Gene Wolfe, The Urth of the New Sun

Having cast one manuscript into the seas of time, I now begin again. Surely it is absurd; but I am not - I will not be - so absurd myself as to suppose that this will ever find a reader, even in me. Let me describe then, to no one and nothing, just who I am and what it is that I have done to Urth (p. 1)

These words which open Gene Wolfe's The Urth of the New Sun, serve to describe the difficulty many readers have had in placing this book in context with the four-volume The Book of the New Sun. It has been referred to by Wolfe and others as a "coda" of sorts, a little piece separate in mood and tone from the preceding volumes that is nonetheless attached as an addendum that refers back to the prior work as a basis for its own story. Published in 1987 due to a request from Wolfe's editor, David Hartwell, that there be at least something that explained what happened to Severian and the mysterious "New Sun," The Urth of the New Sun has confounded and frustrated numerous readers over the past twenty years. As I have done with the previous volumes, I plan on discussing a few thematic elements in the book (while admitting that there certainly shall be fascinating elements that I will not touch upon, similar to how I left certain areas blank in the other New Sun books so readers could discover/discuss that themselves), so for those who fear "spoilers" like elementary kids fear cooties, this post might not be for you.

The story opens ten years after Severian has returned as Autarch to Nessus. Now known as Severian the Lame due to the injury he received in The Citadel of the Autarch, Severian is finally ready to assume the task hinted at in Father Inire's letter (a letter which bears careful reading for its shifts in style); he is going to seek to bring the New Sun to Urth, so that the old, red sun might be rejuvenated and that life on Urth might be renewed. Severian has boarded a seven-sided, multi-masted "ship" that sails "between the suns" and dips and darts in time. This ship is set to leave Severian's universe for the "higher" one of Yesod, seeking that a "white fountain," which is a mass of energy/matter spilling from that universe into the next-lower (or Severian's) one, could be used to replace the matter lost by Severian's sun (which apparently has had a small black hole enter it, draining it of matter). It is this quest and its immediate aftermath that has frustrated and appealed to so many of Wolfe's readers.

Like the ship mentioned above, the narrative seems to dip and dart back and forth like a darning needle through time. Severian encounters all sorts of people on this ship, some of whom have been sent by Abaia to thrawt Severian's quest. Of those who wish Severian to fail, one fears the changes that are predicted to occur. Severian himself reflects back to when he was part of Dr. Talo's play (found near the end of The Claw of the Conciliator), in which his "character" speaks these lines:

In future times, so it has long been said, the death of the old sun will destroy Urth. But from its grave will rise monsters, a new people, and the New Sun. Old Urth will flower as a butterfly from its dry husk, and the New Urth shall be called Ushas. (p. 65)

This prophecy, which extends from the time of the Conciliator, contains an interesting word: Ushas. This name, derived from the Hindu goddess of the dawn, symbolizes a dawning of a new age, one which becomes even more apparent as Severian finally comes into full contact with the Hierogrammate Tzadkiel, who is named after the Angel of the Mercy of the Lord according to Cabbalistic tradition.

Severian has known the entire time that his journey shall end in a trial, a trial in which if he fails, he will be emasculated, transformed into an androgyne, and Urth shall be fated to die a cold, wintry death as seen in the vision of Master Ash's house back in The Citadel of the Autarch. But as he goes, he comes to discover there are more levels to this journey and trial than meeting up with the most holy of slaves. The scene below is from the ship's arrival at Yesod (which is apparently the name given to the planet as well as to the universe). Pay close attention to the wording:

One of the cloaked women mounted a seat and clapped her hands for quiet. Because the sailors' high spirits had not been fueled with wine, she was soon obeyed, and my riddle answered: through the thin walls I could hear, however faintly, the rush of the icy air of Yesod. No doubt I had heard it before without being conscious of it.

"Dear friends," the woman began. "We thank you for your welcome and your help, and for all the many kindnesses all of you have shown us on board your vessel."

Various sailors spoke or shouted replies, some merely good-natured, others glowing with that rustic politeness which makes the manners of courtiers seem so cheap.

"Many of you are yourselves from Urth, I know. Perhaps it would be well to determine how many. May I see a show of hands? Raise one hand, please, if you were born upon the world called Urth."

Nearly everyone present raised his hand.

"You know that we have condemned the peoples of Urth, and why. They now feel they have earned our forgiveness, and the chance to resume the places they held of old -"

Most of the sailors booed and jeered, including Purn, but not (as I noted) Gunnie.

"And they have dispatched their Epitome to claim it for them. That he lost heart and concealed himself from us should not be counted against him or them. Rather we consider that the sense of his world's guilt so manifested should be reckoned in their favor. As you see, we are about to take him to Yesod for his assize. Even as he will represent Urth in the dock, so must others represent it on the gradins. None of you need come, but we have your captain's permission to take from among you those who wish to come. They will be returned to this ship before it sailds again. Those who do not should leave us now." (p. 112-113)

Although it had only been alluded to until then, Urth had been "tried" and found guilty by the Hierogrammates, with the black hole afflicting the sun being their punishment. Although no specific reason is given to this point, one may presume it might be related to issues of rapaciousness and cruelty towards fellow humans and other beings. Severian, in both a symbolic and very real sense, is standing trial as the "epitome" of humankind. It is his character and his flaws that shall be put on trial by Tzadkiel, to see if Urth is worthy of mercy. In some senses, this scene of a single man (for in the end, nervous as he was and despite his desire to flee, Severian did present himself for judgment) standing in place of all of humanity parallels that of Christ on his cross, bearing the weight of Original Sin in traditional Catholic/Orthodox Christian teachings. As this trial progresses (I am being vaguely purposely, in case some might not have heeded my warning and are reading this before reading the book), Severian sees his life and the characters within it flash before him. It is the testimony of his enemies that speaks most clearly of the person that Severian was on Urth. It is based on this testimony that Tzadkiel grants him the white fountain, or "New Sun" to bring back to Urth.

However, this scene, climatic as it might seem, occurs roughly halfway into the novel. Severian has to travel back in time/place, using powers granted to him by Tzadkiel (some of which pre-manifested themselves to an extent, as we saw in certain scenes in the original four volumes). It turns out that Severian was not just the Conciliator, but also Apu-Punchau, who was seen briefly in the last part of The Claw of the Conciliator.

But this plot summary only scratches the surface. While some people struggled mightily with the hither-thither time-traveling aspects of the story, I think those were done to highlight how the character of Severian had grown and developed. Also, these scenes help to make clear something that until now I had only hinted at in the previous reviews.

Artifice and manipulation run rampant behind the scenes in the New Sun universe. Not only has Severian purposely neglected to share important occurrences in the story, but also there are strong hints that these Hierogrammates are stand-ins or analogues for angels. While my interpretation might not be the best in some regards (doubtless, others can jump in and share theirs in the comments section), I would argue that Wolfe purposely used the Kabbalah as a starting point for showed a theosophy that while on the surface might seem to be a just and merciful one, ended up being just one more layer of manipulation. The Hierogrammates, godlike as they might appear, are little more than creations of human-like beings from another universe who sought to replicate their image in another universe. Tzadkiel reveals this in conversation with Severian during the trial phase and it becomes quite apparent that the Hierogrammates themselves are acting upon little more than pre-programmed messages from those mysterious beings that are never seen in the Solar Cycle novels. God is off-screen, "outside" the action taking place. In fact, some like Peter Wright (see his book Attending Daedalus for his take on the Solar Cycle books) have argued that what we see in Severian's trial is but the beginning of the manipulation and not its culmination.

Why does Urth need a "Conciliator?" Why does it have to worry about scourges such as Vodalus and Agia? What were they "rebelling" against in the first place? Severian does note in passing in The Citadel of the Autarch their rebellion against "humanity," but this never really is covered openly - unless one decides, as Wright did in his book, that Severian, like the Autarchs before him, has been co-opted by the Hierogrammates to act as their "agent" on Urth. Urth has not been cooperative with the Hierogrammates' desired goals, which apparently are to take these human analogues to their old masters and to build them up to becoming them in all but the most exact of measures.

While there is much to this, I am uncertain if Wright's view is the most apt here. While he does point out the "wolfish" symbols about them (the wolf almost always appearing in some guise in Wolfe's novels), I suspect that a more traditional religious reading of Severian's trial might be as key to understanding the story as Wright's arguments for Wolfe making a case for the insidiousness of manipulation and artifice (symbols standing in place of Truth being the main one). But then again, perhaps there are more keys to be found in the other books of the Solar Cycle, which I shall review over the next week or so, albeit not necessarily in the format that I've done the New Sun books.

Dogs and Wolves

Just a very quick post with an observation and an updated schedule of reviews. I've finished all of the volumes in Wolfe's "Solar Cycle" as well as the collection Castle of Days and have begun reading the Latro books and the 2004 collection Innocents Aboard. I hope to have a review of Urth of the New Sun ready by late today, with reviews of the Book of the Long Sun books this weekend (if I decide to review each separately; I'm undecided now).

But there's one observation I'd like to make, obvious as it is to those who are familiar with the authors' works. I have noticed that in every single Wolfe novel to date that I've this year (12 books/volumes), there is always some reference to wolves. Sometimes it's literal, othertimes it's figurative, but it's always there. Reminds me of Portuguese author José Saramago (I might write short reviews of his books next year, although I'd have to translate any juicy quotes into English from the Spanish translations I have) and his beloved dogs, which appear in so many of his novels. I cannot help but wonder if there are other authors who work in a specific animal as a reference/literal object in each of their works - anyone know of any which they can share here?

Mid-week Links

Listed below are some posts that I think are worthy of being signaled out:

Eve's Alexandria has a review of Ian MacLeod's The Summer Isles. Well worth the read, especially for how the review is structured to provide enough specific information without revealing everything. The quotes cited in particular make this seem just the sort of book I'd like to read, one of inner turmoil amid a time of worrisome change.

Continuing with last week's bit on reviews, I found it quite providential that Jeff VanderMeer has cited a maxim of W.H. Auden's about what qualities a good reviewer ought to have.

Graeme's Fantasy Book Review has a short interview with horror writer Brian Keene.

William Lexner reviews Ken Follett's World Without End.

Ken over at Neth Space has graphed his review scores, with some intriguing results and conclusions.

Rob Bedford reviews Fleet of Worlds, which is one of a dozen or so review copies still remaining in my unread pile. Soon, perhaps...maybe.

Two reviews of Robert V.S. Redick's The Red Wolf Conspiracy, by Sandstorm Reviews and The Wertzone. Seems like different takes on a novel. Perhaps reading extended excerpts might help with reader opinions?

SF Diplomat writes an intriguing review of Michael Chabon's Gentlemen of the Road, with some remarks about "Jewishness" in fantasy that might be worthy of a further examination.

Jay Tomio reviews Gregory Frost's Shadow Bridge, due out within the next month or so, depending on the source. Hopefully, Del Rey will see fit to send me a review copy.

The Gravel Pit reviews Scott Lynch's Red Seas Under Red Skies.

Matthew Cheney has many links to share of interest, including the announcement of the latest LitBlog Co-op book discussion choice.

La Gringa has discovered the fun and frivolity that is at the heart of Bob Jones University's dress code. I'm waiting for her to next pull a Scalzi and take a guided tour of the South Carolina school the way Scalzi did of the Creation Museum in Kentucky.

And on that note, I'll end this post.

Gene Wolfe, The Book of the New Sun: The Citadel of the Autarch

My memories have always appeared with the intensity, almost, of hallucinations, as I have said often in this chronicle. That night I felt I might lose myself forever in them, making of my life a loop instead of a line; and for once I did not resist the temptation but reveled in it. Everything I have described to you came crowding back to me, and a thousand things more. (p. 211)

This quote from the second chapter of the concluding volume to The Book of the New Sun, The Citadel of the Autarch, serves as a foreshadowing of what the reader (as well as Severian, of course) shall experience in the course of the reading. As the series winds to a close, events and people touched upon in the previous volumes return for a time, not to mention that there is a "loop" of an even more literal sense of the word that Severian experiences during the course of this novel. So with this in mind, those who have not yet read this volume may want to wait until they have read it, since there shall be some thematic discussions as well as my first extended look at the character/personalities of Severian himself.

War is hell. It rends, it tears, it shreds its sometimes willing victims apart in ways that go beyond mere physical or emotional trauma. It is a product of two groups of people manipulating others into attempting to destroy one another. It is rather fitting that after the encounter with Typhon in The Sword of the Lictor and Severian's clash with the giant Baldanders (where Severian's sword, Terminus Est, is destroyed), we discover that Severian has gone north to where the forces of the Autarch are battling the Ascian invaders.

Wolfe does not skimp on displaying the horrors of war, having himself been a Korean War veteran. We see not just touching elements such as Severian's discovery of a dead soldier's letter (perhaps intended to hark back to a similar scene in Erich Maria Remarque's classic World War I novel, All Quiet on the Western Front), but also encounter soldiers from both sides of the conflict. While some might make the argument that the Ascian prisoner, Loyal to the Group of Seventeen is little more than a caricature of Cold War era representations of Soviet propagandists being like puppets parroting phrases learned over the course of a lifetime under an inhumane regime, I would counter by noting that this person, who in the story he tells "as translated" demonstrates quite a bit of awareness of the world, albeit shaped in a way that is very difficult for us to fathom. It is as though the worst hints of manipulation that we've seen in the earlier volumes have come to fruition in this rather decent person who cannot speak in more than platitudes that his homeland forced his people to adopt.

But this book is much more than just about the horrors of war. In many senses, this book is devoted to reintroducing characters and showing them in new lights. For example, Severian's old nemesis, Agia, has grown in her time away from Severian. Where earlier she seemed to be devoted solely to her hatred of Severian, her actions and eventual escape from the climatic scene with the wounded Autarch puts her in a Vodalus-like opposition to Severian. It is no longer just a simple personal affair but rather that her opposition has come to symbolize a sort of selfish, "anti-life" rebellion similar to that of Vodalus's against the Autarch, which Wolfe makes explicitly clear in a passage near the end of the book.

We also learn more about Dorcas and her tragic reunion with her now-elderly husband, plus we get further hints in regards to Severian's paternal ancestry. While Dr. Talos and Baldanders do not appear in this volume, there are more than enough hints given that the two represent artifice and its counterfeit nature against the "trueness" that is represented in the Autarchs. And speaking of the Autarchs, or "self-rulers," while much more about their origins is explained in the coda Urth of the New Sun, it becomes quite obvious by the end of the volume that they are the rightful rulers of Urth because they recognize that rule involves much more than just dominion over another. It involves a self-sacrifice and a heavy burden of sacrifice and commitment to the needs of others. It is for this reason, Severian reminisces, that the Autarchs have not been descended from a prior Autarch but have come from people of human origin who usually are not the greatest in any of their fields. After all, pride is an insidious thing that can emerge from the glories of greatness and greatness often is antithetical to being truly concerned with the rights of all.

And so over the course of these four volumes, the reader has encountered many base and treacherous characters. From greed and the thirst for dominion over others, we have seen people such as Vodalus, Agia, and Typhon lust. There is no love involved in their quests for power and, in Typhon's case, immortality. We have also sensed that behind this lurks the nihilistic impulses of Abaia and Erebus, those aptly-named beings who symbolize the darkness and coldness which threaten not just the physical Urth but also the spiritual well-being of its inhabitants. We have witnessed the results in the persons of the Ascians, as Severian so eloquently notes in this passage:

These Ascian soldiers had a rigity, a will-less attachment to order, that I have never seen elsewhere, and that appeared to me to have no roots in either spirit or discipline as I understand them. They seemed to obey because they could not conceive of any other course of action. (p. 352)

But opposed to these horrors is a sense of responsibility and of duty to be just and to love what can be loved among the peoples and creatures of Urth. Much has been made about the calls for the New Sun over the course of the novels (and much more on this when I review Urth of the New Sun), but in the scene where the last Autarch passes along his responsibilities to Severian, there is a passage that sums up quite well the good/evil conflict that has occurred:

"You were right to hate me, Severian. I stand...as you will stand...for so much that is wrong."

"Why?" I asked. "Why?" I was on my knees beside him.

"Because all else is worse. Until the New Sun comes, we have but a choice of evils. All have been tried, and all have failed. Goods in common, the rule of the people...everything. You wish for progress? The Ascians have it. They are deafened by it, crazed by the death of Nature till they are ready to accept Erebus and the rest as gods. We hold humankind stationary...in barbarism. The Autarch protects the people from the exultants, and the exultants...shelter them from the Autarch. The religious comfort them. We have closed the roads to paralyze the social order..."

His eyes fell shut. I put my hand upon his chest to feel the faint stirring of his heart.

"Until the New Sun..."

This was what I had sought to escape, not Agia or Vodalus or the Ascians. As gently as I could, I lifted the chain from his neck, unstoppered the vial and swallowed the drug. Then with that short, stiff blade I did what had to be done. (p. 356).

There are no clear-cut decisions to be made; only a choice of evils. Urth is an imperfect world and each choice is fraught with evil possibilities or consequences. In such a world, it is hard to hold hope, Wolfe seems to be arguing, but yet, somehow, people have managed to do so. Until the New Sun. A phrase laden with symbolic meanings of rebirth and renewal. A phrase that hints at the washing away of the old creation in ways akin to the language of Revelations. And who is to bring this New Sun?

No other than Severian. A Torturer who shows mercy in spite of the strictures placed on him. A self-deceiving and not always likable person who has undergone so many changes during the course of his travels. A person who finds a holy relic, only at the end to learn this:

At that time I did not think of it, being filled with wonder - but may it not be that we were guided to the unfinished Sand Garden? I carried the Claw even then, though I did not know it; Agia had already slipped it under the closure of my sabretache. Might it not be that we came to the unfinished garden so that the Claw, flying as it were against the wind of Time, might make its farewell? The idea is absurd. But then, all ideas are absurd.

What struck me on the beach and it struck me indeed, so that I staggered as at a blow - was that if the Eternal Principle had rested in that curbed thorn I had carried about my neck across so many leagues, and if it now rested in the new thorn (perhaps the same thorn) I had only now put there, then it might rest in anything, and in fact probably did rest in everything, in every thorn on every bush, in every drop of water in the sea. The thorn was a sacred Claw because all thorns were sacred Claws; the sand in my boots was sacred sand because it came from a beach of sacred sand. The cenobites treasured up the relics of the sannyasins because the sannyasins had approached the Pancreator. But everything had approached and even touched the Pancreator, because everything had dropped from his hand. Everything was a relic. All the world was a relic. I drew off my boots, that had traveled with me so far, and threw them into the waves that I might not walk shod on holy ground. (p. 367).

We have come full-circle; the symbols that shaped Severian's journey have mostly been unraveled. We create relics, Wolfe appears to argue, because we need them to remind us of the Increate/Pancreator. We need material things to remind us of the spiritual, for which we ever seem to be grasping. Severian is not a perfect man, but he has sought to relieve himself of his impurities. He has been through the fires of temptation, especially with Typhon, but now he is changed. He is not a Christ, but he certainly has become the ideal of a Christian, some might argue based on Wolfe's liberal sprinkling of Christian symbols throughout the narrative.

And that rose carved into that tombstone? It is a symbol for Catholics and Eastern Orthodox for the Virgin Mary and also for Christ. The fountain? It is the well-spring of the Water of Life, or of the Christ of St. John 7. The spaceship? It symbolizes the next step in Severian's life.

And the tomb itself? It is empty. Not the way that Christ's tomb is empty, but empty nonetheless due to the matter of time, which shall be addressed in the Urth of the New Sun review. Hopefully these reviews have encouraged people to re-read and to re-consider this masterpiece of literature. I know I did not touch upon everything and that some of my interpretations certainly can be challenged. Nonetheless, a work like this deserves nothing less than honest people arguing over matters of interpretation, no?

Gene Wolfe, The Book of the New Sun: The Sword of the Lictor

The Sword of the Lictor, the third volume in Gene Wolfe's The Book of the New Sun series, contains some of the most revealing and troublesome passages in the entire series. In this volume, readers begin to see somewhat clearly for the first time just how deeply layered Severian's adventures are and perhaps the astute reader can begin to sense the strings of narrative manipulation that are occurring both within and outside the written narrative. Since I shall be exploring a few passages and discussing certain events in great detail, it is highly suggested that those who have not yet read this volume refrain from reading it if they value plot details over thematic explorations.

The storyline is again resumed after yet another break in the action. We learn that not only did Severian reach Thrax and assume the office of lictor (the office itself being fraught with religious and civic meanings dating back to the Roman Republic), but that Severian once again abandoned his post and was exiled on account of showing mercy to a female prisoner. As he and Dorcas (for a time, only) flee the city, they have a fierce discussion that ultimately leads to Dorcas's departure. Traveling alone, Severian has many encounters, from the fierce alzabo, from a gland in whose head the magical elixir used in the "diabolic eucharist" of The Claw of the Conciliator is drawn, to the ultimate one with the giant Baldanders that concludes the volume.

While these adventures may provide scenes of amazement and speculation for those reading it for the first time, I want to concentrate on a few lengthy passages from this volume that I believe holds much of importance for interpreting the off-stage events of this series. The first is from the second chapter, as Severian is reflecting upon the innate savagery of humans:

One of the keepers of the Bear Tower once told me that there is no animal so dangerous or so savage and unmanageable as the hybrid resulting when a fighting dog mounts a she-wolf. We are accustomed to think of the beasts of the forest and mountain as wild, and to think of the men who spring up, as it seems, from their soil as savage. But the truth is that there is a wildness more vicious (as we would know better if we were not so habituated to it) in certain domestic animals, despite their understanding so much human speech and sometimes even speaking a few words; and there is a more profound savagery in men and women whose ancestors have lived in cities and towns since the dawn of humanity. Vodalus, in whose veins flowed the undefiled blood of a thousand exultants - exarchs, ethnarchs, and starosts - was capable of violence unimaginable to the autochthons that stalked the streets of Thrax, naked beneath their huanaco cloaks.

Like the dog-wolves (which I never saw, because they were too vicious to be useful), these eclectics took all that was most cruel and ungovernable from their mixed parentage; as friends or followers they were sullen, disloyal, and contentious; as enemies, fierce, deceitful, and vindictive. So at least I had heard from my subordinates at the Vincula, for eclectics made up more than half the prisoners there. (pp. 16-17)

Man's inhumanity to man. This is one of the oldest forms of conflict, as presented in innumerable literature classrooms across the globe over countless centuries. Homo homini lupus, which Wolfe might have been hinting at in a double entendre form with his talk of the savage dog-wolves. This comment, when viewed in light of Agia's greed and implacable hatred of Severian in the first two volumes as well as the scene of Morwenna's public humiliation and execution in Saltus that opens The Claw of the Conciliator, reinforces the notion that the ancient and exhausted world of Urth is just as full of hatred and pettiness as our own. The fact that it is an executioner making these observations only serves to underscore the irony behind the perhaps-misplaced faith that many have in the upward progression of humans via their own efforts.

Severian's encounter with the two-head Typhon about two-thirds of the way into the novel serves to illustrate a related concept: that of the loss of freedom and the chimera of dominion. Typhon, former ruler of Urth and apparently other world chiliads (or thousands) of years before Severian's time, has been revived somehow by the power of the Claw (Typhon shall also be discussed later outside the New Sun series). He exists as he does due to his appropriation of the slave Piaton's body. This is but the first of many signs in the two short chapters that Typhon appears of the insidiousness of power and its corrupting influence on those who desire to wield it. Typhon, playing the role of the New Testament Satan, tempts Severian with the offer of control of Nessus in exchange for swearing allegiance to him. Severian, although sorely tempted, resists and literally casts out Typhon from the mountain top where the two had their confrontation. Although the religious parallels are obvious and do serve to reinforce many of the religious symbols presented in the earlier book, it is the notion of freedom as opposed to dominion that is central to this scene, as we shall soon see when Severian encounters two other people in his travels after this volume.

Backtracking a bit to the discussion that Severian had with his little namesake (speculation abounds as to if this might be a parallel Severian from another time or even his own son, but I shall not weigh in on this, at least not for now), there is one other scene, rather lengthy, that I want to quote, as it underscores Wolfe's views on freedom and responsibility:

"Severian, who were those men?"

I knew whom he meant. "They were not men, although they were once men and still resemble men. They were zooanthrops, a word that indicates those beasts that are of human shape. Do you understand what I am saying?"

The little boy nodded solemnly, then asked, "Why don't they wear clothes?"

"Because they are no longer human beings, as I told you. A dog is born a dog and a bird is born a bird, but to become a human being is an achievement - you have to think about it. You have been thinking about it for the past three or four years at least, even though you may never have thought about the thinking."

"A dog just looks for things to eat," the boy said.

"Exactly. But that raises the question of whether a person should be forced to do such thinking, and some people decided a long time ago that he should not. We may force a dog, sometimes, to act like a man - to walk on his hind legs and wear a collar and so forth. But we shouldn't and couldn't force a man to act like a man. Did you ever want to fall asleep? When you weren't sleepy or even tired?"

He nodded.

"That was because you wanted to put down the burden of being a boy, at least for a time. Sometimes I drink too much wine, and that is because for a while I would like to stop being a man. Sometimes people take their own lives for that reason. Did you know that?"

"Or they do things that might hurt them," he said. The way he said it told me of arguments overheard; Becan had very probably been that kind of man, or he would not have taken his family to so remote and dangerous a place.

"Yes," I told him. "That can be the same thing. And sometimes certain men, and even women, come to hate the burden of thought, but without loving death. They see the animals and wish to become as they are, answering only to instinct, and not thinking. Do you know what makes you think?"

"My head," the boy said promptly, and grasped it with his hands.

"Animals have heads too - even very stupid animals like crayfish and oxen and ticks. What makes you think is only a small part of your head, inside, just above your eyes." I touched his forehead. "Now if for some reason you wanted one of your hands taken off, there are men you can go to who are skilled in doing that. Suppose, for example, your hand had suffered some hurt from which it would never be well. They could take it away in such a fashion that there would be little chance of any harm coming to the rest of you."

The boy nodded.

"Very well. Those same men can take away that little part of your head that makes you think. They cannot put it back, you understand. And even if they could, you couldn't ask them to do it, once that part was gone. But sometimes people pay these men to take that part away. They want to stop thinking forever, and often they say they wish to turn their backs on all that humanity has done. Then it is no longer just to treat them as human beings - they have become animals, though animals who are still of human shape. You asked why they did not wear clothes. They no longer understand clothes, and so they would not put them on, even if they were very cold, although they might lie down on them or even roll themselves up in them." (pp. 97-98)

Cruelties happen. Harsh dictators like Typhon, only concerned with their well-being and status, occur from time to time in human history. At times, these people and those misfortunes are confronted. But when people abdicate their right to determine their own futures as best as they can, when they deny the common natures of other people and instead treat them in ways that we label as being "inhumane," when people abandon hope in favor for living any which way they live, are they in fact "human?" In this passage, as well as the one already cited above, Wolfe appears to be arguing that no, no they are not "human" in the sense of how people ought to be. These man-animals, the zooanthrops of this volume or the man-apes of Claw, are the products of the self-dehumanization that Wolfe argues that occurs when one has given up their responsibility to be a true human being. This discussion, I believe, sets up the later discussions that Severian will have in Urth of the New Sun. It bears repeating that freedom and self-determination are as much of an undercurrent in this series as are the religious symbols that appear. In fact, one might argue that the two are just two sides of the same coin.

Although there is still the scene with Baldanders to explore, I wish to do that in relation to the final volume, so I shall stop here. Again, Wolfe's dictum at the end of each volume is apt. If you do not wish to read on, I understand, as there is much that I myself have not touched upon.

Here they go again...

I don't know where I'm going
But, I sure know where I've been

That opening line to Whitesnake's "Here I Go Again" (gah, I just quoted freakin' Whitesnake!) serves as a nice opener to a post where I have to stop and scratch my head in puzzlement. Although I am not a writer and probably never will be more than just a member of the internet blogging peanut gallery, the recent snafu that the Science Fiction Writers of America (SFWA) found itself engaged in was enough to be mildly irritating.

For those who are not aware of the situation, a few months ago, a cease-and-desist letter was sent to an internet file swapping site, scribd, by the Vice President of SFWA, Andrew Burt, in regards to certain stories that were listed as being available. All fine and good...except Burt didn't follow proper procedures...and he demanded the removal of fiction by Cory Doctorow, who has made all of his work available via Creative Commons. Since I'm in an 1980s quoting kick, smooth move, ex-lax.

Lots of sniping by Doctorow and others later and SFWA's anti-piracy committee, headed by Burt, was disbanded pending a restructuring. Well, they restructured it alright, calling it the Copyright Committee. Its chairperson? Why no other than the highly-esteemed Mr. Burt himself.

Needless to say, there have been the usual expected uproars. Charles Stross has one that might not be safe for those who dislike profanities of any sort. Tobias Buckell has more links, plus the announcement that he's canceling his SFWA membership. John Scalzi, who once ran for SFWA President, has his own say on this. Needless to say, the majority of the writers who have an active web presence and who have written stories this century have come out in strong condemnation of this event.

Amazing how tenacious those who have a scrap of power can be in spite of the general constituency being against their actions and policies. Shall be interesting to see what the fallout will be.

Best of 2007 Poll Results

Interesting results here, with 66 votes over the past week. Looks like there's quite a bit of diversity in the readership, as some of the results (Wolfe, Valente in particular) were pleasantly surprising to me. Look for my own Top 10 of 2007 at the end of the month:

Gene Wolfe, Pirate Freedom	5 (7%)
Dan Simmons, The Terror	6 (9%)
Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind	11 (16%)
Michael Cisco, The Traitor	0 (0%)
Emma Bull, Territory	0 (0%)
David Anthony Durham, Acacia	1 (1%)
Nalo Hopkinson, The New Moon's Arms	1 (1%)
Sarah Monette, The Mirador	1 (1%)
John Crowley, Endless Things	3 (4%)
Richard K. Morgan, Thirteen/Black Man	4 (6%)
Lucius Shepard, Softspoken	1 (1%)
Catherynne M. Valente, In the Cities of Coin and Spice	9 (13%)
Scott Lynch, Red Seas Under Red Skies	14 (21%)
Other (list in 11/24 comments)	10 (15%)