Book Review: 2034 - A Novel of the Next World War

I read an excerpt of this in Wired magazine and was intrigued. It helped that the authors are Admiral James Stavridis and Marine veteran Elliot Ackerman.

While patrolling the South China Sea, a small flotilla makes a surprising discovery after coming to the aid of a fishing trawler in distress. Over in the Persian Gulf, a test of new stealth technology mounted on an F-35 goes awry. A cyberattack upon D.C. briefly knocks out the power at the White House. Events spiral out of control from there.

The premise that makes this all possible is a technological leap made by China, granting them superior cyberespionage skills, strong enough to incapacitate the American military. Given the lack of cybersecurity infrastructure and the growing prevalence of ransomware attacks plaguing America over the last few years, it does at least seem plausible.

But there are other assumptions that take away from the scenario presented. Iran is struggling too much right now to suddenly become a successful expansionist state. As much as I'd like India to succeed as a nation, the authors envision it making leaps and bounds in infrastructure and military strength in too short a time, particularly for a country that has issues providing sufficient potable water to its cities. NATO is notably absent, albeit still intact. The impact of Covid-19 on the world seems to be largely ignored, granted the manuscript was probably at the publisher.

The story is told from the viewpoint of five characters: US Navy Commodore Sarah Hunt, Chinese Admiral Lin Bao, US Marine pilot Major Chris "Wedge" Mitchell, Iranian Brigadier General Qassem Farshad, and US Deputy National Security Advisor Sandeep Chowdhury. The authors provide them with enough backstory to have a sense of who they are, but there was never quite enough for them to leap off the page. They were like made-for-TV characters—functional but not memorable.

I think a major reason for that is, with maybe with one or two exceptions, that most of the action and decision-making takes place off-screen. We get a character's perspective just before something happens and then switch to a different character's viewpoint as they react to the news of the event that just took place. End result: All telling and very little showing. That's a major mistake.

This is no military thriller—Tom Clancy will not be dethroned here. This is meant to be a cautionary tale, a war game scenario turned into a novel. While a U.S. - China confrontation over the South China Sea or Taiwan is always a possibility, particularly if jingoistic factions take control, it seemed as though everyone made the wrong choice whenever possible. While the characters were mere pawns, hubris seems to be a large part of the decision makers' choices. A lesson in Pride goeth before the fall. Maybe that was the authors' intent as the novel was written during the Trump administration. But whatever their reasons, it just didn't work for me as a novel.

2 1/2 stars.

\_/
DED

Book Review: Binti

Her name is Binti, and she is the first of the Himba people ever to be offered a place at Oomza University, the finest institution of higher learning in the galaxy. But to accept the offer will mean giving up her place in her family to travel between the stars among strangers who do not share her ways or respect her customs.

Knowledge comes at a cost, one that Binti is willing to pay, but her journey will not be easy. The world she seeks to enter has long warred with the Meduse, an alien race that has become the stuff of nightmares. Oomza University has wronged the Meduse, and Binti's stellar travel will bring her within their deadly reach.

If Binti hopes to survive the legacy of a war not of her making, she will need both the the gifts of her people and the wisdom enshrined within the University, itself—but first she has to make it there, alive.

I found a copy of this book in a little used bookstore up on the Cape this summer. Recalling that it had won several awards, and only being a novella in length, I picked it up.

We follow 16-year-old Binti as she steals away in the night to embark on a trip to Oomza University. Instead of being proud of Binti's acceptance at such a prestigious university, her family forbids her to go. They say that Binti's place, like all Himba, is at home with family. The narration and theme makes this seem like either middle grade or young adult fare, but I can still appreciate it.

As Binti makes her way to the spaceport, she has to deal with the Khoush, fellow humans of an unknown ethnicity. They scrutinize Binti's appearance as if she were an insect under a magnifying glass with all the poise of middle school biology class.

  “It smells like jasmine flowers,” she said to the woman on her left, surprised.
  “No shit?” one woman said. “I hear it smells like shit because it is shit.”
  “No, definitely jasmine flowers. It is thick like shit, though.”
  “Is her hair even real?” another woman asked the woman rubbing her fingers.
  “I don’t know.”
  “These ‘dirt bathers’ are a filthy people,” the first woman muttered.

On the trip to Oomza University, Binti gradually makes inroads with her fellow students, apparently all Khoush. I thought that the story was going to be about Binti winning over her fellow students, but instead, the plot takes a sharp turn. A Meduse boarding party arrives out of nowhere—it's never explained how—and mercilessly attacks the passengers. Her survival appears to be a bit of deus ex machina, but the story would be over if she died right there.

I was hoping that Okarafor was going to have Binti rally her fellow Khoush students to repel the invaders, but no. Everyone was killed, all 500 passengers, except Binti and the never-seen pilot. So then I was hoping Binti was going to use her wits to work with the pilot to repel the invaders. Nope. Instead, Binti parleys with the Medusae, in particular one named Okwu, in an effort to think of a way out of this mess.

While I enjoyed learning about this future version of the Himba, I'm left wondering why a people who never travel have a need for an astrolabe, much less build them. But it's clear from the text that Okorafor has changed the definition of the device to be something much more.

Who are the Khoush? Initially, they were described as being lighter in skin color than Binti, but towards the end of the story, she encounters a dark-skinned Khoush. It's said at one point that the Himba don't like outsiders. Since no other types of humans are mentioned in the story, does that mean that everyone who isn't Himba is a Khoush to these isolationist xenophobes? The adult Khoush certainly have their attitude issues, the younger ones are more curious and open to new ideas than their parents, but we never see how the Himba act toward them. Might the rudeness of adults go both ways?

Another thing that nagged at me was Biniti's response to landing on Oomza. I was given the impression that there was artificial gravity on the spaceship. At no point is anyone or anything just floating about. But when the ship lands, she falls to the floor upon encountering the planet's gravity. The world is described as "a small planet compared to Earth" so smaller size means less mass (unless the world's density is somehow greater than your typical terrestrial world) which means less gravity. An editor should've caught that.

While I won't spoil the ending, I have to say that I find it troubling. If you want a spoiler, highlight this next section of text.——> The Medusae are angry at the university because they stole the chief's stinger. How this was accomplished is never explained. The chief is fine by the way. He just feels emasculated. Regardless, this is the Medusae's justification for killing all of the students on the spaceship. It's a matter of honor, never mind that the students had nothing to do with it, nor knowledge of it. After some debate, the university agrees to give the stinger back and they give the Medusae named Okwu what amounts to a full scholarship at the university. No demands from the university to atone for the 500 dead students, nor are there complaints from the crowd in attendance. No apologies or remorse from the Medusae; they leave completely satisfied. The terrorists win.

On top of this, Okwu and Binti become friends despite the fact that she witnessed it kill a fellow student right in front of her, splattering blood on her face, and it was going to kill her, too, were it not for her magic pet rock. Does Binti have Stockholm Syndrome? She does care that these people, although they were Khoush, were brutally slaughtered, right? We're given a sentence or two where she's upset by what happened, but the narrative's focus is on Binti making a fresh batch of otjize. Yes, I get that it's her cultural tie with home, but I wish more had been written about Binti dealing with her traumatic experience instead of just focusing on her being homesick.

I've learned that Binti's PTSD for this experience is addressed in Sacred Fire, a short story that was written after the series concluded and inserted into a special trilogy collection, officially book 1.5 in the series. The cynic in me says, "Damage control."

Overall, I enjoyed Okarafor's world-building and learning about these future Himba, even though Binti seemed a bit obsessed with her otjize. Setting aside my nitpicking over some details and the childish behavior of the Medusae, I would've been fine with the story, but that ending ruined it for me.

2 stars

\_/
DED

Book Review: Demon by John Varley

Gaea is back with a new avatar: a fifty-foot tall Marilyn Monroe. She's pulling out all the stops on her obsession with movies. She's even created new organisms which are capable of making movies and ordered the construction of a city-sized movie lot. Her casting call has been set and production is about to begin on her greatest film: The War with the Demon, Cirocco Jones.

Twenty years have passed since the events in Wizard. The human population has swelled, primarily as refugees flee Earth's latest nuclear war—handled with cavalier disregard that rang implausible to even this cynic. Besides politics, Varley also savagely satirizes Earth's religions. Each faith is represented on the wheel, and all serve Gaea instead of Earth's traditional pantheons. Gaea accomplishes this by raising the dead, making them literal zombies who serve her accordingly, rotting corpses every one. All are jealous of one another, believing themselves to be Gaea's favorite, and hated by the living.

Gaea also takes propaganda to a new level. Utilizing computer technology, she places the image of her avatar into the starring role of movies that are broadcast on closed circuit TV in order to generate sympathy from her captives. I think this may be the earliest account of deepfakes in fiction.

New arrivals means new characters. These mix with old characters, and the dynamics of relationships swirl about until a new equilibrium is established. Yes, as has been common in this series, that means people are having happy, well-adjusted sex, no matter which hardware they have. The only character in the group who takes issue with it is basically told to get over it and join the human race.

In essence, Varley's worldview here boils down to this:

• Good guys: Racial and gender diverse. Sex positive.
• Bad guys: Politicians, generals, religion. Basically any structure that tries to coerce people through fear or shame to control them.

Cirocco doesn't want any part in Gaea's madness, particularly after the death of her closest friend, but Gaea has kidnapped someone very special to her and thus makes it impossible to say no.

The second half of the novel is about Cirocco raising an army and making preparations for war with Gaea and her minions. There are several meetings with Cirocco's "inside woman" wherein we learn more about Gaea's machinations going back several decades in order to make all of this possible. Everything we thought we knew gets turned on its head. While the characters all call Gaea insane, I found it too simplistic a term. To plan and orchestrate all of these events takes tremendous forethought. Gaea isn't so much insane as diabolical.

Demon made for an enjoyable end to the series. Varley's worldbuilding is superb, although his worldview might be a tad simplistic. The big reveal on Gaea felt a bit too much like telling, but as her appearances in the first two novels were limited to the climax of each, I don't know how Varley could have shown what was really going on. All we had were the intrepid humans, too busy trying to explore and survive to look behind the curtain.

4.25 stars

\_/
DED

Book Review: The Pythons Autobiography

My parents are responsible for getting me hooked on Monty Python. I remember seeing the dead parrot sketch, the lumberjack song, the Spanish Inquisition, and so much more on PBS back in the day. But what hooked me forever was Monty Python and the Holy Grail. My parents had a copy of the movie on Betamax. I lost track of the number of times I'd watched the film after about the 40th time.

I even got to see Graham Chapman on a speaking tour in 1987 while I was in college. I don't recall much from it, but one thing still sticks with me. He was talking about the making of Holy Grail and confessed when he realized that he was an alcoholic. They were in the Scottish Highlands. The weight of playing King Arthur was getting to him. He desperately wanted a drink to steady his nerves, but there was nothing available. Between the cold, the dampness, the pressure, and withdrawal symptoms, he was shaking and feverish in his chain mail and wool. He was completely miserable. The auditorium had grown completely silent as Chapman revealed that he was not an invulnerable comedic hero but a human being with all the frailties of mortality.

In October of 1989 he died of cancer.

This book is an account of the group's lives growing up, their days at university, their early pre-Python work, the coalescence of what would become Monty Python, the TV show, the movies, and the inevitable end. Each of the Pythons provided the information in interview format with Chapman's parts taken from previous memoirs and from his brother and his partner. So you would get each of their recollections about events, what they were doing and thinking.

It's clear to me now that postwar English schools were horrid places. Roger Waters, Bruce Dickinson, and the members of Monty Python have all provided details about how miserable these places were. It's almost as if the adults were punishing the children for not having a dour disposition brought on by the travails of the war.

It was really interesting to see how the Python troupe came together, and I'm curious to know how well the pre-Python work holds up. Of course, with the BBC in the habit of recycling all of its tapes back then, I don't know if any of it still exists.

There was a certain joie de vivre that the group back in the days of the TV show, and it was a delight to read about it. But you could see it start to slip away. Certain members didn't want to do the TV show anymore, so others suggested a movie. And for a while they were happy again. Holy Grail was a success and then Life of Brian. They would separate to work on their personal projects, but they would always come back. But they got the work process wrong with The Meaning of Life. Lessons of creation were forgotten. The joy was gone.

When Chapman died, the unraveling of the knot that kept them together quickened. They tried to reunite, but there was always someone to veto a project, whether it be TV, movie, or tour. While they still professed their love for one another, it was clear to me by this book's publication in 2003 that Monty Python had ceased to be as a creative entity.

While there was an abundance of detailed material for their early years, it seemed like when the joy was gone, so too went many of the details. All of these non-Python side projects they were involved in left huge gaps between events in the Python history. The interview format kind of broke down with grudges and hurt feelings creeping in. Subjective accounts obscured objective reality, forcing the reader to deduce what actually happened.

I'm glad that I read it, but now it's more of a reference book than something to revisit for nostalgia's sake, which I guess is why I read it in the first place.

4 stars

\_/
DED

Book Review: Star in Bankruptcy

Jordahk isn't sure who or what he is anymore, and just trying to be “normal” is becoming increasingly challenging. As adulthood looms he'll face his greatest challenges yet both personally and in space.

For Janus hasn't been idle. His schemes within schemes will launch the First Cruiser into the most audacious stratagem since the Sojourners' Crusade. Perhaps only the mystic technology from that era has a chance to stop the Prime Orator's designs.

But neither Jordahk nor his grandfather can currently operate on that level. When the most eclectic space battle in centuries begins, only desperation will bring one side to victory.

This is book three in the Tethered Worlds series. With over a thousand pages published so far, this isn't a series you can pick up in the middle. You really have to start from the beginning. Here are links to spoiler-free reviews for books one and two.

If you've made it this far into the series, you're familiar with the universe that Faccone has built and the factions contending with one another for power in this space opera. You need to be, of course, as Faccone doesn't offer a refresher in what's already been published besides the occasional character reminiscing about past incidents.

Right off the bat we're back with Jordahk's family in the midst of a training exercise. But before you get disgruntled with a "not another one", Faccone throws a cyborg assassin at them. The encounter gives the reader some idea as to how far Jordahk has come in developing his fledgling sojourner skills.

After this confrontation has played out, we learn that trade negotiations are planned at Aventicia, one of the worlds in the Banking Confederation. Janus has plans in place to affect the outcome favorably for the Perigeum and himself, but the Trade Union sends a fleet of their own to provide security. And then a pirate fleet shows up to toss a match on the powderkeg.

"Sadly, war is but politics stripped of every civilized façade

While this is the longest book in the series, 569 pages, I found that it had less filler than in the two previous books. However, the inevitable confrontation that ensues when plans are set in motion takes up about half the book. While one major story arc comes to an end, it's clear that the author has more stories planned for this series.

Characterization, plotting, and world-building all remain strong. Faccone proved that in the first two books. The personalities of the various characters are well-developed and distinct. The setting is rich with detail. Unfortunately, typos remain an issue: My notes highlight misused or missing apostrophes and spelling errors.

Bankrupt Star is a fine addition to the Tethered Worlds series. While there isn't as much exploration or side quest action as the two previous works, the plot is more focused and the stakes are just as high. It's still big and bold space opera with a protagonist you can root for as he grows to fill some very big, heroic shoes.

4 stars.

\_/
DED

Book Review: A Song for Quiet

Deacon James is a rambling bluesman straight from Georgia, a black man with troubles that he can't escape, and music that won't let him go. On a train to Arkham, he meets trouble — visions of nightmares, gaping mouths and grasping tendrils, and a madman who calls himself John Persons. According to the stranger, Deacon is carrying a seed in his head, a thing that will destroy the world if he lets it hatch.

This story really could've been something. The blues mixed with Lovecraft. Definite potential.

We meet Deacon James while he's riding a train to Arkham, famed fictional city of Lovecraft's. Between his recent past and this quote, I connected with him right off the bat.

Deacon looks up as civilization robs the night of its endlessness, finger painting globs of light and farmhouses across the countryside.

I was thinking that this might've been an update to Lovecraft's "The Music of Erich Zahn."

Raw, unevenly syncopated, the music's a clatter of droning notes, looping into themselves, like a man mumbling a prayer.
...
No trace of the blues, no ghost of folk music, not even the wine-drunk laughter of big-city jazz or the thunder of gospel. Only a hard lump of yearning that snags like fishbones in his throat as he plays, plays, plays, improvisation, frantically straining to wrench the bassline into familiar waters.

But then the story ran into problems. First off, Deacon himself. He struggled to carry the story. He got off to a great start, but then spent the rest of the story running in fear. I didn't need an action hero, but I wanted him to either confront his emotional burden or make a feint towards dealing with the social injustices he regularly encountered. His actions at the climax of the story might've been perceived that way, but it could also be perceived as surrender. I can't say anything more without spoiling it.

And the way Khaw handled him when he first encountered Ana seemed abrupt. There was no parley, no interpersonal recon. He instantly bonded with her as if she were a long lost daughter. That isn't hyperbole.

I was disappointed that Khaw didn't make use of Arkham besides name dropping. There's nothing in the story that really made use of it. This could be set in Anytown, USA, circa 1950.

I really liked Persons in the first book, but here he's pushed into a supporting role. While his narration in the first book could be a bit much at times, it always lent itself to the story. Maybe this book should've been published first with Persons' minor role serving as an introduction to the character, piquing the reader's interest to learn more.

In Hammers on Bone, Khaw used noir and metaphors to set the scene and help build the story towards its climax. But here the noir was replaced by a wall of purple prose. It was wonderful at times ("cutlery scraping over crockery"), as the above quotes hint at, but then it became repetitive. Later, it meandered like so much jazz improvisation that I lost all sense of what was going on. I had to re-read parts a couple of times, scrutinize sentences, to piece together what was actually happening, find some semblance of structure. It was there though, buried beneath a lovely purple blur.

The resolution proved unsatisfying, so all I was left with was a bunch of lovely prose. So, 2.5 stars because I needed more.

\_/
DED

Book Review: Hammers on Bone

John Persons is a private investigator with a distasteful job from an unlikely client. He's been hired by a ten-year-old to kill the kid's stepdad, McKinsey. The man in question is abusive, abrasive, and abominable.

He's also a monster, which makes Persons the perfect thing to hunt him. Over the course of his ancient, arcane existence, he's hunted gods and demons, and broken them in his teeth.

The story opens with the kid in Persons' office, looking to hire him for the job. Persons' dialogue is all 1930s-40s gumshoe, including using terms for women that would be considered sexist today ("dame", "skirt", "broads", etc.), but excusable for the time period. Khaw follows it up by creating a juicy noir atmosphere.

The cold feels good, real good, a switchblade chill cutting deep into the cancer of a thousand years' nap.

But as chapter one starts winding down, I realize that the story isn't taking place back then, it's contemporary.

These days, it's all bae and fleek, bootylicious selfies and cultural appropriation done on brand.

It was jarring, and no explanation was given. It would've made more sense to either place the story back several decades or update Persons' slang to something more fitting of the times.

I loved the way Khaw made use of scents to describe how Parsons interacted with his environment.

There's a pervasive smell in the hallway. Not quite a stench, but something unpleasant. Like the remnants of a molly party, or old sex left to crust on skin.

Khaw then uses that scent imagery to let the Lovecraft vibe seep in.

The stink grows strong: less human, more maritime malfeasance. A reek of salt and hard use, of drowned things rotten with new life.

Until it's staring at us, straight in the face.

In his agitation, his skin splits, spreads to frame a moist blue eye, cataracted and lethargically sullen.

From here on, Khaw goes all in on body horror visceral imagery that echoes Lovecraft.

The thing in his neck is a blasphemy, a mutagenic outrage of flesh, an insult to man and beast and all of us that came crawling out of the ocean before.

But by the time the story reaches its climactic battle, I grew weary of the constant fleshy metaphors in the narrative. The whole sinew, squishy flesh metaphors, and too many eyeballs references lost their impact on me. And the battle itself, which had been built up to be this epic clash didn't really feel epic to me. It was kind of over before I knew it.

What I thought was much better was the epilogue. The conversation that takes place there between Parsons (There's a second book and Parsons is in the blurb so that wasn't a spoiler!) and the acolyte was really enjoyable. Khaw brings in a deity that Lovecraft rarely used and thus got to shape said deity in an interesting way that, for me, made up for things.

4 stars.

\_/
DED