Tobias Buckell, Ragamuffin

Ragamuffin by Tobias Buckell
TOR

Tobias Buckell’s second novel, Ragamuffin, a sequel to his well-received debut, Crystal Rain, follows the same form that Buckell established in his first. The novel comes in at a little over 300 pages in the hardcover form, tiny compared with most of books being published these days. However, the story being told is anything but small. Buckell is just not wasting any words.

Unlike the first novel, where the entire story plays out on a single world, in a struggle between two primarily human forces, Ragamuffin greatly expands the scope of both Buckell’s universe, and the issues being presented by the story. The story begins on a far away world in the universe that Crystal Rain’s world, Nanegeda, has been cut off from for over 300 hundred years. There are a few alien races encountered, though more are dwelling behind the scenes of the novel. The focus of this book is the human plight in this Universe, subject to a race called the Satraps either directly or through the influence of other Satrapy controlled species.

Nashara, the new prime character in this novel, is on the run from Satrapy controlled forces and attempting to find a free human holding in the universe. Nashara was from a planet called Chimson, founded by the same people who founded Nanegeda, and she was originally sent on a mission to try to reconnect with that settlement. Both Chimson and Nanegeda have been removed from the system, so Nashara is trying to improvise… with very mixed results.

John de Brun, Pepper, and Jerome, primary characters from Crystal Rain, also play a prominent role in this novel, roughly 7 years after the events in CR.

Overall, I enjoyed this novel, and found it just as rewarding as the first. Again, I maintain that the book could use another 20 to 30 pages to more fully develop characters, political situations, and even a few of the scenes. While the quick development and pacing of the story does lead to a very vibrant story, a little more here and there could do a great deal of help. Still this is a fun and entertaining read, complete with an interesting created universe, and the development of some interesting political and social dynamics to add depth to the narrative.

My primary complaint about the novel is that I felt the very end of the novel fell more than a little short. The story had a great build to climax, then all of the sudden there are a quick succession of many short little chapters that jump from character to character, situation to situation. It isn’t exactly clear what is being addressed. What exactly is the fallout and development after the climax? What is the relationship between what happened and the the final few scenes? The book just seemed to blow apart a bit in the last 20 pages or so.

Ragamuffin by Tobias Buckell is a solid space opera novel, a great sequel to a very strong first novel. Nashara, Pepper, and John de Brun are interesting characters. All in all, I certainly recommend both Crystal Rain and Ragamuffin to any and all readers.

Another thoughtful MJH blog article and a commentary on an obit

Although there was an earlier blog article back in February about a related issue of "worldbuilding," M. John Harrison has recently expounded upon this in a very provocative blog entry this week. It certainly is food for thought, especially for those readers such as myself who enjoy not knowing how each step in the story (or by extension, the writing process) was constructed. Sometimes, a bit of strangeness goes a long way in shocking us out of our "normal" trains of thoughts. Shall be interesting to see what the blogosphere will make of this, considering the ruckus last February.

***

Last night, I came across a link to an obituary of sorts regarding Robert Jordan's recent death. It was a rather odd read, careening from lamenting about how "popular" fantasies are not judged leniently (or fairly) by the "critical elites" (with a few odd references to Le Guin and Ligotti which were not developed) to a sort of lengthy breakdown of how the series didn't "work" for many. Dropping Gemmell like a hot potato after mentioning a anecdote about last year's World Fantasy Convention, the writer goes on to take a few potshots at Stephen King's The Dark Tower series while noting how it felt to many that the WoT series had "gone off the rails," although perhaps not "Crazy Train" style.

When reading it, I couldn't tell what exactly the writer hoped to achieve with this entry. Was he burying or praising RJ, or trying to do both at the same time? Was the intended focus on the person who just died, or on the problems with the eleven main WoT books published in the author's lifetime? Is RJ an author worthy of the mass lamentations, as the opener seems to indicate by inference, or was the corpus of work rather more of a colossial failure?

So many different ways of reading this article that it is hard to tell for sure just what really was the purpose of this piece. Perhaps in time it'll come to me.

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Later this weekend, I hope to have a joint review of two recent Charles de Lint releases/re-releases, Promises to Keep and The Ivory and the Horn, as well as a review of Neil Gaiman's 2006 short story collection, Fragile Things, for people to read. Later this month, I hope to read at least some of the following novels for reviews here:

Karl Schroeder, Queen of Candesce

Martin H. Greenberg and Loren L. Coleman (eds.), Wizards, Inc.

Peter Dickinson, Angel Isle

Amelia Atwater-Rhodes, Wyvernhall

Jeff Somers, The Electric Church

Faith Hunter, Host

Naomi Novik, Empire of Ivory


As well as writing reviews of various novels/collections that I've purchased in recent weeks, including reviews of all the WFA finalists for Best Novel and Best Story Collection. Hopefully, October will be a much more active month for me on the blogosphere than was September. Looking forward to reading these and other books and reviewing them here and on my other blog.

Review of Jeffrey Ford's WFA-nominated The Empire of Ice Cream

Lately, it seems that every time that I click on Locus or search through the usual suspects on the Blogosphere, that I encounter Jeffrey Ford's name. It might be for a story of his being published in some upcoming anthology, or perhaps a recommendation on a website for readers to read his excellent trilogy of stories that star Cley the Physiognomist. Sometimes, I'll read a glowing review of his Portrait of Mrs. Charbuque or his recent 2007 Nebula Award-nominated novel, Girl in the Glass. The guy is prolific and based on what I have read of his works, he is a very talented writer.

But until I decided to purchase his 2006 short story collection, The Empire of Ice Cream, after learning it was up for the 2007 World Fantasy Award for Best Collection, I never had read more than excerpts of any of his short stories. After recently completing a read-through of the 14 stories contained in The Empire of Ice Cream, I regret that I had procrastinated in reading them, as these are some of the more moving and well-written short stories that I've read in quite some time.

Although these stories were written over a period of years, there are some common characteristics that the stories share. In particular, I noticed that the narrators tend to have this sense of wonder, as if the world they are experiencing is totally new and unexpected to them. After reading many cynical and self-referencing stories over the years, this is a refreshing change of pace.

But without a gripping story told with a measured pace, the stories would mean little. However, although it's been almost a month since I read it, I can still see visual images such as that of the title story, where the narrator "smells" a new world with each fragrant whiff of coffee that floats to his nose.

Or perhaps I ought to spend some time discussing the novella "Botch Town" that is also up for a WFA for Best Novella this year. It is one of the cornerstones of this collection and it is, as Ford himself says in the story notes, a homage of sorts to the town where he grew up and to the various people, good and not-so-good alike, that he came to know during his time living there. This story in particular "lives" in the sense that one can connect with the narrator, empathize with what is going on, connect the supporting characters with people we've known growing up, all with a style that makes it feel both comfortable and mysterious at the same time.

As a whole, The Empire of Ice Cream reads very fast, as it was very difficult for me to read just one or two stories at a time. No, I wanted to read them all, to embrace them as old friends, to just reflect upon the emotions that reading these tales invoked in me. This was a damn fine collection from one of the more criminally-overlooked authors of the fantastic out there today. Go out and buy this ASAP.

Summary: The Empire of Ice Cream is a 2006 collection of short stories from 2002-2006, most of them reprints from earlier anthologies, that is up for consideration for the 2007 World Fantasy Award for Best Collection. Ranging from nostalgic whimsy to something a bit darker and almost sinister, these fourteen tales are superbly-written, with the title story and "Botch Town" (itself up for a WFA for Best Novella) being the two firsts among equals in this collection. Might be one of the favorites to win in this category. Highly, highly recommended.

Publication Date: April 2006 (US), Hardcover.

Publisher: Golden Gryphon Press

Review of Glen Hirshberg's WFA-Nominated American Morons

Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee:--
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
I see thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I draw.
Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going;
And such an instrument I was to use.
Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses,
Or else worth all the rest: I see thee still;
And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,
Which was not so before.

MacBeth, Act II Scene I

Horror is more than just a sudden visceral image of splattered guts or corpse faces forever locked into twisted images of bloodcurdling terror. Horror is something of the mind, perhaps present, perhaps just a figment of an overexcited imagination. In some of the best horror stories, we do not know until near the end whether or not the sensations that the characters are feeling are due to real or imagined stimuli.

In Glen Hirshberg's World Fantasy Award-nominated short story collection, American Morons, there are moments in each of these stories where the characters have a palpable sense of dread. Sometimes, this sense is false and the characters move on, shaken but still alive, while at other times, the dread proves to be a harbinger for something more ghastly than what the characters (and by extension, the reader) might expect.

American Morons contains seven stories within its 191 pages. The strongest of these is the title story, which deals with an American couple whose car breaks down in Italy and their "help" may have other things on their minds than being Good Samaritans. This story manages to hit all of the emotional buttons at the right time, causing the reader to take heed of the characters' plight, of their psychological problems, of the rising tension where the heart starts to pound and the breaths come out ragged and quick. "American Morons" serves as the perfect introduction to this collection.

However, many of the other stories do not fulfill completely the promise of the first tale. Sometimes things are explained a bit too much, letting the perceptive reader see the mirrors being employed for the narrative illusion due to take place. Other stories, like "Safety Clowns," take too long to develop and that crisis moment feels more like a "this sucks" moment rather than a "OMG! What can I do?" one.

Although these relatively minor flaws in pacing prevent me from believing American Morons to be the best of the five collections nominated for the WFA this year, the stories are worth reading and considering.

Summary: American Morons is a 2006 story collection that is up for a WFA for Best Single-Author Collection. Comprised of seven stories over 191 pages, American Morons takes "real-life" settings and twists and warps them in ways that provide moments of terror for the characters. Despite the strong promise of the opening title story, the other stories vary somewhat in mood and in quality, leading to a reading experience that ranges from superb down to merely good. Despite this, the stories have enough positives going for them to merit a read. Recommended for short story aficionados.

Release Date: October 2006 (US), Hardcover

Publisher: Earthling

Thoughts on Brandon Sanderson's Mistborn novels and Brian Ruckley's Winterbirth

Although I finished reading both the two Mistborn novels (The Final Empire and the recently-released sequel, The Well of Ascension) by Brandon Sanderson and Brian Ruckley's just-released debut trilogy opener, Winterbirth, a couple of months ago, I have been searching for how best to say what I want about these novels that will not repeat what others (including my colleague here, Jake, has said about the two Mistborn novels and about Winterbirth). So, after almost three months of deliberations, I am going to be talking more generally about what these books brought to mind more than about specific strengths and weaknesses of the individual books. Hopefully, this will serve as a complement to some of the reviews out there.

Over the past couple of years, I have noticed a shift of sorts in the labelling and promoting multi-volume epic fantasies. Starting with the rise in popularity around 2000 of George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series after the publication of its lauded third volume, A Storm of Swords, many more epic fantasies were published that eschewed the older formula of a naive adolescent or bumpkin isolated from the currents of his/her society who would, under the almost-always temporary tutelage of a mage/mentor, rise out of obscurity to save the city/kingdom/world realm from the evil machinations of some long-slumbering but finally awake dark evil force. Instead, series such as Steven Erikson's Malazan Book of the Fallen, R. Scott Bakker's Prince of Nothing, or Gregory Keyes's latest series that began with The Briar King concentrated much more on world-wise and weary protagonists or on a "good" that wasn't necessarily Ivory pure or a "bad" that wasn't Thorogood-style bad to the bone. The characters often suffered in much more explicit ways than the protagonists of most of the earlier epic fantasies of the 1970s and 1980s appeared to suffer, and occasionally lead supporting characters would die rather than overcoming miraculously their wounds or surviving the long odds against them. The descriptor "gritty" was applied to these works, setting them off from the older works, which were often perceived as being puerile or outdated in the minds of many of their supporters.

Brian Ruckley's debut novel in his Godless World trilogy, Winterbirth, is the latest of these series to be labelled with this "gritty" tag. Alex Lencicki, the Marketing and Publicity Director for Orbit US, in the press kit describes Winterbirth as "invok[ing] the violence of 300 and the epic scope of J.R.R. Tolkien. It is a book about honor, fanaticism, and war, set in a landscape that is as grim as it is dramatic."

To an extent, this is true. The action here is very unrelenting and grim. It opens with a prologue devoted to a heroic scene from a group that perhaps might best be viewed as being "the bad guys." This group, the Black Road, has an apocalyptic religious world-view and their flight into exile, depicted in that same prologue, ends up with them returning to their old stomping grounds over a generation later. In the interim, there are many tribal-like groups fighting for political dominance in a clan-based hierarchy, with leaders/rulers called Thanes leading each of these clans. Those familiar with Gaelic (Scottish even more so than pre-Strongbow Irish) history will almost immediately notice the similarities in these often chaotic power-sharing arrangements.

While I would agree with those who say that the setting feels "gritty" and more "realistic" than a great many other epic fantasies on the market, I cannot give unqualified praise to this novel. The first two-thirds of Winterbirth were rather sluggish, being overly devoted to showing Thane this and supporter that, not to mention there was this sense of an anachronistic world-view when it came to power arrangements. While the clan-like structures ostensibly represent a sort of cod-honor-based system, the religious movements and organization of the Black Road in particular was much more strongly aligned with the world-views and perceptions of people living after an Age of Science-type revolution. This clash in values probably explains why I had a difficult time relating to the characters and their situations, as I could not ignore this sense of "wrongness" about the societies and I think this boiled over into how I approached the characters. There were some seemingly important characters that were killed during the course of this novel, but I was unable to form any sense of attachment to them, thus weakening the novel's impact in my opinion. In many cases, the "grittiness" just did not lead to a very well-realized novel, although there certainly were enough positives, including the mostly well-done development of the apparent "bad guy" of the series, for me to at least desire to read the second volume to see if the promising glints that I caught might be developed enough to make this a worthwhile series.

Before I discuss Brandon Sanderson's novels, I want to use a quote taken from the Publishers Weekly starred review of Winterbirth to highlight a point about that novel and the two Mistborn novels:

The author's unapologetically stark yet darkly poetic narrative displays a refreshing lack of stereotypical genre conventions, ensuring a fervent audience of epic fantasy fans looking for something innovative in a genre that can be anything but.

This quote highlights a divide that appears to be occurring these days in epic fantasies. Many reviewers and readers have come to equate dark, "gritty" fantasies with "refreshing lack of stereotypical genre conventions," as if being all of this one style makes that style somehow automatically better than books that might be more closely aligned with an older style of genre conventions. It is hard, of course, to be "innovative" when everybody else is starting to move into what you are wanting to do, and I think this is something to keep in mind in the coming years as I suspect we'll start to see a backlash of sorts against the overly "gritty" fantasies, just as we've been seeing backlashes against the farmboy trope, the inclusion of doughty dwarves and aloof elves in D&D-style derivative narratives, or of the ten-plus volumes of a WoT-like mega-epic. I started college just when "Alternative" pushed aside the "Hair Metal" bands and when it was oh-so-cool to be ironic and non-conformist in a way that conformed with many others being ironic and non-conformist. Nihil sub sole novus est...

But just because one chooses to use some of the older conventions does not mean that the story cannot be enjoyable or even innovative in places. Those who believe this might point out Brandon Sanderson's Mistborn trilogy, now with the second volume, The Well of Ascension, in bookstores. There are no real shades of grey characters driving the plot, nor are there buckets of blood waiting to be poured out on the battlefields with vultures circling off in the distance. Instead, we see something a bit smaller, something perhaps more akin to a naive country bumpkin stumbling upon a great inner power, but we see it done differently and perhaps with more sincerity behind it.

Sanderson in his novels has started with a rather interesting question: What would happen if a prophesized hero were to fail at his task? What if the destined Frodo-like character had instead seized the forbidden power and had become corrupted? What would happen in a world where a Dark Lord would indeed reign for a thousand years?

This is an interesting premise and in enticing teaser quotes that open each chapter of both The Final Empire and The Well of Ascension, we see that matters of good and evil can belie the simple surface layer and be complex without having to have explicit suffering and bloodshed. Archetypes such as the Thief and the Thief's Assistant are recast in these novels in ways that revitalize those character types and which introduce elements of surprise, attachment, and ultimately mourning. While Sanderson's prose is far from what I would call elegant, it certainly is serviceable for the needs of this tale and the characterizations and dialogue are an improvement over his first published novel, Elantris. The above-described Kelsier and Vin, while ultimately quite powerful in their mastery of a rather unique form of magic called allomancy (where there are 10 commonly-known metals that can be "burned" by adepts in short spurts to provide certain powers such as increased strength or the ability to mask oneself from other adepts), are rather more flawed and human-like in their actions and interactions with others than what often has been the case in multi-volume epic fantasies. It is rather obvious from reading Sanderson's novels and his interviews that the author is an optimistic person and in these novels, that sense of hope and joy of life pervades the pages and provides a lighter view of the imagined world than what one would find in the "gritty" novels such as Winterbirth.

While I ultimately liked the Mistborn novels a slight bit more than Winterbirth, I have to admit that each ultimately accomplishes most of their intended goals. While Winterbirth mostly captures that sense of a grim, rugged, violent "reality" that Ruckley sought to show in his narrative, Sanderson's Mistborn novels radiate a more positive, "light" approach towards storytelling that serves to demonstrate that one can take an older model and still find some innovative approaches left to explore. Although there are many flaws in both in regards to the pacing and plot structuring, I would in the end recommend both of these for readers based on whichever style they happen to prefer most.

Publication Dates: Winterbirth, September 10, 2007 (US), 2006 (UK), Tradeback (US), Paperback, Hardcover (UK). Publisher: Orbit Books

Mistborn: The Final Empire, 2006 (US), Hardcover. 2007, Paperback.

Mistborn: The Well of Ascension, August 2007 (US), Hardcover. Publisher: Tor

Ray Bradbury, The Homecoming

Ray Bradbury holds a special place in my book-loving heart. Ever since my maternal grandmother gave me a 1957 SFBC edition of his The Martian Chronicles for my thirteenth birthday in 1987, I have been drawn into his stories of rocket travel, of tattooed men bearing stories on their bodies, of evil carnivals, and so many other tales. But there is one story of his, that of little ten year-old Timothy and his family, that has been a delight to me for years. Although a few years ago Bradbury expanded his The Homecoming into the delightful but bittersweet From the Dust Returned, the original short story, first published in 1946, has had a power of its own.

So it was with great delight when I was browsing the shelves at a local bookstore today, the first day of what I tend privately to call "Bradbury Month" for the strong associations of his stories to the month of October, that I happened to discover that there was a new, standalone edition of The Homecoming, with illustrations by no other than Dave McKean himself, of Sandman fame.

The story itself, 56 pages in this edition, deals with poor misfit Timothy. Unlike the vampires, ghouls, and other fey creatures in his family, little Timothy was born able to breathe, to endure the sun's rays, to have a beating heart, and to be blessed/cursed with having a mortal lifespan. The story opens with news of a great family reunion, or Homecoming, set to take place in his parents' house. From all across the globe, in various monstrous forms, his vampiric relatives travel to meet in one of their centennial celebrations.

Bradbury does a masterful job of using words to set the mood. From the various pauses for effect to the situational irony that pervades the scenes in which Timothy meets his far-flung relatives, this is a story that begs to be read aloud one autumn night when the first frost is in the air and the leaves have begun to fall to the forest grounds. This mood is only heightened with McKean's spooky illustrations that not only set off the imagery created by Bradbury's words, but they also serve to heighten the overall effect of the story, causing the reader to pause for a moment to consider just how wonderfully creepy the entire affair really is.

The Homecoming is one of Bradbury's most famous stories and in this illustrated edition, it really has received a gorgeous treatment. I cannot recommend this highly enough for readers. This is a book that demands to be read, aloud preferably, over and over again, especially during this time of the year.

Publication Date: August 2006 (US), Hardcover

Publisher: Collins Design

Review of Lucius Shepard's Softspoken

Lucius Shepard may have flown under your radar; he certainly flew under mine until now. For an author who has won the Campbell Award for Best New Writer, not to mention Nebula and Hugo Awards for his novellas and short stories, Shepard has been one of those authors about whom much has been said, but until this past month, I never bit. I wish I had before now, because his latest short novel, Softspoken, is a gorgeous piece of writing.

Instead of being a work of magic realism or cyberpunk, two subgenres in which Shepard has written many stories over the past twenty years, Softspoken starts as an updated Southern Gothic novel. Set in rural South Carolina, Softspoken opens in the third-person point of view of Chapel Hill, NC transplant Sanie Bullard, who has been dragged south to the land of pretentious snobs (Charleston) and woefully-ignorant rednecks. As she bemoans her fate, she reveals that her apparent dullard of a husband, Jackson, has moved back to his family's decaying, ramshackle ancestral home. While this might sound like a rather stock opener, Shepard's use of descriptive language and situational irony (as the opener to chapter two below shall reveal) make for a gripping opening experience.

Like many people from North Carolina, Sanie considers most South Carolinians to be either snooty and pretentious (Charleston types) or low-class and ignorant (the rest). The irony attaching to this point of view is not lost on her, yet she adheres to it, and the next morning, in keeping with her attitude, she wriggles into a pair of cut-offs and a raggedy T-shirt, Daisy Duke redneck-slut drag, prior to walking to Snade's Corners, a general store and gas station that lies at the end of the dirt road leading to the house. She means to engage the citizenry in visual terms to which they can relate and thus bridge the cultural divide. She seeks to infiltrate, to access secret hick lore that may come in handy for the grad-level creative writing workshop she intends to take once she and Jackson return to Chapel Hill. But either her disguise is ineffective or some behavioral tic gives her away, because when she reaches the store - a one-story structure of brown-painted boards, with a peaked roof that extends out over the gas pumps - and steps to the counter to pay for her Diet Pepsi, the cashier, a thirtyish, prematurely balding lout with a potbelly the site of a watermelon and a face remarkable only for an unfortunately Fu Manchu and soul patch, says, "You Jackson Bullard's wife, ain'tcha?"

Sanie acknowledges this is the case, though she hates the name Bullard. Sanie Bullard sounds to her like the name of a character in a story by a writer whom she would not admire, a faux-Southern regionalist with a faintly malodorous literary cachet.

In this quoted piece, not only do we see the conflict between how Sanie views herself and her surroundings, but we also get a sense that she is quite self-centered and perhaps not half as clever as she presumes herself to be. In the remainder of this scene, there is a scent of a comedy of manners approach, but Shepard is quick to twist this into something a bit more ominous.

Sanie has an interesting set of in-laws. From her father-in-law, Rayfield, to her peyote-using brother-in-law Will and his equally odd sister, Louise, Sanie finds herself confronting a family that may hold much more secrets than even the centuries-old house that they inhabit. Soon, she starts to hear a mysterious and chilling voice, and she shifts back and forth from wondering if it might be a cruel prank played on her by her in-laws, or if it might be something supernatural and potentially threatening.

The remaining pages of Softspoken are devoted to exploring this mystery, with a few twists along the way that ratchet up the tension level to very palpable levels. Shepard displays a very keen ear for how the passages ought to sound and Sanie's voice pervades this piece in such a way as to make the ending all that more exciting and terrifying, all the more so because it stays true to its own inner tale and not to any perceived plot conventions.

Considering this is the month in which things begin to die around us, a month which winds down in a celebration before the beginning of an ancient honoring of the dead souls on November 1-2, Softspoken is a tale that brings forth our ancient preconceptions of the literal and figurative ghosts that haunt our own lives.

Summary: Softspoken is a slender 179 page short novel that uses a limited third-person PoV and a Southern Gothic getting to tell a story that is in turns wry and terrifying in how the characters interact and act in reaction to a "voice" that the main character, Sanie Bullard, hears. Shepard has a deft touch with his words and the scenes just build up to a very tense and explosive finale that will satisfy most horror readers. Pace is excellent, with nuanced characters to provide variety in the dialogue and in the plot development. Highly recommended for all readers.

Publication Date: April 2007 (US), Hardcover

Publisher: Night Shade Books