Laith
This is How You Lose the Time War is a Novella that is unique in the SF genre, it puts romance and prose ahead of all other elements, and it manages to deliver a compelling narrative with minimal world-building and hardly any emphasis on plot. It's fair to say that most SF works place their priorities in exactly the opposite configuration, so to call this book intriguing is an understatement to be sure.
To frame the premise, this is a queer-enemies-to-lovers story centering on two spies/agents on opposing sides of a war across time. Is there a little bit of the ol' “tick-the-boxes- this is Steven in marketing and he's going to help you sell this puppy,” razzle dazzle? Yes. Is the Novella content to let its premise dictate the direction of its narrative and structure? No way. The story is delivered through alternating passages, ingenious love letters from Red to Blue, and vice versa, each crammed full of literary reference and prosodic suggestion. If there were ever a novella that needed an annotated edition it's this one. I think that for each hour I spent reading a chapter I spent another hour looking things up, especially for some of the more literary references. Allusion rife abounds, and it's a double-edged sword- if much of the meaning is caught up in allusion and reference to other works, then the books run the chance of having that meaning lost. Thankfully despite how much reference is crammed into each letter, the sentiment and narrative manage to punch through.
When I first picked this novella up, I ripped through the first quarter like it was a white powdery substance and I was Carrie Fisher. I was immediately impressed by the presentation and the language, and I was excited to see where and how the plot would develop alongside the romance. I guess I didn't know what I was in for, because the further I went the less engaging I found it to be. This book subverted my expectations, where I thought I was getting Terminator meets The Lake House, what I actually got was Jane Austen writing Primer, and I thought Jane Eyre was a snooze fest best relegated to the back halls of the Library of Congress. That's not to say I didn't enjoy the story; for as little experience as I have with the romance genre, even I could appreciate how carefully crafted and beautiful each missive between agents is. But this isn't just a romance novel, it's Romance, it's poetry.
Never has a story transported me back to my collegiate writing seminars quite like this one, the more I read, the more I thought to myself, “This would totally kill in a workshop.” That's a backhanded compliment; I won't go so far as to say that this book is all style and no substance because it is substantial, it's just not my cup of tea. This book read to me like a collegiate exercise, a Capstone publication, impressive and exquisite for sure, but lacking in the pulpy flavor I crave from my SF. If I'd wanted to read Dickens, I'd have read Dickens, if I'd wanted to read Austen, I'd have read Austen, and if I want to read a book about the Time War well maybe it should BE about the Time War. Jake Brookins' review put it best,
“even if SF stories don't follow their worlds' particular Chosen Ones, it's customary to fill the reader in on the larger picture—at least beyond short story lengths. So, it's startling, for those used to at least a strong whiff of monomyth and systematic subcreation, to spend so much time with characters losing interest in the war, and a narrative that seeks to escape rather than explain its world.”
This was another book I read on a recommendation and wound up enjoying more than I thought I would. Discworld has always been a bit of an intimidating series to me so I was a little hesitant to pick this up on my own. First of all, it's sprawling, there are 41 entries, something like 5 or 6 different storylines, and a reading order that gives me a headache. More importantly, it's foundational, this is a series that apparently everyone but me has read and loved, it parodies and has been parodied in a million other works- and here I was, worried it might read a little dated, and then I'd be the only person I know that doesn't like Discworld.
Thankfully my worries were unfounded; The Color of Magic is like reading a rollercoaster. This book was only 228 pages but I had to take my time with it because almost every page had something insanely interesting and imaginative on it. Rincewind and Twoflower are a whirlwind that tears through the Discworld, at such a breakneck pace that I had to take a moment to remind myself of the setting and context with every new development. I can safely say that I was never once bored reading this, and if I find out that someone was, I would strongly recommend they donate their body to science. That said, the pacing is definitely a double-edged sword, I could totally see some readers being put off by the sheer volume of insane developments and the sudden changes in setting/plot/narration/universe.
Every time this series has come up in conversation (usually they're Brits) it's always been something along the lines of, “This is such a killer series, I absolutely devoured it as a kid.” I'm jealous! I wish so desperately that someone had plopped this book down in front of me as a wee lad, I think that I would have dropped everything and finished the series given the chance. As an adult, the humor agrees with me, and I really enjoyed the non-conformity of the story structure. For a young and impressionable mind, it's books like this that are the kind to really open a door, and for me in particular this could have been something akin to The Animorphs or Harry Potter.
I'll definitely work my way through the rest of the Rincewind storylines, and I am keen to read Mort as well!
I liked The Martian in both book and movie form and as a follow-up, this book was better in almost every way. I was locked in the entire time; first-person narratives are probably the most fascinating things you can read, and when it's done right it's basically crack.
I can't think of a single thing I didn't like about this book. I like that we aren't frontloaded with context and story, instead, it throws us right into the action alongside our lovable amnesiac middle-school teacher-cum-astronaut. What unfolds is arguably one of the best portrayals of science in science fiction as well as one of my all-time favorite first-contact interactions. I actually did very little research coming in, so when this turned out to be a first contact story I did take a big nerdy breath; to then have it be so good was incredibly rewarding.
I will give the science element one additional note, I am not sure how scientifically sound all of that stuff was (I'm not a subject matter expert) but it helped to set this story apart from some of the “harder” SF novels, and it's a tremendous shoutout to teachers everywhere (I'd reckon half the book is teacher shoutouts)
It was a smart choice to give the narrator the amnesia, with story altering context being introduced in real-time. Having the backstory delivered in this way helped to break up the pacing and keep us in suspense without wasting the reader's time. There was a lot of time and attention given to keeping the story moving without bogging us down in the science and backstory, still managing to deliver that information while keeping it consistent and grounded.
If I had one complaint it would be the ending but only because I felt such a desperate story deserved an equally happy ending. I really was hoping that Grace would make it back home but what we got wasn't far off, and despite the overly optimistic portrayal given to the Eridians I found the interactions between Grace and Rocky to be heartwarming, and their impact on the story to be logically consistent. The amount of altruism required for everything to go the way it went was astonishing, and that hopeful message was enough for me.
This is a seriously good read.
I saw that a lot of people were reading this book recently and after reading the fantastic summary I figured I'd jump on the bandwagon. I'm glad I did because this was an engaging read the whole way through; I'm not sure if I would rank it as a modern classic but it's well-written and accessible.
After reading about intelligent spiders and super-advanced AIs for the last few months, it was nice to pull back and read a book with a simple, but incredible premise. One day every person over 22 is inexplicably given a box that contains a string whose length is a representation of that person's lifespan. The Measure simultaneously evokes 2009's The Box and 2011's In Time, but this book is far better than either film in its exploration of humanity and its character writing. The story is delivered as a multi-narrative, and it's the perfect structure to pair with such a premise as you get to see the effects of the strings across a cross-section of well-developed characters.
The writing was a standout feature of this book. Despite the large ensemble, each of the primary narratives has exquisite characterization and truly gripping dialogue; the multitude of stories interweave in the most unexpected ways all the while peppering in gorgeous vignettes and personal stories. The passion of the author is evident in how they connect each interaction and character development to the larger narrative, effectively illustrating their points. There are several intelligent choices as far as story structure and narrative design that impressed me, and the degree to which all the stories connect (even in the smallest ways) is something I wish more authors aspired to achieve.
A core issue I had with the book is its lack of depth in exploring oppression and division. Although some characters are “short-stringers,” their struggle primarily revolves around loss rather than oppression. The author briefly touches on the topic during a support group session in the ‘Fall' section, where Maura questions why they (the short-stringers) have to be the only ones fighting for change when short-stringers already have enough to deal with. However, this message falls flat as most of the following chapters focus more on the characters' romantic relationships rather than exploring the strings' larger effects on the world. Overall, while the book touches on important themes, it could benefit from delving deeper into the experiences of the oppressed characters.
Another issue I had was that the book comes across as preachy and opinionated, an observation that may resonate with some readers. That's not to discount the poignant and heartfelt message, because after all what better, or more appropriate place is there to speak to your truth than in your own novel? I would simply note that the tone can, at times, slip into condescension. As a speculative work, it presents a believable future, but the rhetoric (especially in the early chapters) reflects the current state of the world, and, despite being relatable, tends to evoke derision and exhaustion in me. The book's main message is about how we create unnecessary divisions, but the constant preaching detracts from the complexity and nuance of that message. Although I agree with the author's viewpoints, the allegory and delivery can feel like a purity test at times. It's important to note this flaw, especially given recent instances of book banning. Conservative readers may dismiss this book as “woke fiction” or something equally unfounded.
Thankfully most of the novel is a web of beauty and tragedy that does its best to bridge gaps in ideology with moments of humanity. There is a tapestry of fate that's woven within the narrative, mirroring the string's prominent role in the story. Looking past some of the sloppy messaging, there is a gorgeous and multifaceted collection of stories to get lost in. There are some truly touching moments towards the end of the book that appear like mana for the faithful, a reward for readers that stuck through the Sunday service. Each character's journey evokes a thoughtful pause and in some cases, all but forces the reader to put the book down and think.
Qué será, será
Whatever will be, will be
TL;DR: This that good good. A big beautiful tapestry of a book, that despite being a little on the nose delivers heartfelt moments and leaves you thoughtful and teary-eyed.
This was a powerful and moving book. I didn't think that I would find Michelle's story so relatable given my non-Korean heritage and my still-kicking parents; I was caught by surprise with every nostalgic jolt I got each time she'd recall wandering through aisles of foreign food, having people search her face for traces of her heritage, or being resentful of the language barrier (and for not paying more attention in language school). I had no trouble placing myself in her shoes and my reward was a depth of experience and a richness of emotion that I don't often get in the types of books I typically read. As I move forward this will be my gold standard for memoirs, the bar that all others will be measured against.
There is so much stuff in just 256 pages to unpack: there's growing up in the US as an immigrant, finding an identity, and questioning your parents, there's the death of her mother and her mournful journey, and there's her love of music and art and its place her life. What resonated the most for me were the questions of identity. As a son of immigrants, I could really relate to a childhood full of foreign sounds and smells, and tastes; I also remember the looks of relatives and new acquaintances as they searched me for clues of heritage and race. The tales of a rebellious youth that by American standards wasn't very rebellious at all reminded me of my own search for agency and meaning, and how difficult it was for my parents to relate. Michelle Zauner does an incredible job explaining the pressure to be Korean that invaded all facets of her life and identity, the struggle of growing up separated from the society and social mores that her parents adhered to (and in turn now expect her to adhere to) for so much of their lives.
More than anything else this book made me want to hug my mom and spend a weekend eating meals that I desperately need to learn to make. Her connection to her mother through food absolutely rang true for me, and I imagine it rings true for everyone. Her connection to her culture through food was another element that I found myself nodding along in agreement to, what's a Korean without Kimchi and Banchan or an Arab without Hummus and a million little salads. I couldn't help thinking that I am just the same, most of my cultural memory is food related and all my highlights from trips to the motherland are wrapped up in memories of delicious things. This book will if nothing else get you to try a few Korean recipes, some of the meals she describes made my mouth water as I imagined along with her.
TL;DR: It will make you sad and it will make you hungry. Hug your mom and eat her cooking as much as you can while you still can. When the day comes that you can't do those things anymore, the best thing for it, is to make that food for yourself.
This book has been sitting on my shelf for ages and I am so glad that I bumped it up in the reading order. I don't think I've ever read such a compelling introduction to a book; the first third of this book is solid gold. I love the premise: the dying embers of a forgotten earth making their way to a long promised Eden in their jury-rigged colony ship, earth's last hope, the Gilgamesh-only to find their Eden swarming with intelligent spiders and an insane AI construct babbling about its precious monkeys.
I find it hard to review books that I really enjoyed because I'm tempted summarize the whole thing. I will try to limit myself in saying that this is a fantastic space opera-hot house/dying earth-apocalypse story. It's a story that concerns itself with humanity as a construct, our hubris, and our place in the cosmos; more than anything this is a story of survival. Premise aside the real draw here is the writing, the prose is immaculate, and there is a quiet tension that builds to a terrifying crescendo as the story accelerates through the centuries. There is a very dry and sardonic humor which pervades the entire story that is most noticeable whenever Doctor Kerns is on the scene; the mad AI screams and the constant monkey-this-and-monkey-that were as hilarious as they were spine chilling (this was extremely well done in the audiobook).
I had a few gripes as the story transitioned out of its first act; personally I didn't agree with the direction the plot takes and some of the decisions made by the characters didn't align with what I would have chosen to do- but I don't think that's a knock against the quality of the book or the writing. What did bother me was that it seemed like these alternative courses of action were something a proofer asked after, and instead of accommodating them in the dialogue, we got a line or two of throw-away exposition to explain that choice away. The only major complaint I had was that the pacing isn't perfect and the middle section does drag as the crew of the Gilgamesh has their story backfilled. That means the crew sections of the story are dragging down the evolutionary world building but I think it's more than a fair trade.
TL;DR: Probably the best first act of anything I've read lately. A little slow in the middle but generally a fantastic read. Arachnophobes should probably pass on this series.
A full length novel for Murderbot! My main complaint through the novellas was that each story was just too short and finally I got an uninterrupted full length story to sit in MB's passenger seat. I love reading from MB's perspective, I love how we never leave its side and all the information we receive is coloured by its particular brand of paranoia. Of course it's not paranoia if they're really out to get you.
It's fun to see Murderbot grow as its own conscious entity and giving it a full novel to interact with some of its favorite humans (and its favorite ship) has done a lot to enhance the human element of their character. This is not the same Murderbot from All Systems Red, its growth has been subtle so far and in this novel we see how these new relationships have made their impact. But make no mistake, this story at its core is basically the Brave Little Toaster gets downright murderous. I eagerly await the next full length novel in this series, I am curious to see Murderbot evolve even further.
After my Culture binge I guess I didn't get enough space opera because I went straight to Reynolds. This book was sold to me as one of Reynold's best works, and a great book to decide if you want more. I think I can sign off on parts of that endorsement; this is a great story that definitely evokes Banks in the world building department and surpasses Banks when it comes to plotting and pacing. It is self contained and exquisite, and while I haven't read any of his other works I got the sense that this book really was the perfect taster for Reynolds.
That said I don't know if I am sold on Reynolds, this story was not any longer than a Culture novel but it didn't hit quite the same and felt long. I figured that a story about incestuous clones attending a galactic family reunion would be funnier, or at least bring along a little levity, but this is absolutely meat and potatoes sci-fi.
I did find the concept of shatterlings, 1000 male and female clones of one person made into immortal space faring explorers, to be iconic and wildly imaginative- if a little narcissistic and implausible. This book also gave us a little taste of Reynolds' belief in the hard limit of light speed, and his reasoning and extrapolation managed to make an entire galaxy feel stifling and small.
I still plan to read revelation space but I think I will kick that can down the road a bit.
“So basically you're sticking around to watch us all fuck up ?”
“Yes. It's one of life's few guaranteed constants.”
I feel like I've summited Everest, one of my reading goals for the year was to finish the Culture series and it feels bittersweet. The Hydrogen Sonata is the last book in the series and it's quite fitting despite not being the planned conclusion for the series. Reading through this book I got the sense that this was something Banks wrote on or near his death bed, but that is not the case. It was after the publication of this book in 2012 that Iain Banks was diagnosed with gall bladder cancer, his condition rapidly deteriorated and he died in June 2013. It's fitting then (almost serendipitous) that this book is about the end of a civilization.
The story is centered around the Gzilt, one of the oldest civilizations in the galaxy, who are on the verge of performing the Sublimation, a mysterious process that would elevate them to a higher level of existence beyond the physical world. However, just before they can undergo the Sublimation, a question arises about the authenticity of their sacred text, the “Book of Truth,” and a Gzilt citizen, Vyr Cossant, is forced by circumstance to set out to uncover the truth. The “truth” just so happens to rest in the hands of the Culture's oldest citizen, the man who lives forever, Ngaroe QiRia.
Banks is revisiting and expanding on Sublimation, the transference of an entire civilization from the physical realm to a high-energy quantum state bordering on non-existence. Other authors may have struggled to describe just what exactly is going on but as usual Banks' writing style is engaging and immersive, and his world-building is unparalleled.
This story was a little different to read given the real life context around the book, I was reading this as the end of the series as opposed to contemporary readers treating it as just another entry. The themes on offer, the nature of existence, the value of tradition, and the limits of knowledge served to enhance the fatalist tone of the book for me. It was a real shock to learn that this was not in fact written on his death bed, I though for sure that the time-to (The Gzilt timekeeping devices that have replaced conventional watches, they instead tell the time-to sublimation day) concept was meant to parallel a cancer diagnosis-three months left to live.
I am happy to be at the end of the series, but I am sad that there will never be more. This was not my favorite culture novel but The Hydrogen Sonata is a must-read for fans of science fiction and the Culture series. It is a thoughtful and entertaining novel that showcases Banks' skill as a writer and his ability to create a rich and fascinating universe. That it serves as an appropriate capstone to the series is just one of life's small but appropriate coincidences.
The book in one quote:
“What?” the angel cried. “will you have no thought for your immortal soul?”“Oh, fuck off,” Chay said.
I had to give this book a few days to let its impression settle in my mind, and I didn't want to let Culture fatigue color my opinion on the book. For anyone that's not counting, this is book 9 of 10 and we are fast approaching the finish line on this series. As the second of the “newly released” (this millennia) Culture novels, I think I am starting to see a pattern or commonality in these releases: this book, like Matter, is of immense quality but is retreading some of the themes previously discussed in the series. Surface Detail is all about death and the after life, and for my money has one of the most interesting premises in the whole series with a virtual war between the multitudinous heavens and hells of the greater galactic community being the centerpiece conflict. Parallel to the main course, Banks has a feast of philosophical themes and ethical questions on offer that are sure to be ringing around your noggin for a good long while. I found this book to be very similar to Excession in its sprawling scope and multiple plotlines, and similar-to-but-not-to-the-same-degree as Excession my chief complaint is that the book can feel disjointed at times, and it can be difficult to keep track of all the different characters and settings.
The story follows a variety of characters in different parts of the galaxy, each of whom is grappling with the idea of the afterlife and the role that virtual reality can play in it. Banks' vivid imagination is on display prominently, from the diverse array of cultures and technologies to the virtual hells that some societies create to torture their dead. The political and social structures of the universe are complex and nuanced, and the different factions well developed. The text is rich in fuel for an ethics debate on the purpose of hell and what its existence says about the nature of god, or in the case of the story, the societies who have created their own. I keenly noticed the influence of Salman Rushdie in Banks' previous works especially whenever he tacks towards religion as a subject-and this book is no exception. The conflict between the two factions in the afterlife is essentially a debate about what is the best way to handle the afterlife and how justice is defined.
The central plotline concerning Lededje and Veppers is what pulls the whole book forward and it is as compelling as it is thought provoking. The relationship between the two characters and their place in the larger narrative concerning the war for the afterlife is rich with metaphor and raises my favorite moral/ethical concern of the book. Veppers our token megalomaniacal interplanetary tycoon escapes the punishment that trope and convention demands. Separate from Banks' love of subverting trope, this situation serves to illustrate the need for a hell (a detail not observed otherwise by the plot) as some people are just too powerful or well connected for them to ever face the music in their own lifetime (unless you happen to be besties with a top-of-the-fucking-line abominator class death machine cum spaceship). Hell serves as the place where Veppers and people like him would ostensibly face justice for their transgressions in the real, but as the novel takes great care to illustrate, hell is an evil torturous place that no “good” person could be operating without being morally compromised.
Out of all of the Culture stories so far, this felt to me to be the least “Culture” of them all. Not only does this book have little to do with the Culture from a narrative/plotting standpoint but the themes being discussed don't have the same taint of “this is what the Culture does/believes so it's obviously correct,” that's the signature of the series. As I read on I couldn't help but feel like this story would have faired better as its own series comprising two or three separate books. I don't mean to complain about the excessive number of plotlines/characters/subplots because I never got lost in the story the same way I did with Excession, and more importantly they all connected at the end rather miraculously. That said, as a standalone Culture entry there are issues with the pacing and if I had been proofing this, my suggestion would have been to give the plot room to run as its own series. The series wouldn't even have to be entirely outside the Culture universe, the small nod to Use of Weapons and the venerable Zakalwe at the end could have, like in Inversions, only hinted at the larger context of the series.
TL;DR: This book can be complex, meandering, and dense at times but is very compelling and thought provoking. The imaginative premise and quality of the writing is top notch. I would say this one was for the fans and that it may not be the easiest read for the general public.
Wow what an enjoyable and straightforward read. We are on book 8 out of 10 here, the first book in the final third chunk of the Culture and Iain Banks' writing has noticeably matured and improved. This is probably the first book since Use of Weapons to feature a compelling main plotline, and it famously features the best worldbuilding in the entire series. A wide reaching but thematically tight romp through some of the Culture's most interesting settings, I think this is one of the best books in the series and an excellent starting point for anyone curious about the series but unwilling to read through the whole thing.
A Brief Precis to the Culture:
The Culture is a far in the future anarcho-utopian space faring civilization run by altruistic and smarmy sentient AI Minds. In their quest to do good, the Culture makes contact with space-faring but comparatively primitive civilizations and does its best to break down existing hierarchies and build up democracies. While it sounds a lot like American hegemony and imperialist meddling, the Culture promises it isn't, and they can statistically prove it.
Meat & Potatoes:
I would describe Matter as a palace intrigue and family reunion story that just so happens to take place on the Death Star; conveniently the story is arranged in halves. The first half of the book is very GOT/HoD with most of the action taking place on ground level in your standard pre industrial society. All I will say towards the second half of the book is that the scope of the novel widens about as far as imagination allows.
We meet our main characters: Furbin the new crown prince, his manservant Holse, Djal his sister who lives off world, and their youngest brother Oramen. I don't want to give anything away so I will only say that each of these characters gets fleshed out a fair bit. Not all of them go through complete arcs but Furbin goes from as my notes say, “a dreadfully stupid and bumbling cunt,” to something resembling a competent adult. As far as what I found enjoyable in the book the story is very much the brussel sprouts of a larger meal; that's not to say it is bad, it's actually very good compared to some of the other stories in the series, it's just overshadowed by the rest of the metaphorical plate.
As to the quality of the writing, this book picks up after Look to Windward and while being stylistically different still hit a high note with me. Dialogue is crisp and engaging, and as previously alluded to, the world building and imagery is the best its ever been. Where with LoW we got to see a lot of the day-to-day of the Culture homeworlds, this book gives us a sweeping glance at the multitude of other civilizations and structures that populate the galaxy.
Shellworlds:
For a big series with big ideas, the Culture novels never truly painted its worlds with the same brush and scope as it has its space-ier settings. Often the stories of the Culture are set onboard everyone's favorite smartass ships, Culture orbital habitats, or on far-flung and primitive worlds. Matter finally brings that scale and grandeur to ground level, introducing the latest (Eons Old) development in megastructure engineering, the Shellworlds. The second half of this book is basically all about them, and the story is literally put on pause so that we the reader may marvel in their splendor.
Can you say layers? Shellworlds for the uninitiated are planets of nested concentric spheres, each sphere forming a level of the planet and an entire world layer of its own. This is the matryoshka doll of planetary mega structures, built by a long extinct civilization for an unknown purpose, with only half of them surviving to the present. Each layer is now home to entirely unique and specialized biomes for the races and civilizations that live on their respective layer. Shellworlds are hierarchically organized, with more primitive species and civilizations living on the inner layers and their more advanced “mentor” civilizations occupying the outermost layers and controlling the interior infrastructure.
Themes (Minor Spoilers Ahead):
It's not on accident that the arrangement of civilizational hierarchy on the Shellworld mirrors the greater galactic state of affairs. This book is uncharacteristically direct as it presents its theme and primary philosophical questions in the form of a neatly packaged microcosm: what is the point of all this? This book is harrowingly nihilistic, it presents us with a galaxy's worth of civilizational achievement only to ask us why it all exists or even if it truly exists at all, are we anything more than a simulation? This is not the first time that Banks' has presented us this question, a kind of reverse of Turtles All the Way Down, instead of looking down and questioning what the foundation of the universe rests on it asks instead who is it that is looking down from the very top.
As more of the plot is revealed it becomes increasingly clear that despite the high technological level and achievement the galactic hegemons possess, they are truly no better than the more primitive civilizations under their care when it comes to things like war and purpose. Instead of waging war themselves they stage elaborate casus beli for subordinate species to wage war, all for the purpose of their own excitement and entertainment. Drones record the action in the countless primitive worlds, and in turn even smaller means of observation watch on; layers of exploitation and observation all the way to the top, but who watches the watchers?
We never really find out because Banks' doesn't end his stories the way we'd like him to, to put all the scary questions in a tidy box and wrap it in the ribbon of human understanding. I think he understands better than most writers that A. shit happens and B. we rarely ever understand why. Some would call the ending a big weakness of the book for that same reason, but personally I've read enough of these stories to understand that asking the question alone is often the best we're going to get.
“... Yes, fuck off through the crowd, you cretin.”
Dedicated to the gulf war veterans, Look to Windward is all about war, PTSD, trauma and the wonders of symphonic music. The Culture for the unacquainted is a far in the future anarcho-utopian space faring civilization run by altruistic and smarmy sentient AI Minds. In their quest to do good, the Culture makes contact with space-faring but comparatively primitive civilizations and does its best to break down existing hierarchies and build up democracies. While it sounds a lot like American hegemony and imperialist meddling, the Culture promises it isn't, and they can statistically prove it.
Sometimes in their quest for galactic peace and love the Culture make mistakes, and this book concerns itself with one such example. In this case, the Culture works to break down the caste system of the Chelgrians. Things don't go according to plan when the new president of Chel, a member of the lowest caste and installed by the Culture, decides that what he really wants is pay back and kicks off bloody civil war.
I found this book to have incredibly strong prose and dialogue. This is head and shoulders above the rest of the series. I thought Inversions was peak Banks but I was wrong, this book is peak. Whether it's enchanting landscapes, witty wordplay, or clearly drawn characters there's really nothing but nice things to say about the book. Some of the dialogue made me laugh out loud, and there's ton of self-referential humor (at a certain point the characters converse by quoting the trademark silly ship names). There is an enjoyable balance between wit and poetic sentiment, some of these passages are hauntingly beautiful.
Unfortunately as enjoyable as this was to read, the plot and message were very frustrating to grapple with. This is a book with a lot to say, but it doesn't really ever get to the point. For all the pretty words and witty jokes there is a failure to explore the questions it poses. Most of the story is spent building up complex questions only for the resolution to be: Culture good, war bad, we're sorry.
Note: I also wanted to shout out Peter Kenny's incredible delivery in the audiobook recording, his take on the dialogue superseded my own inner narration whenever I settled in to read a few chapters.
PLOT:
The story follows two Chelgrians. Ziller is a famous Chelgrian composer so disgusted by his society and their caste system, that he renounces Chel and chooses to live amongst the Culture. Ziller is easily the best character in the book, and probably my favorite in the series; he's blunt, irascible, and hilariously vulgar. Quilan, a Chelgrian soldier whose body is rebuilt after the end of the war, wakes up to find his wife dead and the Culture to blame. Empty and grief-stricken Quilan is chosen for a mission; on the surface he will try to convince Ziller to return to Chel but hidden in his memories is a plot for revenge against the Culture.
Playing out on two levels the plot concerns itself with the conspiracy of Quil and the Chelgrians on one hand, and the larger questions of intervention and the nature of death on the other. At this point in the series I can safely say that the tension of the A plot is largely non-existent, the Minds of the Culture are clever and you can count on them to always find the solution in time. The B plot is what I found the most entertaining by far.
For a book that's about the experience of war there's a tremendous gap between the experience of the Chelgrians, gruesome and self destructive, and the Culture. Sure they're really sorry about the whole affair, but the war doesn't impact their society in the slightest. The contrast evokes Iraq war sentiment to me, given that this was written pre 9/11, I get the feeling that this is Bank's discourse concerning the gulf war. Hub, the mind of the orbital platform where the story takes place, is the only Culture character to have experienced war directly. Unfortunately the character of Hub cannot bridge the divide, and the interventionist issue is really never explored to any satisfaction. There were already a ton of characters but this book would have really benefited from the perspective of a Culture agent.
Death, its permanence, and its escape feature heavily in this book. Are you the same person after your revive from death? The Culture provides handy backups of its citizens personalities should they suffer meat death. The question of whether or not you are still you is presented only to never be answered. The premise of death and the value of life is a little thin, with the only question of substance being the value of life in a post-death society. If I had to describe the overall philosophy on display I think “a little thin” could apply to the whole thing.
TL;DR: Wonderful prose and a tight plot would usually make a great book, but when you ask big questions and offer small answers the reader is left frustrated. This is somewhere between 2 and 3 stars, I gave it 3 based on the quality of the prose alone.
Inversions is probably my second favorite culture novel after Use of Weapons; this book was subtle, atmospheric, and was so different from everything that came before that I almost can't believe it's in the same series. I took a detour from The Culture after the disappointment I got from Excession and I am delighted to say that this novel is the “inversion” of that book; every gripe I had with Excession, every missed mark or narrative flaw, is thankfully absent from this work.
Banks' continues to demonstrate his love of complex narrative vehicles, this time (mercifully) it's only a dual-narrative. Rather than a space/Culture setting this story is set on a backward (read: feudal/enlightenment era) planet and follows the King's doctor Vosill and the Protector's bodyguard DeWar. You would be excused for not even considering the book to be Sci-Fi or culture related as any connection this book has to the rest of the series is fairly subdued, mainly in the form of fairytales and casual conversation. I am tempted to say that this story can be read standalone because it definitely could be; but-for the ending, which does involve Culture/SC/Contact/Sci-Fi elements but does not explain them.
It was fulfilling to finally read a story set in the Culture that wasn't bouncing all over the place trying to cram as much (admittedly very cool and interesting) Sci-Fi-AI-overlord-black-hole galactic-war-warp-speed-ness down the reader's throat as is physically possible. Instead this a human story and is a work of character writing, love, court politics and intrigue. As always there is Banks' sardonic humor and dry wit. While the story is told from a third person perspective and is partially detached as is typical of many of the Culture novels thus far, unlike those prior stories we get a lot in the way of characterization and emotion because thankfully this time the speaker is a person and not a drone.
This book really takes a magnifying glass to the society of a world potentially subject to Contact, the arm of the culture that “contacts” and eventually incorporates existing civilizations into Culture space. Thematically this book is still 100% Culture; we are tackling the same questions of morality and intervention, this time from the bottom of the pyramid rather than the top down approach used in the other books. We see the underbelly of the world of the Culture, and this book doesn't shy away from darker subjects, particularly issues surrounding the treatment of women in war and the subject of rape.
I'm not sure what happened in the two year gap between Inversions and Excession but this time around Banks' stepped up his game; one of our characters is a woman! In fact the strongest characters in this book were Vosill and Perrund, the Protector's concubine. Perrund delivers a chilling monologue concerning her treatment at the hands of a conquering force that I thought was the most alive/true-to-life these novels have ever gotten. In fact the strength of these characters does a lot to highlight the moral questions posed concerning contact: if in fact a foreign but guiding hand would prevent the kind of horrors visited on Perrund and others like her, would that good outweigh the bad that comes with forced change or the elimination of a planet's right to self-determination and rule?
I can see why fans of the series might rank this entry towards the bottom; it all but forgoes the “sci” part of sci-fi in favor of telling a grounded and compelling story, and some fans might really just be here for the big ships and the snarky drones. Personally I think I overdosed on that stuff after reading Excession. Had I known that the aptly titled Inversions, really was an inversion of the genre I don't think I would have been so keen to take a break from the series.
TL;DR: This book is really good, the sci-fi meter is set on low simmer.
Inversions begins with an introduction to Iain Banks where the claim was that he came to “controversial public notice” with this book. I was curious, and well yep, I get it, The Wasp Factory is macabre and gruesome. I wasn't sure if I hated or loved this book until I got to the very end, and I am glad I made it the entire way. This novel is brilliantly self aware, and the violence (gruesome and excessive) that made this book controversial is ultimately the lingua franca by which this book discusses trauma and identity. This book knows it is ridiculous and the gruesome violence is couched in humor, (Iain Bank clearly revels in the absurdity and horror) but for all the absurdity it is very much a controlled burn.
This is a story of a self obsessed 16(17?) year old homicidal maniac living his days quietly torturing the animals of the Scottish Island that he and his father have made their home. Frank kills animals in odd rituals and false wars as he operates his grand death machine, the Wasp Factory, a mechanism that Frank uses as his metaphysical guide. Along the way we learn about the factory, the relatives Frank murdered in his childhood, and the disability that consumes Frank's life. Frank's eldest brother, institutionalized after setting the town's dogs on fire, escapes, and makes his way home down the Scottish coast leaving behind a trail of ashes and half eaten remains.
My approach to this novel was largely blind and I think any potential reader should stop here and pick the book up because it is worth reading. If you enjoyed Choke by Chuck Palahniuk I think this will be right up your alley.
As I have read through Banks' work I have consistently picked up on his inability to write a female character, and generally the way his stories tend to shove the ladies into the background. This consistent loose thread in his writing made the ending of this novel a monster of a surprise to me. Frank turns out to be Frances, born a girl and experimented on by their father after a severe genital mauling by the family dog. Banks loves his platitudes and his Freud and I disappointedly noted the dogma present in the subtext, alongside Frank's patent hatred of women (attributed to his mother's abandonment). It seemed to me that the book was taking any chance it got to take shots at women, and alongside the essentially all-male cast I was starting to draw conclusions from this first work about why women seemed absent and muted in the world of The Culture.But wow that ending. I loved Frank's closing thoughts concerning the trajectory of his life, the Freudian reading of penis envy and the realization of his replacement of sex with violence; his all too clear and simple exaggeration of "Man as Death" and his violent tendencies as an expression of masculine identity. The absence of women in this novel serves only to highlight these character deficiencies, their exclusion becomes a central plot element. The contrast between egalitarian ideals concerning gender and Frank's excoriation of women only made the ending all the more absurd. In a way everything becomes a moot point, Frank's plight upending the foundations of all the (now shown to be ridiculous) notions they once had.
I really enjoyed this book, the main reason this isn't rated a perfect 5 is because the first 15-20% of the novel is an infodump and a half. I had to read the opening chapters twice just to get a grasp of all the different character threads and plotlines. Did I mention plotlines? This is a story with a lot of moving pieces; there is an entire world that needs establishing and a context that needs to be delivered in detail, thanks to this breadth the story trips up at its start.
Ken Liu catches his stride fairly quickly with our introduction to Kuni Garu, the central protagonist of the story. Kuni Garu is an incredibly likable and entertaining main character, and I found the entire cast of the story to be bright and alive on the page. This is all rendered in excellent prose, Ken Liu's voice and style has always been clear and descriptive, and he isn't afraid to reference and interpret Chinese literature. It is refreshing to experience a different set of tropes and reference, but I think at its heart this is a classic fantasy story about a hero and a wise king.
I had to take a break from Iain Banks after I finished Excession and this book was a wonderful palate cleanser. It was incredibly refreshing to see female characters who were well written and had agency. I absolutely loved the character of Princess Kikomi and her story arc was a big positive of the book: The female characters in this book are awesome despite the feudal setting. The women in this story are shackled by the time and setting but they are not robbed of their agency. Where another author might have exposited their tragic ends or romantic inclinations (alongside philosophic platitude and social commentary), Ken Liu breathes life into his women. The girls in this book make choices that impact the plot, and their perspective is represented in notable depth. The character of Lady Mira was very well done and I thought her story and monologue in chapter 45 were some of the best written passages in the novel.
I did have one small gripe and that was that the story felt limited by its genre and there were elements of the plot that seemed to bend in favor of trope and contrivance. This is a story that threatens the boundaries of a traditional fantasy story. Despite the rise and fall theme, it so wants to write the world in the image of its characters but can't because its world is the way it is (Because it's the dark ages bro, life sucks dude, the gods are vindictive friend, this is grounded my guy). I sensed an element of metanarrative in the way that the story rubs against the reins of its premise, and the way that the will and agency of the characters rub against the prophetic whims of the gods who oversee the plot from their perch.
Excited to see more of Kuni Garu, excited to see if the next book will shake up what has been a fairly predictable plot.
Time travel is a tough premise to pull off but this book takes that challenge on and slams one out of the park. I love me a closed loop time travel story, a story where the mechanics are much less important than the story being told. Rather intelligently this story incorporates the mechanics of time travel into its narrative, ultimately there is a satisfying accounting of events. The settings/times are each described in vivid detail, I really enjoyed the opening chapters especially the chapters that have us in 1900s Canada.
I didn't know this when I chose to read it, but this is very much a pandemic book and gave me the same melancholic catharsis I got from don't look up. I think that everyone dealt with lockdown in their own way, and I always get something out of reading or listening to someone process it. I empathized with Olives' story, and unlike don't look up, her ending really managed to bring out a smile.
What a disappointment. This entry in the Culture series was billed as the main book to look forward to, a pay off for the diligent reader/ true fan. I can't see the appeal. There is a lot of stuff contained in 500 pages; too much stuff, this book is bloated and unfocused.
A short summary: The Culture encounters and “Outside Context Problem”, the discovery of an “Excession” an artifact of a civilization so advanced as to be beyond their understanding. (Conquistadors to Aztecs/Incans). In the midst of this alarming discovery a war is precipitated as part of a long running conspiracy, with the discovery of the Excession serving as a catalyst.
Before this becomes a list of everything wrong with the book I will say that I enjoyed getting a story that dealt in the perspective of the Minds. Given that they feature so prominently in the premise of the series it is kind of surprising that they haven't featured as main characters until this novel. There are certain snippets and interactions between the varying ships that were extremely entertaining. As ever, I enjoyed the sheer variety of interesting and novel ideas the Culture throws at you, of which, this novel has no shortage; really this is a conceptual feast of a novel.
Unfortunately that same glut of interesting ideas is, in my opinion, the downfall of this book. There are so many subplots, characters, and concepts to keep track of. Some of the chapters are non-linear to boot, so you have a really hard time pinning down exactly what is going on until maybe half way through the book. Along the way Banks gets a little lost in the sauce and spends an in-ordinate amount of time expounding on non-relevant but interesting tidbits about the world we're visiting. This would be fine but we have the main plot concerning the excession, we have a conspiracy that cuts in every other chapter, there's a war on in the background, there's a love story, and much much much more. It's all plot, so when Banks takes two or three pages to explain something ancillary it really just makes the book drag.
I want to briefly mention the Genar-Dajeil-Ulver subplot. Genar is tasked by SC (on secret orders from the Sleeper Service) to retrieve a mind backup of some ship captain, Ulver is tasked to distract him by the conspirators, and Dajeil has been pregnant for 40 years with Genar's child. At the very end we're told that Genar only features in the plot because his presence was the payment the Sleeper Service had requested. This entire subplot is contrived, all it served to do was distract from the truly interesting bits.
The prose in this novel is also much weaker than I've come to expect. The cryptographic notation attached to the ship communications was pretty neat the first time I saw it, but it features in EVERY ship/mind focused chapter and it seems like a crutch to lend a little credibility to the staggeringly dense paragraphs that follow. Most of the plot is delivered in these long and drawn out exposition dumps, and rarely if ever does the conversation between characters resolve any questions we might have had.
Finally, I will note as I have for the previous books, that Banks cannot write a female character to save his life. In this book it becomes truly baffling as we get a better understanding of the in-universe mores and norms surrounding sex, gender, and the family. For an older series this book has an extremely progressive tilt; I found the concept of “mutualing” where both partners become simultaneously pregnant to be fascinating and surely enough to make a nun blush. Ostensibly in the Culture where people can and do freely transition between sexes, the difference between men and women would surely amount to just aesthetic differences. Why then, are all the female characters featured so far in these books, and this book in particular, cardboard cut outs, or proxies for male characters (or the ships), or just tropey brat-type characters?
A nice little break from the mainline stories. This was a quick and light read, I thought that each short story was interesting and worth the time it took to finish. My favorite three:
1. The State of the Art- The titular novella, it's a neat little easter egg of a story. I can understand the urge to pull the Earth into the Culture Universe but at the same not wanting to impact the tone/canon in a Novel sized tale. I can see a desire for a little more Culture/Contact action, but I really felt gratified by how much Earth is featured, illustrated, and reflected upon. This is a tight story with a thoughtful take on determinism and cultural relativity. I think it's worth it to read the collection just for this story. Nice to get more Sma and Skaffen Amiskaw (Iain Banks really knows what the readers want).
2. Descendant - This is how you write a horror story in 6 pages or less. The prose reminded me of Cormack McCarthy. This is one of the shorter stories in the novel, but I thought it was a head above the rest.
3. Cleaning Up - The most meta story of the bunch, there's even a nod to the Satanic Verses. A foreshadowed ending buried within the agnst and commentary. I thought this the most direct and touching story, at least for me.
Use of Weapons is the Third book in The Culture, and so far my favorite of the series. I think it's very rare for a series to increase in quality in the way that the Culture has thus far, each novel has built on the one before it and each story has seen a marked improvement in its writing and overall story. As if Banks was peeking at my review of Player of Games decades in the past, this novel is a deep dive into the psyche of its main character, it's a web of memory that keeps unraveling and thankfully answers questions about Zakalwe's past and his motivations.
This is two stories that run in opposite courses. The main chapters (one, two, three, etc.) tell the story of Zakalwe and Sma, a Culture agent and his handler as they attempt to stop an impending war in a far off Starcluster. The sub chapters (I, II, III, VI, etc.) are a reverse-chronological telling of Zakalwe's story and are by far the most interesting part of the book to me. I also enjoyed the mysterious character of Sma and I hope she is further featured in the series.
Use of Weapons is a case study in how setting can best be used to enhance a story, it's also a case of setting being essential for the underlying plot. The scope of an entire universe is harnessed to tell a centuries long, galaxy spanning epic. I cannot imagine how convoluted and dense this book would have been if the author had needed to explain every detail of life in the culture, their scientific prowess, or the pseudo-immortality afforded to its characters.
Thanks to the structure of this book I felt free to ponder on The Culture itself; this book raises questions about the morality of intervention and war. I enjoyed the discourse the book offered up: a rock as the center of the universe, turtles all the way down, do the ends justify the means? What does that all mean for the culture? I think that the ultimate pleasure of this series will be what each reader ultimately believes the Culture is, whether it is a force for good in the universe or if it is a fresh face on old concepts of conquest and imperialism. Is it possible to be simultaneously expansionist and morally sound?
TL;DR: Extremely well written, better than Consider Phlebas and Player of Games. Less action, more character and world building. This is, at its heart, a soldier's story. Near perfect. Not sure if this one can be read standalone, this story is very rooted in the context of the Culture.
This is the follow up to Consider Phlebas, the second book in The Culture. The story revolves around a Culture master gamer; Juneau Gurgah. He is invited to play the game of Azad, an ultra complex board game by which the Empire of Azad determines its Emperor and much of its social hierarchy. This book touches on more than games, it's an exploration of the culture and mores of the “Culture”, it's a commentary on late stage capitalism, and it also takes its shots at gender equality and transhumanism.
Sometimes contrast is the best way to illustrate a point, and the Empire in this novel encapsulates the unsavory and evil nature of ownership as a concept. Throughout the novel we see the differences between the Culture and the Empire; here we see capitalism and ownership equated to barbarism. I saw an extremist version of the US in the Empire, a place where you can gamble with your life and limbs as a stake, a place where slavery is commonplace and the ruling class revels in owning another person, a place where the genders are rigid and hierarchical, a place where value is not inherent but defined by the suffering undergone to achieve ownership. There is a moment in the book where the band that is playing in the background, is revealed to be playing treasured instruments of human bone, drums bound in human skin, violins whose every string has strangled the life of someone. This novel peeks under the hood of a capitalist homogenous society, and it is stark and uncompromising in what it chooses to show the reader.
The Main Character undergoes a change as he adapts to the culture and language of the Empire, as he plays their game and understands their worldview. I will say this second entry in the series does itself a lot of favors by stripping down the cast, and mainly focusing on the culture clash and its effects on the MC. It isn't a perfect book but it explores some very interesting concepts, and that's really why many of us read Sci-Fi. Again I found myself wishing for better character development, we rarely ever get a peek into the mind of Gurgah; this is excused by the narrative device of a third party telling the story after the fact.
You do not need to read Consider Phlebas to enjoy or understand this book, as a standalone sci-fi novel this entry is about as good as it gets. By virtue of its setting it kind of spoils some of CP; but in my reading of CP knowing those spoilers will not detract from the point of that story.
As I write this I've finished Player of Games, and I can say that this book has done its job of setting up what I expect are the core philosophical questions of the series, but I don't feel as though enough attention was given to the narrative of this specific entry. Characters feel flat, motivations are written out and grappled with but there's no catharsis, I didn't come away feeling as though I understood what the point was.
This is my introduction to The Culture, a far in the future symbiosis of human and intelligent machine, an ever expanding post-scarcity anarchist utopian society. I enjoyed this book, it's a fast paced pan-galactic heist that does a good job of introducing its larger world. I felt like I was reading a sci-fi adaptation of The Mummy. Our main character is a “changer” shapeshifter on a mission from his alien overlords, he gets his ass kicked six ways from Sunday as he and his makeshift crew galivant disastrously across temples and desolate ruins. No one safe, nothing is sacred, and the author isn't afraid to build up a trope just to yank the rug out from under us.
I came away positive on the series, but this book is a freshman effort; The female characters might as well be cardboard cut-outs and the rest of the cast has zero agency which is weird since the MC doesn't start running the show until nearly the half-way point. At certain points in the story MC himself appears to be railroaded into the narrative, and for all the political philosophy and high minded rhetoric of the warring factions, the character's motivations aren't explored in a meaningful way.
This book is the Coda to TBNS and in finishing it I feel as though I've completed a great labor, and I regret that I did not take the time to write out my thoughts for each volume of Severian's journey because I find it to have mirrored my own in reading through this series. From murky and confused beginnings, down winding steps filled with monster and mystery, to a clearing of understanding and repentance this series has engulfed me in its world.
At the same time I'm glad I waited to comment until I'd reached the story's conclusion as no single part of the series should be judged on its own merits. Even this book, very much separated from the tetralogy, is part of the larger whole and mainly serves to shed light on some of the questions that plagued its contemporary reader.
I can't credit Gene Wolfe's storytelling enough, and in reading Neil Gaiman's, “How to Read Gene Wolfe” I am inclined to agree despite having never met the man, that he is, “a ferocious intellect, vast and cool and serious, who created books and stories that were of genre but never limited by it. An explorer, who set out for uncharted territory and brought back maps, and if he said “Here There Be Dragons,” by God, you knew that was where the dragons were.”
This series, and its individual pieces, are far from perfect and problem free. Parts of the series are, from a modern viewpoint, dogged by conservative thought and generalizations, misogyny and religious zeal. Very much a Christ allegory it was interesting to read from the perspective of a man convinced of God or at least in the message of the Church. Fortunately this series is a case of the whole being greater than the sum of its parts; Wolfe's writing matures as the story goes on, and in so doing adds a layer of congeniality to what could have otherwise been a clumsy retelling of Jesus goes to Nazareth. Mixing science fiction, fantasy, and religion beautifully I can completely understand why this work is considered a masterpiece and a foundational text on the level of LoTR.
