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Review Date: 7/30/2010
My main thought while reading this book for the first time was, "I want the adventure novel right now." Because the tale of the Chinese fleet splitting up to explore the whole world, including the Antarctic, would make a great novel or movie.
The scholarship is another story. Now, there are plenty of good pieces of evidence presented in this book. I'm just not sure they're as definitive as the author presents, think he took a few too many leaps from Point A to Point K without making sure all the dots in between connected. Quite a few of his pieces of evidence are essentially described as "possible Chinese junks/artifacts/etc., pending excavation." If we haven't looked at it properly yet, it's suggestive, but not nearly as strong a piece of evidence as we'd wish.
There are several instance where he doesn't give enough information about a particular bit of evidence he presents for readers to be able to evaluate it. I'll give some examples:
- The Vinland Map has been tested and debated over for decades in an attempt to authenticate it or prove it a forgery. Menzies mentions the debate, mentions that one point in contention was the presence of anatase in the ink (not usually found until the 1920s), and then says that someone found some anatase in another definitely authentic medieval map, so that argument can be dismissed. In fact, the anatase issue is much more complicated than that, let alone the other questions about the map he doesn't even mention. He doesn't give the reader enough of a summary of the issues to evaluate the arguments of either side, or even know that there are as many questions as actually exist. He makes it look disingenuously simple.
- He mentions that some other studies found that two villages in Peru and the Navajo elders about a century ago understood Chinese. He does not say which dialect of Chinese, which would be an important point - many are mutually unintelligible. He also does not attempt to explain how it is that language populations separated for five centuries and surrounded by other language groups would somehow remain mutually intelligible. (I'm not saying it's impossible, but it's a major issue that needs to be addressed.) He doesn't even say whether the original studies he's citing addressed these issues.
And so forth. It's certainly suggestive, and Menzies's thesis may turn out to be essentially correct, but I'd want a lot more examinations of the evidence before accepting most of it.
The scholarship is another story. Now, there are plenty of good pieces of evidence presented in this book. I'm just not sure they're as definitive as the author presents, think he took a few too many leaps from Point A to Point K without making sure all the dots in between connected. Quite a few of his pieces of evidence are essentially described as "possible Chinese junks/artifacts/etc., pending excavation." If we haven't looked at it properly yet, it's suggestive, but not nearly as strong a piece of evidence as we'd wish.
There are several instance where he doesn't give enough information about a particular bit of evidence he presents for readers to be able to evaluate it. I'll give some examples:
- The Vinland Map has been tested and debated over for decades in an attempt to authenticate it or prove it a forgery. Menzies mentions the debate, mentions that one point in contention was the presence of anatase in the ink (not usually found until the 1920s), and then says that someone found some anatase in another definitely authentic medieval map, so that argument can be dismissed. In fact, the anatase issue is much more complicated than that, let alone the other questions about the map he doesn't even mention. He doesn't give the reader enough of a summary of the issues to evaluate the arguments of either side, or even know that there are as many questions as actually exist. He makes it look disingenuously simple.
- He mentions that some other studies found that two villages in Peru and the Navajo elders about a century ago understood Chinese. He does not say which dialect of Chinese, which would be an important point - many are mutually unintelligible. He also does not attempt to explain how it is that language populations separated for five centuries and surrounded by other language groups would somehow remain mutually intelligible. (I'm not saying it's impossible, but it's a major issue that needs to be addressed.) He doesn't even say whether the original studies he's citing addressed these issues.
And so forth. It's certainly suggestive, and Menzies's thesis may turn out to be essentially correct, but I'd want a lot more examinations of the evidence before accepting most of it.
Review Date: 7/31/2010
Helpful Score: 2
I thoroughly enjoyed this book. Acacia has a large, prosperous empire in which many people live pretty well - but there's a serious dark side: the secret trade of slaves for drugs the empire conducts with a distant, largely mysterious nation. The king abhors the trade, but is himself addicted to the imported drug; he endeavors at least to try to clean up some of these problems before his children come to power, for their sake. All Acacian plans go out the window when the Mein arrive on their quest for vengeance and conquest.
The story has some familiar epic fantasy elements - I could compare it to A Song of Ice and Fire - but Durham puts enough twists in that it feels fresh and exciting again. One bit I particularly loved is what he did with the old trope, "Oh, our ancestors want us to take vengeance, so what can you do?" When the Mein say this, they mean it literally: their ancestors are all stored up in a big sacred warehouse, and they are most definitely capable of giving their descendants orders. I also liked that for the conflict near the end (trying to be vague here), I honestly could not guess who was going to win.
I just got the second book in the series and am very much looking forward to finding out what happens after the major shake-up at the end of the first.
The story has some familiar epic fantasy elements - I could compare it to A Song of Ice and Fire - but Durham puts enough twists in that it feels fresh and exciting again. One bit I particularly loved is what he did with the old trope, "Oh, our ancestors want us to take vengeance, so what can you do?" When the Mein say this, they mean it literally: their ancestors are all stored up in a big sacred warehouse, and they are most definitely capable of giving their descendants orders. I also liked that for the conflict near the end (trying to be vague here), I honestly could not guess who was going to win.
I just got the second book in the series and am very much looking forward to finding out what happens after the major shake-up at the end of the first.
Review Date: 7/31/2010
Helpful Score: 1
Kramer noticed a trend while promoting his previous book: people kept asking him, "But what if Van Gogh had had Prozac?" Generally, they meant that they thought Van Gogh's depression was directly tied to his genius, and that ameliorating his condition would have killed his art. And Kramer started thinking, what a weird question. After all, we have plenty of evidence that depression makes it harder for people to get motivated to do anything, including paint masterpieces, so why don't we assume that Van Gogh was a genius in spite of, rather than because of, his depression? That led to this book.
Kramer describes many examples of the old trope that depression is linked to genius, a trope portrayed in literature and evidently believed by the many people who asked that question. He points out that in the 19th century, tuberculosis was also portrayed as a disease for sensitive, artistic types, yet now that we understand it better, no one would seriously suggest that tuberculosis contributes to artistic talent and so treating it would be a tragedy.
He moves on to discuss the latest (as of the time of writing) research on depression, which increasingly suggest an organic cause, or at least a strong organic component, for the disease. He describes how the medication interferon can induce depression, how a comparison of depressed and non-depressed cadavers revealed a greater incidence of the depressed cadavers having holes in their brains up to 2 cm in diameter, how some people have greater capability for neuroresilience (essentially, the brain's ability to grow back neurons damaged by stress or chemical causes or whatever), and many other clinical findings. Kramer suggests that depression is like heart disease: lifestyle can contribute to it, but you might have a genetic predisposition too - perhaps people with naturally high neuroresilience are the ones who seem to bounce back from crises, while those with low neuroresilience can't, in the same way that some people will get high blood pressure almost regardless of what they do.
I highly recommend this book.
Kramer describes many examples of the old trope that depression is linked to genius, a trope portrayed in literature and evidently believed by the many people who asked that question. He points out that in the 19th century, tuberculosis was also portrayed as a disease for sensitive, artistic types, yet now that we understand it better, no one would seriously suggest that tuberculosis contributes to artistic talent and so treating it would be a tragedy.
He moves on to discuss the latest (as of the time of writing) research on depression, which increasingly suggest an organic cause, or at least a strong organic component, for the disease. He describes how the medication interferon can induce depression, how a comparison of depressed and non-depressed cadavers revealed a greater incidence of the depressed cadavers having holes in their brains up to 2 cm in diameter, how some people have greater capability for neuroresilience (essentially, the brain's ability to grow back neurons damaged by stress or chemical causes or whatever), and many other clinical findings. Kramer suggests that depression is like heart disease: lifestyle can contribute to it, but you might have a genetic predisposition too - perhaps people with naturally high neuroresilience are the ones who seem to bounce back from crises, while those with low neuroresilience can't, in the same way that some people will get high blood pressure almost regardless of what they do.
I highly recommend this book.
Review Date: 7/17/2011
This collection of essays covers a variety of topics, from women in the early Russian Communist groups to Joan Kelly's classic 1977 "Did Women Have a Renaissance?" (Her answer: no, at least not during the Renaissance.) They demonstrate how understanding what women were doing and their position in society is crucial to understanding any historical period.
Review Date: 7/25/2010
This is a fascinating examination of the medieval world economy (in the Eastern Hemisphere), spanning Europe, North Africa and the Middle East, and Asia. Abu-Lughod breaks the system down into three interlocking "spheres of influence": Europe; between the Middle East and India; and between China and India. (Imagine a Venn diagram with three circles overlaid on the map.) It can get a bit dense and dry if you aren't into the topic, but if you are, it's great.
Some of Abu-Lughod's points go against what my high school textbook claimed (though that's no surprise, given how long it takes textbooks to catch up with historical research): especially interesting was her argument, supported by primary documents, that Europeans were not actually miles ahead of everyone in accounting techniques or in forming capital-pooling proto-corporations, so that did not provide the great advantage my textbook claimed.
This book was published about 20 years ago, and I would love to read an updated version which included any new discoveries and refinements made since then.
Some of Abu-Lughod's points go against what my high school textbook claimed (though that's no surprise, given how long it takes textbooks to catch up with historical research): especially interesting was her argument, supported by primary documents, that Europeans were not actually miles ahead of everyone in accounting techniques or in forming capital-pooling proto-corporations, so that did not provide the great advantage my textbook claimed.
This book was published about 20 years ago, and I would love to read an updated version which included any new discoveries and refinements made since then.
Review Date: 7/31/2010
This is a lovely children's book. It follows 7-year-old Ojibwe girl Omakayas and her family through a year (1847, I think). Some reviews have compared it to Little House on the Prairie (but from the Native perspective), and it does have some similarities: mainly, the combination of watching the family go through both normal activities like setting up their summer home, dealing with sibling tensions, picking berries, and raising a pet crow, and major events like a smallpox outbreak.
I haven't read the sequels, The Game of Silence and The Porcupine Year, yet, but if they're anything like this one, I'd recommend them all.
I haven't read the sequels, The Game of Silence and The Porcupine Year, yet, but if they're anything like this one, I'd recommend them all.
Black Elk Speaks: Being the Life Story of a Holy Man of the Oglala Sioux
Author:
Book Type: Paperback
10
Author:
Book Type: Paperback
10
Review Date: 4/8/2009
Helpful Score: 4
While this is an interesting look into Nicholas Black Elk's life, the Ghost Dance religion, and the Lakota struggle against white encroachment during the 19th century, readers should know that this is not really an autobiography. John Neihardt significantly cut, edited, and interpreted his interviews with Black Elk to an extent which Black Elk himself did not approve of. Interested readers can find the Black Elk's actual words (as related in the transcripts of Black Elk and Neihardt's conversations) in "The Sixth Grandfather: Black Elk's Teachings Given to John G. Neihardt."
Review Date: 7/31/2010
This was a really fun book. Post-apocalyptic (well, kinda - it was a slow, economic apocalypse) Toronto is a vivid and interesting setting, from the drug-dealing gangs to the nice old couple selling squirrel meat in the park to get by. The protagonist, Ti-Jeanne, is a young woman tough enough to survive here, but still overwhelmed and uncertain about things as a lot of young people are. She keeps forgiving her drug-dealing ex-boyfriend when she probably shouldn't, is stressed about the new baby, and her relationship with her grandmother Gros-Jeanne is complicated by Ti-Jeanne's wanting nothing to do with her grandmother's Caribbean religious practices. (Her mother Mi-Jeanne has been missing for years.)
Then a politician living outside the Burn, in a nicer area of Toronto, decides she needs a transplant with a human rather than a porcine heart and tasks a local gang leader with fetching her one. Unfortunately, he turns the job over to one of his dealers, Toby, who happens to be Ti-Jeanne's ex-boyfriend. To shake things up even more, Ti-Jeanne starts realizing that the loa are real, and they want something from her...
Another reviewer mentioned that all the men in the book are awful people. Leaving aside minor characters like the old man in the park, that's generally true - because they all belong to the antagonist's gang. Gangsters who deal in black magic don't generally hire nice people! And to help balance that out, the female politician is just as villainous in her way, since she knows she's asking the gang to murder an innocent person to get her a heart, as well as being complicit in the kinds of policies that created the Burn and keep it the way it is. That leaves - well, just Ti-Jeanne and Gros Jeanne, plus the crazy homeless woman who keeps turning up, and she certainly isn't managing well. (I'm not sure how you would classify the loa, but the one Ti-Jeanne deals with most seems male, whatever that means for a loa, and he's scary and powerful and not someone I'd want over for dinner, but not evil.)
Overall, a fun adventure that combines science fiction and fantasy elements.
Then a politician living outside the Burn, in a nicer area of Toronto, decides she needs a transplant with a human rather than a porcine heart and tasks a local gang leader with fetching her one. Unfortunately, he turns the job over to one of his dealers, Toby, who happens to be Ti-Jeanne's ex-boyfriend. To shake things up even more, Ti-Jeanne starts realizing that the loa are real, and they want something from her...
Another reviewer mentioned that all the men in the book are awful people. Leaving aside minor characters like the old man in the park, that's generally true - because they all belong to the antagonist's gang. Gangsters who deal in black magic don't generally hire nice people! And to help balance that out, the female politician is just as villainous in her way, since she knows she's asking the gang to murder an innocent person to get her a heart, as well as being complicit in the kinds of policies that created the Burn and keep it the way it is. That leaves - well, just Ti-Jeanne and Gros Jeanne, plus the crazy homeless woman who keeps turning up, and she certainly isn't managing well. (I'm not sure how you would classify the loa, but the one Ti-Jeanne deals with most seems male, whatever that means for a loa, and he's scary and powerful and not someone I'd want over for dinner, but not evil.)
Overall, a fun adventure that combines science fiction and fantasy elements.
Review Date: 7/31/2010
This book recounts the case of an Italian miller who clashed with the Roman Inquisition twice over his insistence on speaking about his heretical (according to the Inquisition) ideas. Menocchio used the metaphor of cheese forming to describe the beginnings of the universe, and "worms" - that is, angels - forming in the mass. Perhaps worst of all to the Inquisition was Menocchio's assertion that God was formed along with these angels in the primordial chaos, rather than being the creator of it all.
Menocchio was eventually burned at the stake for heresy, but not right away - the Inquisition actually let him go the first time, so long as he promised not to mention his ideas to anyone again.
This was an interesting book, in which both Menocchio and the Inquisitors are shown as complex people.
Menocchio was eventually burned at the stake for heresy, but not right away - the Inquisition actually let him go the first time, so long as he promised not to mention his ideas to anyone again.
This was an interesting book, in which both Menocchio and the Inquisitors are shown as complex people.
Review Date: 7/25/2010
Wilken offers a fascinating look at the early Christians from an outsider's perspective. Usually, histories of the early church focus on the church and its members, taking their point of view. Wilken instead looks at contemporary Roman impressions of the new cult instead. What I found especially interesting were the number of similarities the Romans saw between the early Christians and other groups at the time, including other cults imported from the Middle East (such as that of Mithras) and fraternal organizations. This is a good corrective to the "inevitable" view of history, where because something - in this case a religion - eventually "won," we reason backwards that it must have looked exceptional from the beginning.
Dark Matter: Shedding Light on Philip Pullman's Trilogy, His Dark Materials
Author:
Book Type: Paperback
2
Author:
Book Type: Paperback
2
Review Date: 2/11/2009
Helpful Score: 3
Watkins gives a brief biography of Pullman and summarizes his works before the HDM trilogy, which serves as background material for his analysis of the major themes of HDM. This section is pretty straightforward. The book gets meatier when he analyzes HDM itself, investigating themes such as truth, innocence and experience, growing up, authority, and the natures of God and consciousness as portrayed in the books. There's also an interesting sidebar about the demons in HDM where Watkins goes through the process most readers have of trying to figure out exactly what Pullman's demons are; I found his comparison of HDM's tripartite human (body/demon/ghost) to the Holy Trinity especially fascinating.
One problem, though: Watkins chides Pullman for misrepresenting the Church and various Christian doctrines (implying more that Pullman hasn't learned enough about them to understand properly rather than that he's deliberately lying). Yet he blithely asserts that a material universe without a higher power can only be deterministic, with no possibility of free will, and that morality can only come from a wholly good God. This ignores the many, many works in which atheists, agnostics, and other non-believers have argued the contrary. If Watkins is aware of these, he ought to have mentioned them even if only to dismiss them. If he hasn't, then I'd say he's also guilty of misrepresentation.
One problem, though: Watkins chides Pullman for misrepresenting the Church and various Christian doctrines (implying more that Pullman hasn't learned enough about them to understand properly rather than that he's deliberately lying). Yet he blithely asserts that a material universe without a higher power can only be deterministic, with no possibility of free will, and that morality can only come from a wholly good God. This ignores the many, many works in which atheists, agnostics, and other non-believers have argued the contrary. If Watkins is aware of these, he ought to have mentioned them even if only to dismiss them. If he hasn't, then I'd say he's also guilty of misrepresentation.
Review Date: 7/25/2010
This is a fun, slightly spooky YA book. Armie is a modern teen, a bit lonely from staying at various boarding schools while his lawyer parents are busy saving the world. (They seem like caring parents who love him, but unfortunately they have important work that gets in the way of spending more time together. They also have good motivation for their work: Armie's father is Armenian and his mother is Shawnee, so they have family experience of tragedy and want to help people in the present avoid that.) Armie thinks most other kids are scared of him, which adds to his loneliness.
His current school is way up north in the woods, which has some advantages. He can go hiking alone if he wants, and spend time with the animals who have always been unusually friendly with him. Then with a fox's help he narrowly escapes a psychic pull to a dark pond deep in the woods, a pond where animal tracks go in but don't come out. He realizes that whatever is in the pond resembles some old legends he's heard, and must find out more so he can escape the pond's pull forever.
I thought Armie was an engaging character, a basically nice kid who thinks everyone sees him as mean, with a great sense of curiosity. The supporting characters were equally engaging, and the pond with its mysterious monster was wonderfully creepy.
His current school is way up north in the woods, which has some advantages. He can go hiking alone if he wants, and spend time with the animals who have always been unusually friendly with him. Then with a fox's help he narrowly escapes a psychic pull to a dark pond deep in the woods, a pond where animal tracks go in but don't come out. He realizes that whatever is in the pond resembles some old legends he's heard, and must find out more so he can escape the pond's pull forever.
I thought Armie was an engaging character, a basically nice kid who thinks everyone sees him as mean, with a great sense of curiosity. The supporting characters were equally engaging, and the pond with its mysterious monster was wonderfully creepy.
Review Date: 7/25/2010
Helpful Score: 2
This is one of my favorite books. It's the second in the series, but set centuries after A Door Into Ocean, so you could probably start here if you wanted.
The main characters are members of the Windclan family: Raincloud, her husband Blackbear, and their children Hawktalon and Sunflower (and Blueskywind, who is born partway through the novel). They're from a mildly matriarchal religious minority group called the Clickers on the planet Bronze Sky. Clicker society values children highly, to the point where it is unusual to see an adult without a child in tow, and I loved how well the children were integrated into the story. They acted like believable children, without being saccharine and annoying.
The Windclans have temporarily moved to one of the contained Elysian cities on the planet Shora, where Raincloud will act as a translator in a sticky political situation with a third, warmongering planet, and Blackbear will join in the Elysians' research on genetic engineering for longevity. It's a culture clash as they try to adjust to living in an enclosed city where children are raised in communal creches away from adults and inhabitants can expect to live a thousand years or more. Shora's native Sharers, who still live on their massive living rafts, have strong opinions about genetic engineering, terraforming, and related topics, and make sure they are heard. Meanwhile, Hawktalon and Sunflower spend time playing with the city's robots; not having preconceived notions about robot intelligence like the adults, they're more willing to believe that when the robots act like people, it's because maybe they are...
This book includes a lot of ideas and ethical debates, but it's all woven into a gripping story involving assassination attempts, banking shenanigans, sit-ins, conspiracies, robot uprisings, and all sorts of other adventures.
The main characters are members of the Windclan family: Raincloud, her husband Blackbear, and their children Hawktalon and Sunflower (and Blueskywind, who is born partway through the novel). They're from a mildly matriarchal religious minority group called the Clickers on the planet Bronze Sky. Clicker society values children highly, to the point where it is unusual to see an adult without a child in tow, and I loved how well the children were integrated into the story. They acted like believable children, without being saccharine and annoying.
The Windclans have temporarily moved to one of the contained Elysian cities on the planet Shora, where Raincloud will act as a translator in a sticky political situation with a third, warmongering planet, and Blackbear will join in the Elysians' research on genetic engineering for longevity. It's a culture clash as they try to adjust to living in an enclosed city where children are raised in communal creches away from adults and inhabitants can expect to live a thousand years or more. Shora's native Sharers, who still live on their massive living rafts, have strong opinions about genetic engineering, terraforming, and related topics, and make sure they are heard. Meanwhile, Hawktalon and Sunflower spend time playing with the city's robots; not having preconceived notions about robot intelligence like the adults, they're more willing to believe that when the robots act like people, it's because maybe they are...
This book includes a lot of ideas and ethical debates, but it's all woven into a gripping story involving assassination attempts, banking shenanigans, sit-ins, conspiracies, robot uprisings, and all sorts of other adventures.
Review Date: 7/17/2011
Helpful Score: 4
This book is an example of what I mean when I tell people history is like a detective story: you don't have all the information, your witnesses might be mistaken or lying (and/or dead), you might not have a body, and you can probably piece together several plausible explanations of whodunnit.
In this book, a Scotland Yard detective who's stuck in the hospital starts investigating Richard III, and discovers that the one-sentence accounts his old schoolbooks gave (basically, "Richard was bad and killed his brother and the princes") are covering up a much more complicated story of missing information, bias, and propaganda. A lot of textbook-style history is like this, which is a shame, because it's so much more interesting when you don't try to force it into a simplistic, pre-determined story with no room for doubt or alternate interpretations!
For anyone who wants to know more about the history and debates over Richard III, you can check out the non-fiction account in "Royal Blood: Richard III and the Mystery of the Princes" by Bertram Fields.
In this book, a Scotland Yard detective who's stuck in the hospital starts investigating Richard III, and discovers that the one-sentence accounts his old schoolbooks gave (basically, "Richard was bad and killed his brother and the princes") are covering up a much more complicated story of missing information, bias, and propaganda. A lot of textbook-style history is like this, which is a shame, because it's so much more interesting when you don't try to force it into a simplistic, pre-determined story with no room for doubt or alternate interpretations!
For anyone who wants to know more about the history and debates over Richard III, you can check out the non-fiction account in "Royal Blood: Richard III and the Mystery of the Princes" by Bertram Fields.
Review Date: 7/25/2010
Helpful Score: 2
This is a quiet, contemplative book.
In the prologue, an old woman - a Quaker living in Latin America - struggles with her decision to join the Quakers' generation ship. The main portion of the book takes place generations later, when the ship has reached the planet it was aiming for. The narrative alternates between members of one of the families on board as the community struggles to decide whether to settle on the planet or to keep going. Life on the ship is cozy, with a warm climate and small farms, while the planet's climate is cold and harsh, but the ship's systems are slowly degrading. The debate is putting a great strain on the community and everyone's relationships, but staying confined on the ship for generations more may not be psychologically feasible, no matter how cozy it is.
In the prologue, an old woman - a Quaker living in Latin America - struggles with her decision to join the Quakers' generation ship. The main portion of the book takes place generations later, when the ship has reached the planet it was aiming for. The narrative alternates between members of one of the families on board as the community struggles to decide whether to settle on the planet or to keep going. Life on the ship is cozy, with a warm climate and small farms, while the planet's climate is cold and harsh, but the ship's systems are slowly degrading. The debate is putting a great strain on the community and everyone's relationships, but staying confined on the ship for generations more may not be psychologically feasible, no matter how cozy it is.
Review Date: 7/31/2010
This is one of my favorite books, along with its sequel Daughter of Elysium.
The book takes place on the Earthlike planet Valedon and its ocean-covered moon, Shora. The Valans have a socially stratified society which ranges from noble families in shiny urban environments (with the not-so-shiny parts and the poor kept carefully hidden from casual visitors) to dusty little rural towns. Spinel, the son of a stonecutter, lives in one of these little towns, not sure how good his prospects for the future are. Then one day two Sharers from Shora arrive and sit under a tree in the main square which one of the merchants jealously guards as his alone. Problem is, the Sharers don't have quite the same conception of property as the Valans... Soon the Sharers have offered to take Spinel back to Shora as a sort of apprentice/foster son - which his parents think is a great opportunity, since they can't really provide for him if he doesn't get an apprenticeship, and the Sharers are known for their amazing medicines and other valuable trade goods.
It's a major culture clash. The Sharers don't understand deliberate violence, to the point where they don't even have a word for murder - the closest term is "hastening death" - or autocratic control or poverty or many other things Spinel takes for granted. (This doesn't mean that they're all nice and get along, or that they have life perfectly figured out, mind.) Besides that, they live on giant living raft-trees in the ocean, and he can barely swim! He's never had so much seafood in his life, either. At first, the Sharers look low-tech to Spinel, but soon prove to have highly advanced biotechnology. Which it turns out they use to reproduce, since they haven't had men for thousands of years. (This means they aren't sure what to make of Spinel sometimes, but they come to accept him.) And the Sharers are getting fed up with Valedon's trade policies - they get the idea of sharing items so both parties get something they value, and have been trading their seasilk and medicines for metal cables (to tether the starworms which drive the rafts) and gems for a while. Unfortunately, since stone is unknown on their ocean world, some Sharers have become "stonesick" - obsessed with gems. Many Sharers favor closing off all contact with Valedon. Spinel finds himself in the middle of an invasion when Valedon decides it's time to take over Shora to keep the trade going, on their terms, and the Sharers respond with mass non-violent resistance.
Also caught in the middle of this is Berenice of Hyalite House of Valedon, Nisi to the Sharers. Her fiancee is in charge of the invasion, but she was raised mainly on Shora (her family opened trade with the Sharers), and her loyalties are divided.
It's a great story with adventure, epic non-battles, kids learning to grow up, revolution, really neat biotech, and lots of characters struggling with divided loyalties and ethical problems.
Slonczewski has a study guide with some details about Shora's ecology, traditional language and gender polarities and how they're resolved in the book, inspirations for the book in other classic sf (mainly Herbert and Le Guin), and real-world examples of pacifism and non-violent resistance: http://biology.kenyon.edu/slonc/books/adoor_art/adoor_study.htm
The book takes place on the Earthlike planet Valedon and its ocean-covered moon, Shora. The Valans have a socially stratified society which ranges from noble families in shiny urban environments (with the not-so-shiny parts and the poor kept carefully hidden from casual visitors) to dusty little rural towns. Spinel, the son of a stonecutter, lives in one of these little towns, not sure how good his prospects for the future are. Then one day two Sharers from Shora arrive and sit under a tree in the main square which one of the merchants jealously guards as his alone. Problem is, the Sharers don't have quite the same conception of property as the Valans... Soon the Sharers have offered to take Spinel back to Shora as a sort of apprentice/foster son - which his parents think is a great opportunity, since they can't really provide for him if he doesn't get an apprenticeship, and the Sharers are known for their amazing medicines and other valuable trade goods.
It's a major culture clash. The Sharers don't understand deliberate violence, to the point where they don't even have a word for murder - the closest term is "hastening death" - or autocratic control or poverty or many other things Spinel takes for granted. (This doesn't mean that they're all nice and get along, or that they have life perfectly figured out, mind.) Besides that, they live on giant living raft-trees in the ocean, and he can barely swim! He's never had so much seafood in his life, either. At first, the Sharers look low-tech to Spinel, but soon prove to have highly advanced biotechnology. Which it turns out they use to reproduce, since they haven't had men for thousands of years. (This means they aren't sure what to make of Spinel sometimes, but they come to accept him.) And the Sharers are getting fed up with Valedon's trade policies - they get the idea of sharing items so both parties get something they value, and have been trading their seasilk and medicines for metal cables (to tether the starworms which drive the rafts) and gems for a while. Unfortunately, since stone is unknown on their ocean world, some Sharers have become "stonesick" - obsessed with gems. Many Sharers favor closing off all contact with Valedon. Spinel finds himself in the middle of an invasion when Valedon decides it's time to take over Shora to keep the trade going, on their terms, and the Sharers respond with mass non-violent resistance.
Also caught in the middle of this is Berenice of Hyalite House of Valedon, Nisi to the Sharers. Her fiancee is in charge of the invasion, but she was raised mainly on Shora (her family opened trade with the Sharers), and her loyalties are divided.
It's a great story with adventure, epic non-battles, kids learning to grow up, revolution, really neat biotech, and lots of characters struggling with divided loyalties and ethical problems.
Slonczewski has a study guide with some details about Shora's ecology, traditional language and gender polarities and how they're resolved in the book, inspirations for the book in other classic sf (mainly Herbert and Le Guin), and real-world examples of pacifism and non-violent resistance: http://biology.kenyon.edu/slonc/books/adoor_art/adoor_study.htm
Review Date: 7/31/2010
Helpful Score: 1
I enjoyed this book and the rest of the series, with reservations.
I picked it up because I heard it was heavily inspired by the real-world Wars of the Roses, which sounded excellent. I'd also heard it praised for its unusual subtly, complexity, and worldbuilding.
I'll grant the second two. Even admitting that Martin has vastly simplified the conflicting web of feudal obligations and trade and economics*, there's a lot going on here. The story involves vast political upheavals in multiple kingdoms and scads of characters - and yes, most of them are relevant, because Martin shows how seemingly small decisions in one place ripple outward into huge events, as well as how much things that happened years ago still influence people's decisions in the present. I also loved the setup of the years-long seasons, the giant ice wall in the north keeping out the barbarian hordes, the mysterious Cold Ones, and the characters' knowledge that inevitably, Winter Is Coming. And it's going to be bad. Also, Martin undermines a few fantasy tropes, showing the dark side of those noble knights with their fancy armor. There are also lots of legends and songs about the old days, which contradict each other, but probably all have some truth in them, and it's fun trying to puzzle out exactly how they'll apply.
But I thought a lot of plot twists that so many people have praised as shocking and unexpected were dead obvious. Of course we know the spoiled noble in the prologue is going to bite it while patrolling past the Wall - I don't think that surprised anyone. But then, right at the beginning of the book, the Stark children find a litter of direwolves, conveniently with one cub for each child, and one pure-white cub for the bastard son just in case anyone forgot he didn't quite fit in. The cubs are next to their mother, who has a stag's antler through her throat. The direwolf is the symbol of House Stark, and the stag is the symbol of the royal House Baratheon. Gee, I wonder how this book is going to turn out? And that's even if you aren't looking for the Ricardian parallels, which make certain things even more dead obvious. That's the kind of "subtlety" I found throughout. Other mysteries and plot twists aren't solvable or guessable this early in the series, because we haven't (for instance) even heard of some of the characters involved yet, or other crucial information.
There are some bits more subtle than that, to be fair, and a lot of striking imagery. I tried looking at the story as not a surprise-twist adventure, but a tragedy all the more tragic because of its inevitability, which helped me enjoy it more.
*For a look at the real medieval world economy, check out Before European Hegemony: The World System 1250-1350. As for feudal obligations, I'll just note that you could swear fealty to multiple lords at the same time, with one designated as your "liege lord." This could make things very complicated if your lords started fighting.
I picked it up because I heard it was heavily inspired by the real-world Wars of the Roses, which sounded excellent. I'd also heard it praised for its unusual subtly, complexity, and worldbuilding.
I'll grant the second two. Even admitting that Martin has vastly simplified the conflicting web of feudal obligations and trade and economics*, there's a lot going on here. The story involves vast political upheavals in multiple kingdoms and scads of characters - and yes, most of them are relevant, because Martin shows how seemingly small decisions in one place ripple outward into huge events, as well as how much things that happened years ago still influence people's decisions in the present. I also loved the setup of the years-long seasons, the giant ice wall in the north keeping out the barbarian hordes, the mysterious Cold Ones, and the characters' knowledge that inevitably, Winter Is Coming. And it's going to be bad. Also, Martin undermines a few fantasy tropes, showing the dark side of those noble knights with their fancy armor. There are also lots of legends and songs about the old days, which contradict each other, but probably all have some truth in them, and it's fun trying to puzzle out exactly how they'll apply.
But I thought a lot of plot twists that so many people have praised as shocking and unexpected were dead obvious. Of course we know the spoiled noble in the prologue is going to bite it while patrolling past the Wall - I don't think that surprised anyone. But then, right at the beginning of the book, the Stark children find a litter of direwolves, conveniently with one cub for each child, and one pure-white cub for the bastard son just in case anyone forgot he didn't quite fit in. The cubs are next to their mother, who has a stag's antler through her throat. The direwolf is the symbol of House Stark, and the stag is the symbol of the royal House Baratheon. Gee, I wonder how this book is going to turn out? And that's even if you aren't looking for the Ricardian parallels, which make certain things even more dead obvious. That's the kind of "subtlety" I found throughout. Other mysteries and plot twists aren't solvable or guessable this early in the series, because we haven't (for instance) even heard of some of the characters involved yet, or other crucial information.
There are some bits more subtle than that, to be fair, and a lot of striking imagery. I tried looking at the story as not a surprise-twist adventure, but a tragedy all the more tragic because of its inevitability, which helped me enjoy it more.
*For a look at the real medieval world economy, check out Before European Hegemony: The World System 1250-1350. As for feudal obligations, I'll just note that you could swear fealty to multiple lords at the same time, with one designated as your "liege lord." This could make things very complicated if your lords started fighting.
Review Date: 7/31/2010
Helpful Score: 1
This was a fascinating book, if scientifically dodgy in parts.
In the post-apocalyptic future, women lead in the new towns while boys above five and most men stay enclosed in their barracks except for occasions when the go out to fight each other. On reaching adulthood, they have the option of returning to "Women's Country" in the town as servitors, who seem to be treated pretty well but definitely aren't equal citizens. (Lately the men have started noticing that more and more of their youths are deciding to go back to Women's Country, which disturbs them.) The women's intention (at least, somewhat - there's more to it which we discover later) is to keep men from destroying civilization again, while still giving them some outlet for aggression and having some protection for the town should they ever need it. And yes, it's presented as a dodgy situation.
The women put all their energy into rebuilding civilization and trying to make sure such a dramatic collapse can't happen again: to preserve skills and knowledge, every woman must become an expert in at least three fields (an art, a science, and a craft), and they have continuing education classes their whole lives. Reproduction is fairly regulated: each woman has three children (conceived during an annual carnival in which they get to mingle with the men), and once a town reaches a given size, some of the population goes and founds a new town on the border of the non-reclaimed areas. It's to Tepper's credit that she shows both the good reasons they run things this way and the downsides - for instance, Stavia's sister has issues, but it's recognized that if she'd been allowed to focus on her passion for dance instead of being forced to spend so much time on two other fields, she might have had a better time of it.
The narrative jumps back and forth between different points in Stavia's life, from childhood until the day her son refuses to return through the door to Women's Country because he likes being a macho warrior too much. A major element is Stavia's forbidden friendship (later romance) with a boy inside the barracks, who quickly shows himself to be one of those people you meet who seem nice until you have opinions that differ from theirs, and then they act hurt that you're being so unreasonable and you start doubting yourself and feel like you have to forgive them or you are just being mean. And somehow it compromise always means you cave to their wishes, never the other way around or something in the middle. It's a frustrating dynamic which a lot of us can probably relate to!
Meanwhile, other parts of the world start intruding into Stavia's life - the roving bands outside the towns, which include some women who ran away to live "free" (sometimes this works as advertised, and often not), a few decent traveling traders and such, and waaaaay out in the hills somewhere, a tiny town in which a a nasty theocratic patriarchy runs the show. But it isn't as simple as "out there bad, our towns good" - as I said, Women's Country is a bit dodgy itself, and Stavia starts learning exactly how much.
My main beef with this book is that it relies heavily on biological determinism - most men are "naturally" violent, and most women "naturally" aren't. There's a tiny bit of sketchy evidence that violent behavior may be someone influenced by genetics, but as far as I know, the nurture side is much more important than the nature side. I don't think it's nearly as clear-cut as the book makes it out to be, and so I doubt The Plan would actually work (I can't explain better without spoilers). There's also a totally gratuitous one-line reference by a character stating that homosexuality is a "genetic defect" which they can "fix." I suppose you could read this as another example of Women's Country having some really sketchy views and policies on reproduction, but it came across as an unnecessary barb.
The bits about their annual play, a retelling of the aftermath of the Trojan War with the now-ghost women as major characters, were neat, though.
In the post-apocalyptic future, women lead in the new towns while boys above five and most men stay enclosed in their barracks except for occasions when the go out to fight each other. On reaching adulthood, they have the option of returning to "Women's Country" in the town as servitors, who seem to be treated pretty well but definitely aren't equal citizens. (Lately the men have started noticing that more and more of their youths are deciding to go back to Women's Country, which disturbs them.) The women's intention (at least, somewhat - there's more to it which we discover later) is to keep men from destroying civilization again, while still giving them some outlet for aggression and having some protection for the town should they ever need it. And yes, it's presented as a dodgy situation.
The women put all their energy into rebuilding civilization and trying to make sure such a dramatic collapse can't happen again: to preserve skills and knowledge, every woman must become an expert in at least three fields (an art, a science, and a craft), and they have continuing education classes their whole lives. Reproduction is fairly regulated: each woman has three children (conceived during an annual carnival in which they get to mingle with the men), and once a town reaches a given size, some of the population goes and founds a new town on the border of the non-reclaimed areas. It's to Tepper's credit that she shows both the good reasons they run things this way and the downsides - for instance, Stavia's sister has issues, but it's recognized that if she'd been allowed to focus on her passion for dance instead of being forced to spend so much time on two other fields, she might have had a better time of it.
The narrative jumps back and forth between different points in Stavia's life, from childhood until the day her son refuses to return through the door to Women's Country because he likes being a macho warrior too much. A major element is Stavia's forbidden friendship (later romance) with a boy inside the barracks, who quickly shows himself to be one of those people you meet who seem nice until you have opinions that differ from theirs, and then they act hurt that you're being so unreasonable and you start doubting yourself and feel like you have to forgive them or you are just being mean. And somehow it compromise always means you cave to their wishes, never the other way around or something in the middle. It's a frustrating dynamic which a lot of us can probably relate to!
Meanwhile, other parts of the world start intruding into Stavia's life - the roving bands outside the towns, which include some women who ran away to live "free" (sometimes this works as advertised, and often not), a few decent traveling traders and such, and waaaaay out in the hills somewhere, a tiny town in which a a nasty theocratic patriarchy runs the show. But it isn't as simple as "out there bad, our towns good" - as I said, Women's Country is a bit dodgy itself, and Stavia starts learning exactly how much.
My main beef with this book is that it relies heavily on biological determinism - most men are "naturally" violent, and most women "naturally" aren't. There's a tiny bit of sketchy evidence that violent behavior may be someone influenced by genetics, but as far as I know, the nurture side is much more important than the nature side. I don't think it's nearly as clear-cut as the book makes it out to be, and so I doubt The Plan would actually work (I can't explain better without spoilers). There's also a totally gratuitous one-line reference by a character stating that homosexuality is a "genetic defect" which they can "fix." I suppose you could read this as another example of Women's Country having some really sketchy views and policies on reproduction, but it came across as an unnecessary barb.
The bits about their annual play, a retelling of the aftermath of the Trojan War with the now-ghost women as major characters, were neat, though.
Review Date: 6/30/2016
What an amazing collection! I'd read "Free Jim's Mine" in the "Long Hidden" anthology (which you should also read, because it's amazing too), but most of these stories were new to me.
They range from the "like a scary campfire story but with deeper resonance" feel of "Free Jim's Mine" to magic realism with a horror twist to post-apocalyptic stories where characters desperately try to maintain human connection in the face of zombies or devastating plague. All are beautifully written. It's like a box of chocolates, except sometimes the chocolates are heartbreaking or creepy.
Also, as a bonus, the story "Danger Word" was turned into a short film! Check it out on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jPwwskSwy8g
Highly recommended.
They range from the "like a scary campfire story but with deeper resonance" feel of "Free Jim's Mine" to magic realism with a horror twist to post-apocalyptic stories where characters desperately try to maintain human connection in the face of zombies or devastating plague. All are beautifully written. It's like a box of chocolates, except sometimes the chocolates are heartbreaking or creepy.
Also, as a bonus, the story "Danger Word" was turned into a short film! Check it out on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jPwwskSwy8g
Highly recommended.
Review Date: 7/31/2010
I loved this book. First, it's that great classic combination of intrigue, adventure, and a young person growing up and learning how to be independent. What takes it beyond readability are the engaging writing, sympathetic characters, and some unexpected avoidance of cliches I've come to expect.
Katsa is the king's enforcer/executioner. She hates the job and herself a bit for doing it, but at the beginning doesn't see how to break free of his control. So in her spare time, she's formed a secret council that does good deeds under cover of darkness in an attempt to undo some of the harm she and the king have done. A mission introduces her to Prince Po and a boatload of conspiracy and intrigue, which naturally leads to them going on a mission to find out the truth and possibly rescue a few people and topple a monarchy.
The Seven Kingdoms are like many Fantasylands with their vaguely medieval setups, but Cashore doesn't always follow the script, fortunately. Like many fantasy heroines, Katsa doesn't like wearing dresses - but only because they get in the way of her work, not because she thinks dresses are inherently evil creations. She quite likes her nurse, who is very much pro-dress. She doesn't want to get married - not because she hates men, but because the legal aspects of marriage in her society are unfair, and she thinks that would wreck even a good relationship where she and the guy wanted to treat each other as equals. She doesn't want children either - not because she doesn't like kids; in fact, she likes them fine and acts as a mentor and protector to a girl for part of the book. She just doesn't want her own. And when on her travels she encounters women who are not sure how to protect themselves after their husbands or sons have disappeared (or whatever), she doesn't side with the many fantasy heroines who gripe about how useless those girls are. She wonders why people don't train their daughters in self-defense and force them to be dependent on others to protect themselves, which is not a foolproof system by a long shot. And being Katsa, you know she'll try to fix this, too.
Also, the villain was one of the scariest villains I've seen in a while, and he wasn't quite typical either. He didn't live in a brooding fortress, or ride into battle, or go around randomly stabbing peasants to show us how evil he is, or spend piles of gold on gluttonous feasts and fancy clothes, or even bribe people to hide his evil deeds.
I also enjoyed the prequel, Fire, and am looking forward to the release of the sequel Bitterblue.
Katsa is the king's enforcer/executioner. She hates the job and herself a bit for doing it, but at the beginning doesn't see how to break free of his control. So in her spare time, she's formed a secret council that does good deeds under cover of darkness in an attempt to undo some of the harm she and the king have done. A mission introduces her to Prince Po and a boatload of conspiracy and intrigue, which naturally leads to them going on a mission to find out the truth and possibly rescue a few people and topple a monarchy.
The Seven Kingdoms are like many Fantasylands with their vaguely medieval setups, but Cashore doesn't always follow the script, fortunately. Like many fantasy heroines, Katsa doesn't like wearing dresses - but only because they get in the way of her work, not because she thinks dresses are inherently evil creations. She quite likes her nurse, who is very much pro-dress. She doesn't want to get married - not because she hates men, but because the legal aspects of marriage in her society are unfair, and she thinks that would wreck even a good relationship where she and the guy wanted to treat each other as equals. She doesn't want children either - not because she doesn't like kids; in fact, she likes them fine and acts as a mentor and protector to a girl for part of the book. She just doesn't want her own. And when on her travels she encounters women who are not sure how to protect themselves after their husbands or sons have disappeared (or whatever), she doesn't side with the many fantasy heroines who gripe about how useless those girls are. She wonders why people don't train their daughters in self-defense and force them to be dependent on others to protect themselves, which is not a foolproof system by a long shot. And being Katsa, you know she'll try to fix this, too.
Also, the villain was one of the scariest villains I've seen in a while, and he wasn't quite typical either. He didn't live in a brooding fortress, or ride into battle, or go around randomly stabbing peasants to show us how evil he is, or spend piles of gold on gluttonous feasts and fancy clothes, or even bribe people to hide his evil deeds.
I also enjoyed the prequel, Fire, and am looking forward to the release of the sequel Bitterblue.
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