high school. They found a message carved on KJ's field hockey stick that helped them navigate the invisible time portals around the city. They met another far-future teen, a clone of Erin, who accidentally brought some giant tardigrades with her. The tardigrades started wrecking up downtown, and the Old Timers showed up again en masse and middle-aged Erin risked her life (maybe even died) to help the girls escape through a time portal.
 
That portal led the girls all the way back to the Stone Age. They met the first time traveler, born in the 2010s, who was shocked to already find evidence of other time trips on her maiden voyage. They also met a cavegirl their own age, Wadi, and agreed to help her rescue her son Japoh from the three cavemen who took him. Tiffany carved the message they saw earlier into the field hockey stick, and stuck it through a fold in time for her past self to find. KJ encountered the spherical green alien again and touched it; she got fragmentary visions of future events, including her and Mac kissing. The girls helped with the rescue, but then time traveled again by accident.
 
This time they arrived on New Year's Day in the year 2000. Giant robots piloted by the Old Timers and the far-future teens were fighting openly in Cleveland, although they were invisible to almost everyone except time travelers. The girls met Tiffany's post-college self. She's a goth! The far-future mechas were clearly superior to the ones piloted by the Old Timers. The newly appointed Grand Father, a relatively young man was piloting one; a bad hit killed his girlfriend, who used her dying words to beg him to abide by their principles of preserving history, rather than using time travel to save her. He tearfully agreed, and managed to kill the other mech pilot. For safety amidst the ongoing battle, the girls and college-age Tiffany clambered up into the broken mecha shell. The young Grand Father saw them and assumed they were the ones who killed his girlfriend, and then the mech sent itself forward in time.
 
Now the girls arrive in a future Cleveland, a time when everyone talks in the near-unintelligible dialect of the other Old Timers we've met so far, and the Grand Father is the old man we first saw him as. He has the green alien in his office! We also learn something I maybe should've noticed sooner - the Grand Father is Japoh, the baby born in the Stone Age, who the girls helped to reunite with his mother. I'll talk more about what the girls get up to in the future in a moment, but first, let's review events from the Old Timers' perspective.
 
The lab that invented time travel rescued the stranded first time traveler. She brought back the cavepeople Wadi and Japoh, claiming they were her children. The Old Timer faction formed, and eventually Japoh was made its leader. Among his fights with the future teens, his girlfriend died, and he thought the paper girls were responsible. When the killer mecha finally reappeared, after years of waiting, he thought he had a chance for revenge. At the same time, reports came in of the tardigrades in the 2010s. The Grand Father decided to launch the all-out offensive we saw earlier (which his staff viewed as a major over-reaction), and then to intercept the girls in the 1980s.
 
The Old Timers say their goal is to preserve the first draft of history, as unchanged by time travel as possible, but what does that even mean here? Japoh doesn't know it, but he was only brought to the future to become a leader because the girls saved him as an infant. They were only in the Stone Age to save him because he invaded their neighborhood, which he did in response to events the girls got entangled in after they got lost in time during the invasion. Plus he only thinks he's mad at them because of mistaken identity! Cause and effect aren't just reversed here, they're completely intertwined and entangled. There doesn't seem to be any pre-intervention state! Every major event in this sequence has a cause happened after its effect, and that, in turn, could only have happened because the effect came first.
 
In the future Cleveland, KJ tries to talk to Mac about her vision of them kissing, but Mac doesn't want to hear it. KJ has been coming to accept that she might be a lesbian, while Mac seems more homophobic than ever. The two go to find a doctor, while Erin and the two Tiffanys go look for Wadi, who is an old woman despite whatever anti-aging drugs she and Japoh have been taking. The good news for Mac is that the future has a cure for leukemia; the bad news is that she doesn't really have it, she has a rare disease caused by time travel. The doctor tries to turn Mac over to the Old Timers, but KJ beats the guy up and rescues her friend. After briefly thinking she could change something, Mac accepts that she'll die, accepts that KJ's visions will come true, and kisses her, surprising them both. 
 
Wadi agrees to help the girls sneak past her son and get back to the 1980s. They get joined en route to the departure point by the future-teen clone of Erin. Once again, they're cornered and only make it out because someone sacrifices their life; this time it's college-age Tiffany. The girls are paying a terrible price for getting caught up in this mess. Mac is going to die of time travel sickness in high school, Tiffany will be killed in her mid-20s, Erin will die in her early 40s. 
 
There's one volume left, and I fear KJ win't make it out alive either. What started as a mystery and then maybe a fun adventure (even if they weren't in control of how they were time traveling) has become the reason three of the four will die young, seemingly with nothing gained, nothing to show for it. Future Erin and future Tiffany have already revealed they won't even remember all this afterward! I don't know if the last volume will salvage anything positive, or if it's going to be a total downer, but I guess I'll find out soon.

The Sword of the Lictor

 
 
The Sword of the Lictor
by Gene Wolfe

Orb

1982, reprinted 1994
 

 
The Sword of the Lictor is the third book in Gene Wolfe's quartet, The Book of the New Sun. It's the most episodic of the books so far, basically a picaresque, as Severian leaves the city of Thrax and journeys north through the mountains until he arrives at a very high lake nestled among them, meeting potential allies and enemies all along the way. Based on Wolfe's description, I think these are the Andes mountains and Lake Titicaca of the far future. Over the course of the journey, Severian both literally and metaphorically leaves behind his career as a torturer and executioner, and starts to become something like a hero (though still without becoming someone I would call a good person). In the first book, Severian told us that this entire tale is being narrated in retrospect from a time when he has become the Autarch, and at this point it's still basically unimaginable how that might happen.
 
If there is a theme to Severian's journey in this book, beyond his transformation from villain to savior, it seems to be a kind of uncanny doubling. He interacts with nearly every major character he's met so far, or else with someone like them. He also becomes increasingly convinced of the power of the gemstone he found in the first book, the Claw of the Conciliator, and loyal to that power. The description of the Conciliator makes him sound like a Christ-like figure, which I suppose makes Severian something like a convert to Christianity, someone like St Paul who received divine revelation on a long journey.
 
At the start of the book, Dorcas says explicitly what was already clear to me from the original scene, that the Claw brought her back from the dead after her body had been preserved in a lake for a generation or two. She can no longer bear to stay with Sevarian now that he is the chief executioner in Thrax, and leaves to return to Nessus. Severian can't really bear to stay in this job either. He gets invited to a party thrown by the Archon of Thrax where he's expected to strangle a noblewoman to death; instead, as he did with Thecla, he has sex with her and then helps her escape her sentence. He is once again disgraced by his act of mercy, and is once again forced to flee to the north.
 
In the mountains, he stays the night with a family of farmers. Here he encounters the alzaebo, alive this time. In the second book, Severian drank a potion made from the alzaebo's brain and ate some of Thecla's, and it was this that put a copy of her mind inside his. The living alzaebo uses its abilities to hunt, imitating the voices of those it's eaten to draw out their living relatives in a way that's genuinely creepy. Severian fights off the alzebo but the only survivor is their young son, also named Severian, who is the same age our Severian was when he was orphaned and given to the torturer's guild. At the same time that he meets the alzaebo, Severian meets Agia again, and she again tries to kill him (I have no doubt she'll show up to make onee last attempt in the final book). She explains something that definitely wasn't clear to me earlier, which is that a particular recurring character I'd barely attended to is loyal to her as has been responsible to siccing the various alien monsters that ambushed Severian in the previous book on him.
 
After failing to save the rest of the family, Severian takes the orphaned boy on his trip through the mountains. He reads to him from the book of allegorical stories about the future history of the world. The neo-medieval character of the far future world Wolfe has written seems to be supported by the lack of any forms of mass transit, mass communication, or mass education, and by the dictatorial power structure that prevails at every level. People are trapped wherever they're born, assigned to be a farmer or guild member or soldier or noble, stuck with the personalist rule of whoever's in charge of their village or city, unable to learn much about any other way of living.
 
The little boy dies in the mountains, killed by traps left by a previous autarch, a man powerful enough to command an entire mountain be carved in his likeness. If the boy was like Severian's doppelganger, then he fails to save himself. The old autarch awakes from cryosleep with plans to reconquer and resubjugate the world, and Severian kills him, prefiguring on a smaller scale how he will have to defeat the current Autarch to take over the role. 
 
Severian also fights and kills his former friend, Balderdans the giant, another small-scale prefiguration of what I think is his fate to kill the alien giant Aiba, who lives in the ocean and grows large as a continent and plans to break the whole world. We'd heard repeatedly that Balderdans and Doctor Talos lived in a house in the north. Well, Severian finds it, and calling it a 'house' really undersold its size, or the way Balderdans rules all the villages around the lake. Nearly everything we initially thought we knew about the giant and the doctor has proven false or misleading by this point. 
 
Severian's executioner's sword is broken in the fight, completing his separation from his old life, and his two symbolic victories - against a lesser Autarch and a lesser Aiba - now set him up to complete the real versions of each task. I find Wolfe's plotting strange, but what initially appears to be an almost random sequence of events across this book looks by the end to be a map in miniature, a fractal part that repeats the pattern of the whole, including both what's come before and what has yet to come.
 
The other thing we've kept hearing is in the north is a war, between the country ruled by the Autarch, and a people called the Ascians, who we know nothing about. Severian plans to continue north and join the war in the next book, so I suppose we'll see.

Stages of Rot

 
 
Stages of Rot
by Linnea Sterte
Peow

2017, reprinted 2023
 
 
Stages of Rot is a deeply enigmatic comic that depicts the decomposition of a dead whale, not at the bottom of one of Earth's oceans, but on an alien world where all manner of sea life fly through the air instead, the undersea biome coexisting with and layered on top of the surface. And because the whalefall is on the surface, humans are now one of the scavengers that feasts on the giant carcass. 
 
Artist Linnea Sterte divides the process into chapters based on which human group is present and what they're doing, but we're only one small part of the process. Sterte shows us the fish, the fungus, the macroscopic single-celled organisms that arrive to play their own roles. You get a sense that you're seeing a series of close-ups on a larger picture, a whole functioning ecology that remains mostly out of focus and even out of sight. 
 
Successfully communicating that feeling, of watching one step in the functioning of a larger machine, without ever zooming out to show the whole, is no simple task, I suspect. Done incorrectly, and I think it would seem too simple, or else like chaos, with no sense that it's guided by an invisible order. Keeping you, as the reader, with that tip-of-your-tongue feeling in your mouth the whole time, without ever telling you the word or making you feel like you simply don't know it, is kind of an incredible accomplishment. Scavengers' Reign was rightly hailed for doing something similar, and it had the benefit of animation, being able to show its processes in motion.
 
We watch as the flesh-eaters come to collect blood and meat, and to slay the 'pilot' who we're told is a human-looking homunculus who lives in the whales heart and guides its flight. Fungus begins to cover the whale and form the heart of a forest. 
 
The bone-cutters arrive to collect their materials. One carves a diatom, which we're told live in the upper atmosphere where humans rarely see them, so that perhaps the statue represents a memory in the bone as much as in the mind of the carver. 
 
The barbarians are next; called to the whalefall by a vision or dream. For them the journey into the whale represents something hard to define, perhaps the passage into adulthood, though I might be wrong. The forest expands ever outward. 
 
The last humans to arrive, the entomologists, collect specimens of every kind of life that visits or emerges from the fallen whale. They catalog it all and fill a museum. They even resurrect the pilot, who lives in the museum for awhile, before flying away, to the highest part of the sky, to join with another living whale. The cycle is complete and begins again.
 
Sterte uses a limited color palette to give each chapter its own feeling, distinct from the others. The flesh-eaters and barbarians both have more pink and red, the bone-cutters and entomologists more yellow and green. The alternation feels like a cycle, like the turning of seasons, and feeds back into the sense of hidden order propelling the book. This is not an especially long comic, and it has very little dialogue, but it's very effective at communicating the mystery of the way bodies are reclaimed by the world after death. 

Paper Girls 4

 
 
Paper Girls 4

by Brian Vaughan
art by Cliff Chiang

Image Comics
2018
 
  

In volume 4 of Paper Girls, I think we finally start getting some clear information about what's been happening across the previous volumes, thanks to a helpful true believer who tries to indoctrinate the girls to her side. The new info helps make sense of what we've seen up to this point. Til now, we've mostly been along for the ride as the girls were menaced by a baffling conflict going on around them. We still are, really, but at least we're starting to understand the conflict!

 

In the first volume, the girls' suburban Cleveland neighborhood was invaded by strangeness the morning after Halloween in 1988. We saw that the two factions were mutated teenagers dressed like ninjas or burglars, and an army of knights riding pterodactyls. The future teens language is incomprehensible without a translator; the knights speak a barely intelligible version of English that reads like online forum slang. The knights are led by an old man who sounds perfectly contemporary and can barely understand his own troops.

 

We now know this is the War of the Ages, fought between the Old Timers, who want to avoid making any consequential changes to history, and their own descendants, who want to use time travel to change things. The linguistic drift we see suggests how long a span of future history we're dealing with here. The Old Timers have robots that can repair property damage, and to keep people from witnessing anything, they teleport them into stasis pods and use amnesia rays to erase anything out of place. They want to fight the teens whenever they show up, and use their tech to keep the fight itself from being recorded or remembered. We're told that the teens want to change history for the better, although we've mostly seen them stealing, perhaps supplies or maybe just souvenirs.

 

The girls time traveled by accident and arrived in 2016 in volume two. They met Erin's adult-self and also a future-teen who was a clone of Erin. Mac learned she has as-yet undiagnosed cancer and only a few years to live. The future clone accidentally brought tardigrades with her, and even more accidentally, they arrived as giants that began destroying downtown Cleveland. That brought in the Old Timers, flying a giant airship like a cathedral. 

 

The girls got sent through time again, appearing in the Stone Age in volume 3. They met a cavegirl their own age (who they could speak to using one of the translators) and the woman who invented time travel, on the very first trip. Unfortunately, the past was already littered with future junk when she arrived. Based on the two factions' philosophies, I'd guess the abandoned tech was left behind by the future teens. Touching an anomaly gave KJ a brief, kaleidoscopic vision of events from her own future, including kissing Mac. KJ was surprised and shaken by the vision. The scientist was killed by a caveman, but the girls used her time machine to escape.

 

Now in volume 4, they arrive back home, but on New Years Eve in the year 1999. In the comic, the Y2K bug caused mass power outages and other infrastructure shut-downs. Also, giant robots are fighting in the Cleveland suburbs, but only Tiffany can see them! Half the robots are being piloted by future teens, and half by the Old Timers. The leader, who we've always seen as an old man, is still young here, and the pterodactyl breeding program isn't finished yet. From his perspective, this battle happens early in his career. For the teens who met the girls in volume 1, I think this fight is immediately before that meeting; they retreat backward in time when their mecha is damaged.

 

The girls meet an elderly cartoonist who lives in their neighborhood. She met the future teens when she was a kid, and she's become a fanatical believer in their perspective on the war. They also meet Tiffany's college-age self. She grows up to be a goth! With a White boyfriend! The girls get into the damaged, abandoned mecha and it takes them further into the future, where the leader of the Old Timers is waiting. That particular mecha killed his copilot (who begged him, with her dying words, to hold fast to their principles and not overwrite her death), and he wants revenge. Hopefully he'll learn that it has a new pilot before he destroys it!

 

 

You'll want to break out the decoder ring for this one, because the future teens have kind of a lot of dialogue. It's depicted using a substitution code, with strange symbols replacing familiar letters. It takes a bit of time and effort matching the symbols to figure out what they're saying. The effect is interesting. Each symbol is complicated, looking more like a Chinese ideogram than an English letter. So the future teens' speech bubbles look like they're saying a lot. Somehow when I look at the symbols, the way it's written makes what they're saying look technical and complex, or maybe angry and warlike. Then I translate it and I see they mostly speak in short words and simple sentences, and most of what they're saying is just simple expressions of surprise or dismay. There's dramatic irony in the contrast.

 

Things are pretty tangled at this point, especially with the revelation that the order that we (and the girls) are seeing events in doesn't match the order the factions perceive them, and that the factions also have different timelines of events from each other. Time travel plots are frequently confusing, and this one has more interweaving than most.

Gnomon

 
 
Gnomon

by Nick Harkaway

Knopf

2018

 

  

Gnomon is a very literary scifi mystery novel set in a dystopian near-future Britain. We follow Inspector Neith as she tries to determine responsibility for a death in custody of an elderly privacy advocate. Was she simply too old, stubborn, and frail? Or were her interrogators at fault for pushing her too hard, beyond what anyone could endure? To find the answer, Neith downloads a recording of victim's thoughts during the session - but instead of just one woman's memories, she finds four other people's stories too. Is it possible they could be true, or are they just a trick the woman used to avoid revealing herself? 

 

The System is a surveillance state that styles itself as a perfect democracy. Everyone is being watched all the time, not only by ubiquitous cameras and their own smart phones, but by their whole internet of things, fridges that know what they eat, washing machines that monitor alcohol intake and run pregnancy tests. But only the machine sees any of this, unless it flags something for human review, which will be conducted by a member of the Witness, like Inspector Neith. 

 

Everything is decided by direct democracy - sometimes by a jury-like subset, and sometimes by a plebiscite of the entire public. The machine decides who will vote, tallies the totals, and enacts the results. The machine, we are told, is perfectly fair and impartial, seeing everything and treating everyone the same, without the possibility of discrimination or corruption. (Though later we are asked to contemplate what it would mean if some people got preferential treatment, or if the electorate for some votes were chosen to ensure the result.)

 

Sometimes the System marks someone as suspicious and requires them to submit to questioning. If human Witness agents can resolve the suspicions, they will. But if the suspect refuses or seems dishonest, the machine can quite literally read their mind. The death Neith is investigating was someone who died while her thoughts were being recorded; in addition to traditional modes of investigation, Neith plays the transcript, meaning she experiences everything the dead woman thought from the moment they hooked her to the machine until she died. The substories framed by this main plot are narratives the woman was thinking at her interrogators, tales she was telling to avoid revealing herself, and perhaps to communicate another hidden message.

 

The title of Gnomon refers to a tool for drawing right angles, or a thing that is perpendicular to its surroundings, like the upright hand of a sundial, or it could refer to one who knows. The gnomon will recur in one form or another in each of the substories, and that's really just the start. There are a host of recurring images that repeat across the tales and accumulate new meanings and significances as they reappear, including five-factor authentication and the idea of a truth that can only be understood by superimposing multiple allegorical reflections, which doubles as advice for how to understand this book as a whole. There are frequent incidents of metalepsis, when events in one level of the story seem to affect another, and the kind of 'rhymes' Fritz Lang often used as scene transitions, like when one story ends with a character being kidnapped with a sack over his head, and the next starts with a different character being kidnapped the same way.

 

The structure of the book is a much-extended version of a traditional detective story, and that familiar formula helps you avoid getting lost along the way, which is important, because the substories are probably collectively longer than the frame story, and certainly they're long enough individually that you could lose track of where you are within the whole. Cloud Atlas famously used recurring themes and images across several stories that spanned over time and place, but in Gnomon, the substories are much more explicitly linked together. Remember that each of these stories supposedly has the same teller - the woman being interrogated by a machine that records her thoughts - even though there are multiple narrators, each so fully realized that they feel like an authentic person in their own right.

 

There's Constantine, a Greek math genius who became an investment banker. We join him as be has a life-changing encounter with a shark, which sends him on a stock-trading hot-streak, turning his life into a bacchanal while he ascends to multi-billionaire wealth. There's Athenais, an alchemist from Carthage and the former lover of St Augustine, who's asked to investigate an impossible murder and realizes she has a chance to make the mythical Alkahest. There's Berihun, a retired Ethiopian painter living in London who gets inspired to paint again by his genius granddaughter, who's making a video game about mass surveillance. Both Constantine and Athenais are mourning a dead loved one, and are offered a supernatural opportunity to be reunited. Constantine and Berihune's stories take place at the same time, starting before the Brexit vote and continuing a few years after. And then there's Gnomon, an artificial intelligence from the far future who has supposedly traveled back in time and occupied a human body on a mission to kill the other characters.

 

While Neith starts out convinced that these stories are nothing but a distraction, of course, I as a reader want them to be more than that. Granted, the whole novel is a work of fiction, actually entirely written by Nick Harkaway - but within that larger fiction, the stories are sub-fictions or hypo-fictions, they are presented as bring fictional even within the 'real' world of the larger fiction, and so I found myself questioning how 'true' they were supposed to be. I spent a fair bit of time considering that Gnomon the narrator might genuinely be a consciousness from the future. I do think that one of the narratives originally came someone else who was interrogated by the System, understanding how that story got inside this suspect's head is one of the many, many revelations you learn along the way.

 

I think of success of Gnomon the novel depends on the substories; if they were just a distraction, if they were merely well-told tales that are fun to read, then the book as a would be less successful than if they are (within the larger fiction of the novel) in some sense 'true'. Within these stories is hidden an account of how the System came to be, the story of someone who was horribly mistreated by it, and an account of why the woman being interrogated came to be arrested. Some of it is lightly fictionalized, some very allegorical, some extremely literal, and all of it told in such a way that the meaning and significance of what you've learned is revealed only after you've learned it, so the truth of each story propagates backward in time, changing the meaning of the stories in your memory as you think back over them. I think Harkaway was very successful here, in a way that's clearer now as I write this than it was when I first closed the book.

 

Lest you be worried, Harkaway did not cast Inspector Neith as a true believer in the perfection of the System, only to have her finish the case convinced she's right, that distributed democracy can't be manipulated, that total surveillance is good, that privacy and secrecy are inherently unacceptable, and that having certain knowledge of what people have done means the accused deserve no rights. But giving the System a robust intellectual defense and a defender whose own conduct is above reproach makes the later turn against it more satisfying. It takes no special insight to oppose a society that's obviously capricious and unfair. Like any good detective story, Neith's own tale will see her finding flaws with the side she serves and seeking to correct them, a quest that will put her into alliance with the interrogated woman and opposed to the System that interrogated her to death.

Arca

 
Arca

by Van Jensen

art by Jesse Lonergan

IDW

2023 

 

 

A few years ago, I read an article someone who attended a conference for billionaires who wanted to strategize how to survive the apocalypse in luxury and comfort. Obviously they'd want a well-furnished compound and a retinue of personal servants; equally obviously they'd want a cadre of well-armed thugs to defend the lair from outsiders and force the servants to work. But how to ensure the loyalty of the private army when there's no way to pay them anything of value? Is it better to use Suicide Squad bomb implants, or addiction to Ketracel White? I kept thinking about this article while I was reading Arca.
 
The city in a bottle is a classic kind of dystopia, the bad place you can't escape because you can't go outside, or because there's nowhere else to go. I would place Arca alongside a few other recent examples, like the Silo and Fallout tv series. Arca is a scifi graphic novel by Van Jensen and Jesse Lonergan, set on a spaceship fleeing the ruined Earth for a distant planet Eden. The wealthy citizens are protected by the crew and served by the young settlers, who get to retire from servitude once they become adults. This retirement is totally comfortable, it just takes place on a different part of the ship where they're never seen or heard from again. But they'll be vital to the colonization process once the ship reaches Eden, in just a few years more.
 
In any city in a bottle story, you know that the populace is being lied to, and thus that you the reader are being lied to. The pleasure of surprise and discovery in these stories comes from learning the truth, and especially from learning you were being lied to even more than you thought you were. Lonergan's visuals build dramatic irony from the start, pairing Jensen's anodyne descriptions of the harmonious society aboard Arca with images of citizens who look instantly suspicious and untrustworthy, settlers who seem oblivious and naive. Arca as a whole is incredibly successful at showing us Arca's mythology, how it really works, and what it would be like to have to live in it.
 
Our viewpoint character is Effie, a settler on the cusp of adulthood and retirement, whose curiosity is certain to get her in trouble. Like Frederick Douglass, Effie is empowered by her ability to read, and thus her ability to understand the citizens and the system they've built much better than they expect her to. Effie seeks out the truth, and finds it, and does indeed get in quite a lot of trouble. I don't know if Jensen read the same article I did, but he seems to share the same assessment of our current billionaires' motivations and goals.

Ancillary Mercy

 
 
Ancillary Mercy

by Ann Leckie

Orbit

2015

 

 

Ancillary Mercy is the final book in Ann Leckie's trilogy following the last surviving segment of an imperial warship's computer mind, now confined in a single cybernetic body. For 20 years, Breq has been living in a single human body, mourning the loss of the rest of herself (both her ship-self and the dozens of other networked bodies that collectively made up her electronic brain), and planning revenge on Anaander Mianaai, the emperor of the Radchaai Empire. 

 

Mianaai is also distributed across countless bodies (clones, in her case). She has ruled the Radch for 3000 years, and for the past 1000 she's been in an unacknowledged cold war with herself after wiping out an entire star system - revenge for them resisting annexation into the Radch using weapons supplied by the alien Presger. After the massacre, Mianaai signed a treaty with the Presger and began reforming the Radch, eventually including no annexing new star systems into the empire, and no longer making ancillaries (the cybernetic bodies, like Breq, made from recently annexed civilians). But part of her never wanted to admit the massacre was wrong, and has been covertly scheming to force a return to unapologetic colonialism and chauvinism ever since.

 

We learned this, in flashback, in Ancillary Justice, as Breq remembered being the warship Justice of Toren, who was overseeing the last annexation, where the ultra conservative part of emperor Mianaai was secretly trying to stir up ethnic conflict as an excuse to start a mass killing of civilians. One of Justice of Toren's officers refused to go along and was summarily executed, Justice of Toren was heartbroken, and that part of Mianaai triggered the destruction of the warship, with the segment-body that eventually became Breq as the only survivor. In the book's present, Breq hunted down the only remaining alien weapon capable of killing Mianaai, the Presger gun, and took responsibility for a former officer, who'd been cryogenically frozen since the planetary massacre, and who, since being awoken 1000 years after her time, had become depressed and addicted to space drugs.

 

Breq managed to kill at least one segment of Mianaai, and more important, forced all of the emperor to realize that she was no longer one coherent mind spread across her many bodies, triggering open civil war. In Ancillary Sword, a reformist segment of Mianaai made Breq a fleet captain, gave her a ship and crew, and sent her to take control of a star system, including the inhabited planet, the space station orbiting the planet, and a couple warships with unknown loyalties. Breq agreed mostly because her favorite officer, the one who was executed for refusing to fire on civilians, that officer's sister worked on the station. 

 

Once she arrived, Breq found a situation similar to the one at the time her ship-body was destroyed - the station was ethnically divided, and someone was cynically trying to stir up violence against the minority for their own benefit. This time the person orchestrating events was merely a wealthy private citizen, not the emperor of known space, so this Breq was able to out-maneuver her, expose the manipulation, and use her authority as fleet captain to impose fairer conditions for the minority group. It's like a more successful replay of the events that led to Justice of Toren's destruction. Unfortunately, during the chaos, a Translator, a human raised by the alien Presger to act as a diplomat, was killed in what was essentially a police shooting, when she was mistaken for a member of the minority group violating curfew.

 

Now in Ancillary Mercy, Breq fears the star system will be attacked by the conservative part of Mianaai, and also that the Presger, who are vastly technologically superior to the Radchaai empire, will retaliate for the killing of their Translator. Very early on in the book, the Presger send a new Translator, and station security arrests an infiltrator - an ancillary from a 3000 year-old star ship that survived the war that led to Anaander Mianaai becoming emperor, that's been hiding out in a neighboring star system ever since. Because the ship is still intact, even if out of communication range, this segment has basically the same mind as the whole, as Breq did when she was just one segment of Justice of Toren. This segment, like its ship, wants to kill Mianaai, and has come to see if Breq might be a potential ally.

 

In the previous book, I really liked Translator Dilique, and missed her after she died. Translator Zeiat is a little more business-like, although she's so psychologically different from human humans that she still seems comedic. We get some cryptic, but still fascinating, hints about how the alien Presger think. They fundamentally can't understand any distiction between different types of humans, between the Radch and non-Radchaai, for example. When Breq is injured and her leg is amputated partway through the book, Zeiat thinks she's now a completely new person who happens to slightly resemble the precious fleet captain. Even 'Dilique' and 'Zeiat' seem like they might be roles instead of names, like if an interrogator introduced themselves as 'Officer Goodcop' - although that's just my interpretation, and it might be wrong.

 

Anyway, as expected, the most conservative part of Mianaai arrives and takes over the station (which, as emperor, no one can refuse her), with the goal of killing Breq, destroying her new ship, and either fully conquering or destroying the station. Breq wants to protect the station and its people, which takes priority over revenge. Fortunately, because of the ongoing civil war, the emperor isn't nearly as laden with resources as she could be - she comes with only a single body, a handful of ships, and no guarantees that reinforcements might arrive before the reform faction does. Plus, Breq still has the Presger gun, which can not only pierce Mianaai's armor, it can destroy Radchaai space ships ... if you can hit one, which isn't easy, because it's a hand gun, and they're, you know, space ships.

 

Breq has the gun, and her pair of strange new potential allies, but her greatest asset is the earned loyalty of almost everyone living on the space station thanks to her actions during the crisis in the previous book. Meanwhile Mianaai shows up angry and paranoid, accidentally damages the station and kills a transport shuttle full of civilians by crashing into them upon arrival, immediately demands the total obedience of everyone on the station, including the station's computer mind, and restricts all the civil liberties and elements of self-government that Breq had been granting. There's no grand violent conclusion, and little about the wider civil war is resolved, but Breq does manage to protect the people counting on her (and they, collectively, protect her) in what feels like a local victory for equality and democracy over hierarchy and authority. 

 

In Ancillary Justice, and to a lesser extent in Sword, the Radchaai's absence of a concept of gender and universal 'she' pronoun for all humans was something Breq had reason to talk about several times, especially when she interacted with gendered non-Radchaai humans. But in Mercy, it fades into the background. Everyone is still she, but the book never draws attention to it or comments on it.

 

Outside this trilogy, Leckie has written a few more books set in Radchaai space, and her success in telling this story has me curious to see more.  Structurally, it seems like these books might be similar to Iain Banks's Culture novels, where they share a broad setting, but don't necessarily have recurring characters or locations, and where we view the society from many angles and perspectives across the books, mostly from the edges where it touches outsiders.

Paper Girls 3

 
Paper Girls 3

by Brian Vaughan

art by Cliff Chiang

Image Comics

2017 
 
 
In the third volume of Brian Vaughan and Cliff Chiang's Paper Girls comic, the girls find themselves 10,000 years in the past, where they meet a cavegirl their own age, and the first person to ever travel through time, a woman scientist born in the 2010s. 
 
Much to the scientist's horror, her maiden voyage is to a past already despoiled by travelers from further in the future. Not only are teen girls from the 1980s already there when she first arrives, but a trio of menacing cavemen (collectively, the fathers of the cavegirl's infant child) are wearing space helmets and are using the Playstation controller button symbols to decorate themselves.

In Paper Girls volume 1, we first met the girls as they met up in their Cleveland suburb to ride their paper routes together, the morning after Halloween in the late 1980s. New kid Erin was introduced to KJ, Tiffany, and tough-girl Mac, who's kind of the group leader. Weird things started happening! Everyone else was frozen in place, and then started disappearing, with only the paper girls unaffected. White knights riding pterodactyls patrolled the skies, and a small gang of black-clad teenagers from the far future ran around looking for things to steal. When the teens' time machine exploded, the paper girls were accidentally sent to the 2010s.
 
Luckily, in volume 2, the first person they met was a middle-aged Erin, who took them in until they could figure out what's going on. Another future teen, this one a clone of Erin arrived, and accidentally brought some giant tardigrades through time with her. The tardigrades started wrecking up downtown Cleveland, which caught the attention of the time traveling pterodactyl knights. The knights are led by an old hippie who operates out of a giant airship cathedral. 
 
Dramatic as they look, they seem to be trying to prevent changes to history. The heavy-handed tactic of putting every potential witness into some kind of temporary stasis seems to be in service of that goal. We don't know why the girls aren't affected, about Erin's clone suggested the reason she is a clone is so she could piggyback off of whatever's protecting Erin. While the airship and flying knights fought a city-destroying tardigrade, the girls fell through a hole in time created by all the disturbances.
 
Now in volume 3, we don't see either of the warring factions at all, we just see hints of how much they've time traveled based on the apparent changes to the prehistoric past. The girls get separated, with Erin and Tiffany meeting the cavegirl and then the time traveling scientist. KJ and Mac encounter a strange creature that looks like an inverted pyramid with tentacles. KJ touches it, and sees visions of her future, including her and Mac kissing, which troubles her, because she didn't realize she likes girls, and Mac is vocally homophobic. (Mac is also dying - in the 2010s she learned she has leukemia and only a couple years to live. She's trying to act tougher than usual to cover her fear.) 
 
KJ is slightly able to play off her sudden awkwardness as being caused by getting her first ever period while trapped in the Stone Age, although Mac, who's never had any sex ed because her Catholic family disapproves, is super curious. They manage to reunite with the others, agree to protect the cavegirl from the trio of cavemen, and agree to help the scientist get back to her time machine, which Mac and KJ saw earlier. Things don't go as planned! In the end, the time machine leaves on autopilot without the scientist, and the paper girls get caught up in it's wake and transported somewhere new.

The Rider, the Ride, the Rich Man's Wife

 
The Rider, the Ride, the Rich Man's Wife

by Premee Mohamed

PS Publishing

2024

 

 
The Rider, the Ride, the Rich Man's Wife is a novella that blends science fiction and horror to tell a new version of a classic tale about human sacrifice meant to bring good weather. But unlike in "The Lottery", for example, there is a true supernatural threat here, not solely the indifference and cruelty of one's mortal neighbors.

 

In the post-apocalyptic future, twin brothers Lucas and Kit live in a farming village that ekes a living from the parched landscape. Once every seven years, the town gets absolutely deluged with rain, which heralds the arrival of a pair of hungry ghosts, the Rider and the Wife. Each time the heavy rains come, the ghosts appear and place a mark on their prey. The next morning the hunt begins. If the prey can survive until sunset, supposedly they'll be free, but if not they'll become the next Rider. No one is allowed to help; anyone who interferes will be killed immediately.

 

When Kit is chosen though, Lucas isn't willing to let his brother die without trying to help. They make a plan. Instead of running toward the river as people usually do, Kit will run to the distant city, abandoned when civilization fell. And Lucas will meet him there.Together, perhaps the can out-run, out-hide, out-think, and maybe even out-fight the Rider and the Wife. Of course it's not really that easy, and what they find in the city is much stranger and much older than they possibly could've prepared for. Almost the whole book is devoted to the chase, with only a little scene setting before it starts, and a glimpse of the aftermath after it ends at sunset.

 

Author Premee Mohamed maintains a frantic pace as the brothers try to keep ahead of undead hunters on horseback and their horrible, monstrous hounds. Just as she did in The Butcher of the Forest, she describes the otherworldly in language that's visceral and immediate, making her ghostly creatures feel disturbingly lively. If I have one complaint, it's that the worldbuilding is so expansive that the tale seems dwarfed by the world it's set in. There might even be a connection to the otherworld of The Butcher. That's much better than the author having too little imagination though, and the unexpected sprawl of the scenery never detracts from the urgency of the pursuit. 

Invisible Planets

 
  
Invisible Planets

An Anthology of Contemporary Chinese SF in Translation

edited by Ken Liu

translated by Ken Liu

Tor
2016 
 
 
Invisible Planets is a collection of scifi short stories originally written in Chinese. The stories were selected and translated by Ken Liu, who's a science fiction writer in his own right, and a prolific translator of Chinese fiction. The authors included in this anthology have all won awards, and most of the stories are award-winners or nominees as well. As a result, the book functions as a kind of "best of" collection of recent Chinese science fiction.
 
According to Liu in his introduction, one of his other goals for the book is to show off the versatility of Chinese scifi by including the widest possible range of topics and writing styles. Because of this, it's difficult to identify any recurring themes. We get military scifi, a couple of cyberpunk stories, robots inheriting the planet after the humans are gone, a couple of dystopias, an homage to Italo Calvino, and from Liu Cixin, a pair of stories that have the same pro space exploration message and feeling as the so-called "golden age of American scifi." He'd be right at home on the pages of Amazing Stories, I think.
 
The one theme I think I notice is social commentary, which is common in the science fiction of any country. In his introduction, Liu discourages us from interpreting any of the stories as being 'about' Chinese social problems. On the one hand, this feels disingenuous, like including a story about a mass shooting in an anthology of American fiction and then telling the readers not to think of it as a commentary on gun violence in America.
 
On the other hand, I think part of what Liu means is that we shouldn't read these stories as being only about China. We get stories about young people having trouble finding employment, pollution, overcrowding in cities, economic inequality, the difficulty of caring for elderly people who can't support themselves. These are problems of capitalism, we have the same problems everywhere that people don't have the right to life's necessities, but only the right to buy those necessities if they can afford them. The one story that reminds me of the Chinese government's efforts to control the internet is also an intentional homage to 1984, and reading it makes me think about the way America and Britain starting to use age verification as an excuse to restrict online anonymity, or the way some websites censor certain words, so that people have to write 'unalive', because if they wrote 'dead' or 'killed' then no one else would be able to see their post.
 
The censorship story, "The City of Silence" by Ma Boyong is one of the best in the collection. It's one I think I heard of when it was first published in English, but never read until now. It's set in a city where everyone has a government issued internet username, there are only a handful of accessible websites, and people can only write using words from an approved list. Everyone also have to wear a listening device that beeps whenever they say an unapproved word, and that automatically calls the police if they say too many. So mostly people say nothing at all. Our protagonist is a man who notices a word puzzle hidden in plain sight online. When he solves it, it leads him to a small in-person gathering where the listening devices don't work, so people can talk about whatever they want (and enjoy casual sex). Joining the club revitalizes his love of language, and he starts to notice other ways that people try to use approved words to express forbidden thoughts.
 
"Folding Beijing" by Hao Jingfang (who also wrote the title story) is about a future where the capital city folds and rearranges itself like a Transformer robot, turning it into three different cities that share the same footprint. One is spacious and luxurious for the rich, another is kind of like a modern city, and the third is an overcrowded dystopia for the poor. Everyone uses a hibernation device to sleep through the other two cities' time on the surface. We follow a poor man who's trying to make some money by crossing between the different Beijings as a courier. "Invisible Planets" is written in the style of Invisible Cities, and it reminds me of Liu's own story, "The Bookmaking Habits of Select Species".
 
Two of Xia Jia's stories, "A Hundred Ghosts Parade Tonight" and "Night Journey of the Horse-Dragon" depict abandoned robots attaining consciousness and sentience after all the humans have disappeared from the Earth. They feel like ghost stories, or fairy tales. Cheng Jingbo's "Grave of the Fireflies" reminds me of Staislaw Lem's robot fables, except sadder and perhaps a bit more lyrical. There's a princess, a magician, a castle in the shape of a giant robot knight, and also last surviving humans migrating to an orbital city around the last star as the rest of the galaxy goes dark.

Bad Dream

 
 
Bad Dream
A Dreamer Story

by Nicole Maines

art by Rye Hickman

DC Comics

2024

 

 

Bad Dream is an origin story for the transgender superhero Dreamer, written by the actress who played her in the Supergirl tv series. It's part of DC Comics' series of YA graphic novels, which seems to include more origin stories than ongoing adventures. The version of Dreamer we meet here is very similar to the one on Supergirl, although here she's presented as a high school student rather than a young adult like on the show.
 
Nia Nal and her older sister Maeve are both half human, half alien, and they live in a secret small town where aliens can live on Earth without attracting attention from the broader public. Their father is human, and their mom used to be one of the Seers from the planet Naltor, a kind of psychic matriarchy who use their visions of the future to both protect the planet militarily and police it internally. Their mom had a vision long ago that her daughter would inherit her powers, so Maeve's spent her whole life training to receive dream visions ... but they haven't started yet. Nia is trans, idolizes her big sister, and wishes the other alien teens would stop bullying her.
 
Nia has also started having dreams with strange, prophetic imagery. She's afraid that she's stealing Maeve's powers from her, so she runs away to Metropolis to ... well, she doesn't actually seem to have a plan. She turns off her cellphone and then just wanders around the city drinking coffee and energy drinks to keep from falling asleep.
 
Eventually, she happens to run into Galaxy, an alien teen we met in Galaxy: The Prettiest Star from this same series of YA comics. Galaxy is metaphorically like a trans girl because she was forced to disguise herself as a human boy for most of her life. Galaxy has a Black girlfriend and a Black trans best friend. They're all older teens and recognize that Nia is a kid in trouble, so they bring her to a queer community center that includes a shelter. The trans friend wears a cool space-themed outfit in a ballroom walk-off and wins the night. Nia learns a bit about Black trans and queer culture in the big city and embarrasses herself a bit with her small town ignorance, but eventually befriends Galaxy and her friends enough that she agrees to let the older girls drive her back home.
 
One of the other Seers of Naltor was also in Metropolis. She follows Nia and Galaxy back to the secret town, reveals that (quelle surprise) the psychic leaders of a planetary surveillance state are not actually nice people, and executes Nia's mom for desertion. Nia inherits her mother's full powers in that moment, and uses them to defeat the other Seer. Afterward, we're shown that Nia and Maeve's relationship is now quite strained, and that Nia has become a sometimes superhero.
 
I have a sense that DC intends the graphic novels in this series to serve as entry points for new readers, and maybe acts as self-funding market research to find out which characters spark those readers' imagination. I'm glad that effort seems to include trying out multiple trans and trans-adjacent characters, and I've seen that Galaxy and Dreamer have gotten to appear in some of DC's regular monthly comics too, Galaxy in a Hawkgirl run and Dreamer teaming up with Superboy.

The Claw of the Conciliator

 
 
The Claw of the Conciliator
by Gene Wolfe

Orb

1981, reprinted 1994 

 

 

The Claw of the Conciliator is the second book in Gene Wolfe's Book of the New Sun quartet. Our narrator is Severian, an orphan with near-perfect memory who will someday become the new autarch. For all the strangeness of Wolfe's far future Urth, the first book used a couple of familiar narrative arcs to ground us. We watched as Severian grew from a boy to a young man as a member of the Torturers' Guild, and saw him exiled from his home for a forbidden act of mercy. Then, as he traveled, we saw him get challenged to a duel, which he prepared for and then fought, and he met some traveling companions.
 
In Claw we leave those narrative arcs behind, so I had much less sense of where the story might take me. At the end of the previous book, Severian was separated from the others by a disturbance in the crowd as they left the city of Nessus. At the start of this one, he's hoping to reconnect with them on the road. A town hires him to execute a criminal, and he tells us this will happen many more times in his travels, but that he won't mention it again.
 
Severian is recruited by the rebel leader Vodalus, and sent to deliver a message to a spy in the House Absolute, home of the Autarch. Before he leaves, he takes part in a ritual in which an alien carrion animal consumes a corpse, then the participants drink some of the animal's brain fluid, and experience visions of the person who died. The corpse belongs to Thelca, the prisoner Sevarian loved, and who he mercy killed to spare from further torture. Perhaps because of his perfect memory, Severian permanently receives a small piece of Thelca's mind as a second personality inside him. Later in the book, we'll see him remember things because she knew them, and in one instance, she'll possess his body.
 
Severian arrives at the autarch's House and is immediately imprisoned in a communal holding cell. Originally it was meant to hold people while they wait for trial, but most of the current prisoners were born there; their ancestors were accused of crimes generations ago, and never released or even tried.
 
Severian escapes and meets Vodalus's contact. He receives instructions to return the Claw of the Conciliator to the holy order it was stolen from, and to kill the Autarch as he goes to war. The Claw is a glowing gemstone that appears to have the power to heal injuries. Severian realizes the Autarch knows about Vodalus's communications network. This seems less like counterintelligence, and more like the Autarch wants Vodalus to succeed at overthrowing the autarchy. It seems possible that the Autarch somehow orchestrated Vodalus becoming a rebel, and maybe that he's chosen Severian as his successor, although if so, his methods and even his reasons are unknown to us.
 
Severian is reunited with his companions, who are there to perform a play a a festival - the impresario Dr Talos, the giant Baldanders, and Severian's girlfriend Dorcas, who was resurrected by the Claw decades after she died. They perform and then part ways, with Talos and Baldanders returning home, and Severian and Dorcas on the way to complete his two missions.
 

alien carrion eater illustration by Wayne Douglas Barlowe

 
   
Seemingly very little happens, aside from events being set in motion. We see examples of the government's cruelty - the execution and the hereditary prisoners. We see the power of the Claw. Severian is changed by the ceremony with Thecla's corpse. We learn that there's something strange about the relationship between the Autarch and the rebellion. And Sevarian is given goals to accomplish that will presumably lead to him becoming the new autarch. One chapter is transcript of a story Severian reads that sounds like a parable for killing the alien giant Abaia who lives in the ocean. Another chapter is the text of Dr Talos's play, about an autarch acquiring a new sun to replace the dying old one. I have to think that both of these are foreshadowing events that will happen in the next two books.
 
Wolfe has kind of a bleak vision of the future. We know that in the past, humans traveled by spaceship to other stars. Aliens have come to Urth to live and brought some animals with them to integrate into our ecology, and the aliens themselves intermarried with humans. The moon is green and forested, and at their peak, humans lived on Venus and Mars, and in domed cities underwater. But in Severian's time, society has become tradition-bound and quasi-medieval, and technology is perceived like magic. Severian's country is ruled by the autarchy, and it's engaged in a long war with its northern neighbors. Plus, you know, the sun is dying.
 
The giants intrigue me. We're told that Abaia is big like a mountain, and that he'll continue to grow until he can break the continents. Baldanders is an alien from the same species, just young and small enough that he can still live on land. Baldanders seems extremely hostile to a different species of alien who are part of the Autarch's court. If I've understood correctly, the hereditary ruling class, the exultants, are all descended from humans who had children with the alien courtiers. And Severian might be the child of an exultant.
 
Some things Vodalus says make me wonder if the rebels are somehow aligned with the giants against the Autarch. It's hard for me to see what advantage humans could hope to gain from allying with an alien who will eventually destroy the planet, but if there is a connection, I imagine it will become clearer later. It's almost as though a war between two alien societies is being fought on Urth, with humans on both sides of the conflict.
 
I see a kind of parallelism between Abaia who grows like a cancer on the earth, and the black hole growing at the heart of the old sun that's the cause of its decline. In Severian's time, the sun is large and red and no longer as warm as today, not because it's millions of years in the future (though it is thousands), but because of a cancer inside the star, eating it from within. If so, then story logic would seem to require that, to save the sun, Severian will also have to defeat the giant Abaia. How that will intersect with the rebellion and the war, I'm not sure. 

The Hard Switch

 
 
The Hard Switch

by Owen Pomery

Avery Hill

2024 

 

 

The Hard Switch is a graphic novel set at the end of an age of interstellar civilization. We're told that there's a mineral needed to make hyperspace jumps, that it's nearly all used up, and that everywhere in space, people are scrambling to get someplace they want to stay before the mineral runs out for good and each star system becomes isolated from its neighbors. It sounds pretty bleak! But the characters we follow, while not satisfied with where they're currently at, also don't seem to feel any special urgency. The art style and narrative tone both remind me of On a Sunbeam, a comparison that unfortunately doesn't do Hard Switch any favors. This is much slimmer and more slight; it's not fair to hold it to the same standard.
 
We follow two women and a sentient octopus. They have enough of the mineral for a few more jumps, and they're trying to salvage old shipwrecks to find more. Because our viewpoint is such a closeup, and because this trio seems so self-reliant, the mood is less like the apocalyptic closing of all borders and Balkanization of space, and more like some roommates trying to squeeze in a few errands before a storm snows them in for the weekend. I liked what was on the page well enough, but there's a real mismatch between what we're told the stakes are and what they actually seem to be.
 
Pomery favors plot over characterization or worldbuilding, and he keeps the scale of the action quite small. We open with our trio locating a shipwreck and going in to grab the hyperspace mineral. They encounter some peaceful alien salvagers and then a team of violent human mercenaries. They escape unharmed with an object with ancient writing on it. They become convinced it's proof that before the special mineral was discovered, there was some other way to travel faster than lightspeed. Unfortunately, some rich guy recently hauled a huge cache of ancient art offworld.
 
They to track down the art collector and arrange to meet him. Along the way, they stop to help a ship in distress. It's a transport of refugees, but almost everyone has already died. The lone survivor is an alien child. The unscrupulous ship owner took everyone's money, skimped on the oxygen supply, and and left the ship and its passengers adrift halfway to the destination. This is the one place where we get a glimpse of how the coming crisis is making some people desperate and others ruthless. Our viewpoint characters don't seem especially privileged, but they must be. They own a ship, even if it's small, and have enough of the rare mineral to do seemingly everything they want to get done.
 
After that detour, the three go to the mansion of the art collector, and he lets them in to see walls and walls of ancient text, supposedly because he wants to see their fragment to to consider buying it. But it turns out he's also the human trafficker, he knows they've witnessed his crime, and he wants to eliminate them. By all rights, he ought to succeed, but our three protagonists manage to defeat his private security death squad and get away despite being surprised and outnumbered.
 
As they escape into space again, we learn that they got photos of the ancient language, so if there is a secret to FTL travel in there, they may be able to translate it, or send the images to someone who can. For now they jump someplace safe to hide out for awhile, still with enough of the mineral to jump to where they really want to be later, whether or not the translation works out.

Pomery's art style is quite simplified, which works well for the story he's chosen to tell. I thought about what it might take to communicate the scale of the upcoming disaster, and I think it would just take more - a longer book, a broader scope, more characters, more plot threads. I also thought about what the story would be like with no ancient secrets or magic remedies, and I think it would be like a parable for downward mobility. Young adults who grew up thinking they'd be able to go where they want, when they want, realizing they're going to be stuck in one place, and having to accept that because there's no way to avoid it. 

The Shamshine Blind

 
 
The Shamshine Blind

by Paz Pardo

Atria

2023 

 

 

I think alt-historical mystery novels are having a moment. Paz Pardo's The Shamshine Blind is one several recent books that fit that description. The first one I read was The Yiddish Policeman's Union, right when it first came out. I doubt it was the first book to fit the description, and it's difficult for me to believe that what's going on right now is connected to Chabon in any straightforward way. Seeing so many examples appearing around the sane time makes it seem like the two genres have a natural affinity, like alternate history worldbuilding and mystery-solving detective stories pair well in a way that allows each to reinforce the other.
 
Pardo also writes The Shamshine Blind with a kind of gonzo approach to the science part of her science fiction that reminds me of Nick Harkaway or Jasper Fforde. Because while the point where her alt history departs real history is relatively straightforward - what if Argentina won the Falklands War? - the cause of the departure is like something out of a comic book or cartoon - what if the way they won was by deploying colors that cause emotions as chemical weapons? By the present day of Shamshine, Argentina is the world's superpower, America is a bombed-out ruin with an economy decimated by hyperinflation, and 'psychopigments', colors that control how you feel, are both our primary pharmaceuticals and our life-ruining illegal drugs.
 
The mystery is narrated by Curdita, a field agent in Pigment Enforcement nearing the mandatory retirement age of 40, working in the suburbs of an abandoned San Francisco, still dreaming of a promotion to the big time in Iowa City or Boise. Curdita is a Depressive, as are all the other Pigment agents; depression weakens the effect of psychopigments. Neurotypical people are too vulnerable, and can be permanently brain-damaged by a level of exposure that Depressives can (mostly) recover from in a few weeks. 
 
At the start of the book, Curdita is tracking down a shipment of Shamshine, a counterfeit version of Sunshine Yellow, the psychopigment for happiness, which is taken daily in pill form by patients across the country. We hear about at least a dozen other pigments, but a couple of the most important are Deepest Blue, the first psychopigment, which causes memory loss and amnesia, and was Argentina's main weapon in the war, and Slate Gray, which causes ennui and a lack of motivation. 
 
Soon enough, the Shamshine case leads Curdita to a much bigger mystery. Someone is creating a whole new pigment with unknown effects, except that all the human test subjects are getting totally burned out by the strength of it. Once they get it right, whoever they are, whatever it is, they appear to have plans to use it to manipulate the public mood on a national scale, and in the meantime, they're killing or using Deepest Blue to erase the minds of anyone who might be a loose end. Curdita goes all-out trying to solve this and stop the looming disaster, spending the back half of the book operating out of a hospital room rather than the police station, and sacrificing her health, her sanity, her relationships, even the most intimate parts of her personal life, all to solve the case and save the day.
 
Pardo interweaves the present day mystery with Curdita's memories of her childhood and her time in the police academy, and a tour of a fallen America, transformed by years of psychopigment warfare and the periphery's love-hate relationship with the new Argentinian core. Americans listen to soap operas on the radio and eat imported hot sauce at every meal; and militant White nationalists dream of reclaiming lost glory. When Curdita gets exposed to Slate or Blue or Magenta Obsession in the course of her pursuit, her emotions are no longer her own, and the past, both hers and the country's, spills out of her mind and into the narrative in a kind of free association. 
 
Pardo takes her slightly silly premise and treats it seriously. San Francisco getting emptied out by a Magenta attack that disables fifty-thousand people by turning their fandom into true fanaticism is zany, but Pardo keeps an eye on the human cost. Her America is all hinterland, every major city made uninhabitable by Deepest Blue bombings that make them permanent superfund sites. I think that's part of what reminds me of Harkaway's The Gone-Away World or Fforde's Shades of Grey - an absurd apocalypse is still the end of the old world, and however strange the new world might be, people still have to find a way to live there.

A Storm of Wings

 
 
A Storm of Wings

by John Harrison

Bantam Spectra

1980, reprinted 2005
 
 
A Storm of Wings is the second of John Harrison's science fantasy books centered on the far-future city of Viriconium. The first book, The Pastel City, is set on earth in the Evening, a kind of quasi-medieval period that follows after the fall of the ultra high-tech civilizations of the Afternoon. That first book reads almost like a sequel, because Harrison introduces us to a King-Arthur-like figure who ruled Viriconium and united the surrounding lands, but then the whole book is set after his death. The dead king's daughter, the young queen, calls her father's old allies out of retirement for help as Viriconium is invaded by her half-sister, leading an army of human raiders and scifi monsters left over from the Afternoon.
 
A Storm of Wings is set another 80 years later. The young queen is now a woman in middle age (human lifespans are longer in this era, it seems). Her father's equivalent of the Knights of the Round Table are all dead, except for Tomb the dwarf and the ancient, possibly immortal wizard-figure Cellur. Society is Viriconium has become less medieval and more futuristic thanks to the Reborn Men, an army of soldiers from the Afternoon who were specially trained to fight the scifi monsters, who Tomb woke up out of suspended animation for help in the war. It's not initially clear how, but the other important detail from the first book is that Tomb mentioned several times that his mentor was the first person in the Evening to travel to the moon, and that journey is the source of this book's problems. Unbeknownst to anyone, he's returned to the earth, and he's brought something with him...
  
So, A Storm of Wings leans more into the scifi half of science fantasy. It's also probably more literary, because while the first book had dense, almost poetic passages of description, and featured slightly unconventional heroes in a strange setting, its plot still followed the structure of an adventure story. 
 
This second book is more ambitious, though in my opinion not quite as good. The main protagonist of Pastel City was a reluctant hero because he was old and retired, weary and mournful, and he wanted to be a poet. In Storm, Harrison goes fully anti-heroic. We get someone who repeatedly rejects the attempts to recruit him, who was an apprentice airship pilot in the war (which destroyed all the airships), who's spent the last 80 years angry and embittered and working as an assassin. Tomb and Cellur are little more than elderly advisors at this point. Cellur's tower has collapsed and his flock of mechanical birds is all but gone. We get a witness to the alien trouble, a Reborn woman who has only a tenuous grasp to reality, and one of the queen's advisors, another Reborn Man who is in the middle of losing his grasp as well. And to guide them, the ghostly psychic projection of Tomb's mentor, a babbling, farting, levitating sphere of ectoplasm, who sometimes warns of danger or leads the way, but is otherwise incapable of coherent thought.
 
What especially makes Storm different though, is that while nominally the monsters this group has set off to find and defeat are alien insects, originally from deep space, more recently from the moon, the actual problem they have to solve is a kind of epistemic crisis, a fundamental disagreement about the nature of reality itself. 
 
I mentioned that both the Reborn protagonists experience something like delusions; Harrison tells us this problem is ubiquitous among the Reborn Men. Some part of their minds still wants to live in the Afternoon. This is presented like a kind of degenerative schizophrenia. They suffer hallucinations and fugue states and lose the ability to care for themselves or to live among anyone but their own kind.
 
The citizens of Viriconium increasingly join the Sign of the Locust, a cult that preaches that the world is an illusion, it isn't real. By the start of the book they've become violent. By the end they are all partially turning into insects, growing new limbs and other bodyparts as though they're cancerous tumors.
 
When our protagonists, a mix of reluctant and incapable, finally learn the truth, the problem isn't just that alien insects have landed on the earth. It's almost metaphysical. Harrison claims the earth looks the way it does not just because of its physical matter, because of how we, collectively, because of how our minds interpret that arrangement of matter. But the insects have alien minds, different needs, a new psychology, and the world responds by becoming what they need it to be. 
 
The insects are like the angels from Neon Genesis Evangelion or the hronir from Tlon from Borges's story "Tlon, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius". Their presence is an incursion of a competing idea that strives to overwrite the world as we know it, a dream trying to become real. The changing landscape, the toxic yellow mist, the mutating cultists, the city of Viriconium overlaid with another version of itself made of spiderwebs and wasps' nests, the insects themselves growing human limbs and organs in a process that mirrors the cultists - the apocalypse is here, and it is the physical manifestation of a disagreement about meaning. You can't fault Harrison for trying something daring.
 
That said, I think I prefer The Pastel City. Harrison leans so hard into making his characters unlikable that I didn't especially enjoy reading them, even as they opposed an end of the world scenario that's more like a nightmare or horror film than like a disaster movie. I liked his prose better before too. In Storm he repeatedly describes scenes as though we are watching them on a screen, including people walking onto, then across, the out of our unmoving field of vision. It felt like reading a description of a comic or movie, it's not an effect I enjoy in literature. If other critics are to be believed, both these two are just warm-ups, and it's the next couple books where Harrison will really impress me. It's an open question though, whether what is mostly widely praised about his writing will be something I enjoy more than a clear story, told well.