(This is a repost of my review that appeared on SF Signal recently - reposted here for posterity)
320 pages
Publisher: Tor Books; First Edition edition (June 12, 2007)
ISBN-10: 0765315076
ISBN-13: 978-0765315076
Buckell's sophomore effort is a mixed bag, with a medley of characters that span the cosmos. You will be wowed on this journey. And then you will be confused. There is a lot going on here.
Maybe I missed the inter-galactic bus here by jumping in at book 2 (Crystal Rain is the predecessor), but I don't think so. The book lacks clear labeling as to being a sequel, and it is apparent in its writing that the author wished for this to stand on its own.
As a whole, it starts strong, alternates in quality and then tries to bring it together at the end but veers wide of perfect wormhole-center.
Despite problems, I see the appeal of Buckell's storytelling: The technology is well conceived and utilized in a setting that is real and gritty. World-building is high quality and interesting in a universe with humanity under the yoke of alien masters. Under the tentacled-heel they rebel, and Buckell explores how these outliers of humanity survive. The rough-edged Ragamuffins refuse to submit, while the brainwashed enforcers of the Benevolent Satrapy--the Hongguo--up the anté in a battle that quickly escalates and reaches a head (in what I can only call too convenient in timing to fully swallow).
My biggest qualm is character, though it is clear from some chapters that Buckell can get inside their head like the cybernetic implants that abound in his story. Other times, he loses sight of their personality to serve an element of story.
Nashara is a self-centered bad ass and the central character. But then she becomes a total softy for a girl that serves no purpose. For someone that has read the story, you may call me heartless; but what point does that entire storyline serve, other than to show the Satrap's disregard for life--believe me, I was already well aware. Buckell could have still docked the ship and retrieved the much needed fuel (bloody battle and all) without any need of getting the girl or her brother. Maybe he wanted to show Nashara's humanity. But what made Nashara most human was her willingness to sacrifice herself (and others--remember, she's a bad ass) for a people she had no way of knowing still existed.
Then there is the grammar. I am no expert and feel grammar is my weakest point, but there ARE mistakes. It wouldn't have bothered me as much, except for the Carribean dialogue that compounded it all. The author pays homage to the dialect with an amount of fervor that doesn't do the story justice. The odd word order, in a substantial portion of the dialogue, just ripped me out of the story. But that's me. I like a flavor of a dialect in my stories, not an entire dish and certainly not the whole meal.
When it came to the final conflict, there was a snag that had the Ragamuffins up against the very edge, the clock laughing at them and humanity's future on the brink. I should have been chattering my teeth in dreadful anticipation of who would live or die and if anyone would survive the day at all, but you know what? I didn't. This was THE climactic scene, but what ruined it was that it was rushed through and not given the chance to breathe and be its own. It just felt like a rehashing of events that had already occurred. I didn't feel present in those scenes. There was no sense of urgency. No peril. So, as a climax to the book: it failed.
For moments of goodness and technology that intrigued I give this a halting 3 stars. Given time and proper page space I think Buckell can turn out a much better read. I'll read another, have no doubt, but for now it's on to something else.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Friday, December 24, 2010
Season Greetings
No doubt you are gleefully neck-deep in family festivities, feasting and fun. As am I, and I am loving it.
I highly doubt you'll hear much from me until after the new year. No, I won't be drunk on the egg nog (I drink my egg nog sans-rum), but I will be drunk on the heady draught of family.
I wish you all a delightful Holiday Season and a Happy New Year.
I highly doubt you'll hear much from me until after the new year. No, I won't be drunk on the egg nog (I drink my egg nog sans-rum), but I will be drunk on the heady draught of family.
I wish you all a delightful Holiday Season and a Happy New Year.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
The Catch-22 of Twitter
In my mind, most people on twitter are there to promote and sell themselves. It gives you a level of professionalism to draw upon to help in your own pursuits, however it also means that everyone is short on time—providing a gluttony of content and a severe lack of time to consume it. I see much of interest on a daily basis, but no time to do so. There is a constant battle to build followers and network versus the all important need of time to create.
Sure, there are those that dwell as socializer and imbiber of the new, interested in consumption, and not there to create. They are the ones we seek beyond words of advice. Those ripe for the picking. We wish to pull them into our following, to cull them into a fan that furthers our work and our love. But how many of them are there really?
(If my words sound uncaring and money-focused, I should clarify that for any artist, the ultimate goal is to achieve just enough fame to gain the money to continue with their work full time. We are the ones that cringe at a 9-5, shudder at paperwork, and fall pray to catatonic states when pressed for data entry, manual labor, and anything we consider menial. Which in our effort to survive artistically: becomes everything else. We don't lament those workers, we only fear those confines for ourselves, because we are bent to a different task in life. It is not more glamorous, it is just different.)
So my real question: Is there a point to twitter and all the others? Or are we just fooling ourselves? Don't get me wrong. I have found much reward within twitter, grown in my knowledge, shared my own, and found friends of value; but I do wonder if it is the road to success, or even a brick in that road.
Or, are we just committing a logical fallacy: (The Writing Excuses podcast has a good episode on this concept. Sorry, I don't recall which one.) thinking that a plethora of social networking will reward us with a book sale, game job, signed to a record label, etc.?
Should the same amount of time just be spent on honing a craft, and finding an agent, then publisher? I ask this for many different mediums. Paradoxically, does it hold a creative back from the reward of monetary recompense or advance it further by proving a following and laying the work bare to be seen.
In my mind I try to play both sides in a struggle of balance. Hoping that in the end, victory will be mine; even as I genuinely wish success upon a fellow whose work shows promise--he or she that works alongside: telling their tale, honing their art, and weaving their melodies.
Sure, there are those that dwell as socializer and imbiber of the new, interested in consumption, and not there to create. They are the ones we seek beyond words of advice. Those ripe for the picking. We wish to pull them into our following, to cull them into a fan that furthers our work and our love. But how many of them are there really?
(If my words sound uncaring and money-focused, I should clarify that for any artist, the ultimate goal is to achieve just enough fame to gain the money to continue with their work full time. We are the ones that cringe at a 9-5, shudder at paperwork, and fall pray to catatonic states when pressed for data entry, manual labor, and anything we consider menial. Which in our effort to survive artistically: becomes everything else. We don't lament those workers, we only fear those confines for ourselves, because we are bent to a different task in life. It is not more glamorous, it is just different.)
So my real question: Is there a point to twitter and all the others? Or are we just fooling ourselves? Don't get me wrong. I have found much reward within twitter, grown in my knowledge, shared my own, and found friends of value; but I do wonder if it is the road to success, or even a brick in that road.
Or, are we just committing a logical fallacy: (The Writing Excuses podcast has a good episode on this concept. Sorry, I don't recall which one.) thinking that a plethora of social networking will reward us with a book sale, game job, signed to a record label, etc.?
Should the same amount of time just be spent on honing a craft, and finding an agent, then publisher? I ask this for many different mediums. Paradoxically, does it hold a creative back from the reward of monetary recompense or advance it further by proving a following and laying the work bare to be seen.
In my mind I try to play both sides in a struggle of balance. Hoping that in the end, victory will be mine; even as I genuinely wish success upon a fellow whose work shows promise--he or she that works alongside: telling their tale, honing their art, and weaving their melodies.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Book to movie adaptations on the SF Signal Podcast
Interesting podcast and interview on the SF Signal. They talk about the problems with converting a book to movie form and how sometimes you get a good movie, but a bad adaptation. Give it a listen. They also talk about the Wild Wild West movie (boo! hiss!) with Will Smith and I, Robot (Yay!) again with Will Smith. (I see a theme here.) They also talked about Ali, The Fresh Prince of Bel Aire and The Pursuit of Happyness (it's a Will Smith extravaganza! Ok...not really).
Personally, I think the matter of good movie/bad adaptation is half just a matter of the audience accepting the movie as separate from the source material. I'm not perfect. I can still be annoyed when deviations happen, but I've done much better in recent years. I swear!
Personally, I think the matter of good movie/bad adaptation is half just a matter of the audience accepting the movie as separate from the source material. I'm not perfect. I can still be annoyed when deviations happen, but I've done much better in recent years. I swear!
Friday, December 3, 2010
Book Review: Old Man's War, by John Scalzi
(This is a repost of my review that appeared on SF Signal recently - reposted here for posterity)
Paperback: 320 pages
Publisher: Tor Books; 4th edition (December 27, 2005)
ISBN-10: 0765315246
ISBN-13: 978-0765315243
John Perry is an old man. His wife is dead, and he’s joining the military. ??? Certainly an interesting premise already, but it gets better.
Scalzi’s main character is intelligent, with a wry sense of humor and maintains a humble likability as he rises through the ranks. An imperfect past grounds him and make him real, while the passion and love he felt for his wife never waivers. Which is good, because this is a very personal struggle by one man. And if he didn’t sell the book on his own standing, there’d be trouble.
Paperback: 320 pages
Publisher: Tor Books; 4th edition (December 27, 2005)
ISBN-10: 0765315246
ISBN-13: 978-0765315243
John Perry is an old man. His wife is dead, and he’s joining the military. ??? Certainly an interesting premise already, but it gets better.
Scalzi’s main character is intelligent, with a wry sense of humor and maintains a humble likability as he rises through the ranks. An imperfect past grounds him and make him real, while the passion and love he felt for his wife never waivers. Which is good, because this is a very personal struggle by one man. And if he didn’t sell the book on his own standing, there’d be trouble.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
NaNoWriMo: The results...
So, NaNoWriMo is over. Did I win? Nope.
For anybody not aware of NaNoWriMo, it is National Novel Writing Month and happens every November. It is all about drop-kicking your inner editor and writing with a frenzy something that is mostly crap, but still a completed piece. You have to do 50,000 words in one month. Which, for any non-writer out there, is a formidable task to achieve...period, yet alone in one single month.
For anybody not aware of NaNoWriMo, it is National Novel Writing Month and happens every November. It is all about drop-kicking your inner editor and writing with a frenzy something that is mostly crap, but still a completed piece. You have to do 50,000 words in one month. Which, for any non-writer out there, is a formidable task to achieve...period, yet alone in one single month.
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