Book reviews written by Daniel Roy

Reviews

Sort by:

First ‹ Previous | 5 6 7 8 9

Displaying 81-87 of 87 reviews

The Man in the High Castle

by Philip K. Dick
- Rated 5 stars
“There's a saying about genre fiction: a genre is one good book followed by a legion of imitators. If that's true, then The Man in the High Castle is the book of alternate history, followed by imitators of lesser talent.

This is not the most well-known Philip K. Dick novel, but it's one of the most highly-regarded. When Dick came up with the concept of a USA conquered by Japan and Germany during World War Two, it was one of his original, outlandish concepts. This is the real thing, the father of the alternate history genre since then augmented by some talented authors (Kim Stanley Robinson's The Years of Rice and Salt) and some less talented individuals (Harry Turtledove).

All that being said, The Man in the High Castle is a typical K. Dick novel: meaning, you'll love or hate this book as much as you love or hate other works by Dick. It's filled with many common themes dear to the author: confused identity, split personalities, deception, and deep questions on the nature of Reality. One absolutely striking example of this is Dick's concept that in a world where Nazis have won the War, Jews still exist, but have gone deep underground. One of Dick's characters is a favored member of the Nazi party, yet is secretly a Jew who has received plastic surgery and altered his history, all to corrupt the Nazi party from within.

Also fascinating about this novel is how Dick avoids the obvious conclusions from World War Two. The Nazis are depicted as madmen, yes, having carried the Final Solution to Africa where they laid waste to the African continent. However, the people inhabiting this world have lived for 15 years with Nazis in power, and tend to take them as an unavoidable though unpleasant fact of life. Likewise, the Japanese, although occupying America, are depicted as anything but simple bad guys.

The most powerful concept at the heart of The Man in the High Castle, however, is the depiction of occupied America. Having been defeated 15 years earlier, the US is no longer a powerful culture, but an inoffensive yet quaint colony. Japanese businessmen collect artifacts of American history like mere curiosities, obsessed with the past of a culture on the verge of dying. This depiction, coupled with the placid acceptance of it by American characters, is an unexpected yet truly effective idea.

The story is disjointed and tends to wander, and the ending has been termed weak by many readers; but even with these faults, The Man in the High Castle remains a mesmerising work from one of SF's most important authors, and even today it dwarfs the other novels in the genre it has birthed. Highly recommended.”

Daniel Roy wrote this review Saturday, July 26 2008. ( reply | permalink )
Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell: A Novel

by Susanna Clarke
- Rated 5 stars
“Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell is one of those books that I absolutely adore, and yet find myself hard-pressed to recommend without a suitable disclaimer attached. So here is said disclaimer: this novel is slow-moving, tends to wander, and requires a lot of patience and a sizeable investment of time. If you make this investment, however, Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell will reward you in spades.

The novel takes place in the 19th Century, and concerns itself with two English magicians, Gilbert Norrell and Jonathan Strange, who set about to restore English magic. Far from throwing fireballs and duelling dragons, Norrell and Strange are beset by much more mundane challenges: the battle for English magic is one of reputation, so the main obstacles to the main characters' goal are English society and etiquette... not to mention each other.

Though it might not sound breathtaking when summed up like this, the main strength of Susanna Clarke's novel is actually in this formidable restraint she demonstrates throughout the book. Her world, although populated by magicians capable of moving entire cities from one continent to the other, and Faeries as old as Humanity itself, is actually rooted in a deep historical realism you would normally associate with period dramas. Ultimately, this serves Clarke's stronger fantastic elements: since they exist in such a vividly realistic world, they are all the more fantastic for it.

The characters of Norrell and Strange, much like the rest of Clarke's world, are depicted with restraint and humor, and throughout the course of the novel, become vivid, complex, and unforgettable characters. Mr. Norrell, for instance, far from being an exhuberant sorceror, is an insecure middle-aged man who is obsessed with preventing English magic from escaping his grasp. Strange, more excentric (yet still in every way a British gentleman), serves as a delicious counterpoint to Norrell's cavalier attitude, and the friendship and rivalry that grows between them over the years is definitely the highlight of the book.

This is one of these novels that I read slowly, over the course of 2 months, savoring one chapter every night before bedtime. By the time I reached the last chapters, I found myself looking forward to the evening, when I would once again spend time with the characters I loved so much. Most of the novel is slow and the plot tends to wander without apparent purpose, but the ending is deeply satisfying, and I am left hoping another 800-page sequel is in the works.

Some critics have mislabelled Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell as a "Harry Potter for adults." This couldn't be any farther from the truth, and does Clarke's novel a big disservice. While both are concerned with magicians, the comparison ends there. That being said, Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell is definitely a mature, intricate story. Much like, say, an aged whiskey, it is not for inexperienced palates, but those readers who like their novels to be as complex as their drinks will find Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell an unforgettable delight.”

Daniel Roy wrote this review Saturday, July 26 2008. ( reply | permalink )
The Etched City

by K. J. Bishop
- Rated 5 stars
“Books are quite often like a meal. Some books I read I labor through like a meal of broccoli and liver, hoping there's something good for desert. Other books I gulp down avidly, like a starved man given tiramisu. But The Etched City is in a rarer and better breed still: it's the kind of novel you read like a fine wine.

After a few pages of reading K.J. Bishop's first novel, I was already lamenting the fact that each page I read was bringing me closer to the last one. I read the book in small doses, drinking the words from the page, savoring the prose and the images, making sure not to ruin it by going too fast. Yes, it's that darn good.

The Etched City is Ashamoil, an imaginary city poised at the edge of a vast desert called the Copper Country. Like New Crobuzon in China Miéville's Perdido Street Station and The Iron Council, Bishop's Ashamoil is a character of its own, and arguably the main character of the story. However, further comparison between Ashamoil and new Crobuzon are unwarranted. Ashamoil is dreamy, subtly undefined, like an opium vision; etched, as the title wonderfully suggests. It seems to exist in one of Gaiman's 'soft spaces', these areas where realities melt down and coalesce, from The Sandman.

Enter two drastically different protagonists from the Copper Country: Gwynn, a gunslinger who quickly becomes attracted to the city's less savory elements, and Raule, a battlefield doctor who tries to maintain her morality despite the city's incredible erosion of her principles. The two of them came to the city together, trying to rebuild their lives after a failed revolution has branded them as traitors in the Copper Country.

From that point, any semblance of plot takes a backseat to the dreamy quality of the city's life. Bishop takes good care to tone down the fantastic elements of her city, and actually maintains a strong sense of skepticism throughout her story. This is one of the book's most astonishing elements, as fantasy worlds tend to put the reader in a context where they accept strangeness ipso facto. Here, it feels like weirdness and true fantasy are just around the corner, but never fully visible. This incredible restraint is one of the major reasons why I dislike likening The Etched City to Perdido Street Station; whereas Miéville packs his landscape to the gills with breathless wonders and fantastic elements, Bishop exercizes restraint to such a level that the bits of fantasy that make it through are all the more potent.

The core of the book is such an exercize: many times, it seems like something incredible is about to happen, and the fantastic elements are absolutely tantalizing. But rather than plunge in them, Bishop pulls them back from the stage, teasing the reader, then bringing forward the next mind-boggling morsel. Some of these morsels, such as the birth of the crocodile god's infant, or the story of the men desiring the red hair, left me breathless, and actually forced me to put the book down and savor the current chapter before I could pick it up again. To say this book haunted me is an understatement; it haunts me still.

If it sounds like I absolutely adore this book, well, it's because I do. It's not for everyone, though. As a matter of fact, it shares more with so-called 'high literature' than it does with traditional fantasy, especially in terms of plot construction and pacing. Some readers, used to more action-focused plots, might grow frustrated with the fact the story floats forward, instead of racing ahead to the ending. Yes, there is a plot hidden in there, but to tell you the truth, when it comes around, I found myself wishing it didn't and simply left the protagonists continue living their daily lives in relative peace.

If these warnings don't deter you, then by all means do yourself the favor of picking up this one. Its depth, restraint and imagination make it one of the modern masterpieces of a crowded genre, and demonstrate once more than fantasy can be for grown-ups, too.”

Daniel Roy wrote this review Saturday, July 26 2008. ( reply | permalink )
Manifold: Time

by Stephen Baxter
- Rated 3 stars
“Stephen Baxter has been crowned by many as the modern king of hard science fiction. It's no coincidence that he has collaborated with Arthur C. Clarke on some novels, because his works share a lot of qualities and flaws. That is not to say his novels are not original and inventive: even Clarke himself never dreamed of the immensity of scope that Baxter weaved into Manifold: Time.

Manifold: Time opens up innocently enough, with an ex-astronaut-turned-CEO trying to launch a venture into space to mine near-Earth asteroids. Fairly quickly, however, the novel throws a curveball, and the joyride begins: soon enough, you'll be reading all about sending radio signals back in time, statistical predictions of the end of Humanity, the heat death of the Universe, and phase change of the void.

If this all sounds like a hard read, well, it is. I would not recommend Manifold: Time to anyone who is not deeply into SF, and who doesn't have at least a layman's interest in cosmology and astrophysics. If you are capable of overlooking the sometimes dry prose of, say, Azimov and Clarke, and still get a kick out of their awesome speculative concepts, then you will be more than rewarded by Baxter's novel. As a matter of fact, Manifold: Time is sure to delight and surprise even the most jaded hard SF reader.

There's one sequence in particular in Manifold: Time that will just blow your mind. I won't spoil it here, other than to say it involves visions of the far future. And when I say far, I mean far: to my knowledge, I've never seen a SF novel that dared go that far into the future. The result is a vertigo-inducing thrill ride, and on the strength of it alone, I heartily recommend this novel.

I already mentioned the thin characters and average writing, but since they're not the focus of this book, I hesitate to criticize them too much. I'm a huge fan of well-crafted stories and characters, so it did annoy me throughout the book. Characters are vaguely defined, and you can tell the book is written by an engineer. In Baxter books where the core concepts are so-so (Exultant), it's enough to make me put the book down. In his stronger works (Coalescent), it's a minor obstacle. In Manifold: Time, possibly his strongest book to date, it's a minor irritant you'll most likely learn to overlook by page 50.

It's worth noting that Manifold: Time is the first of a trilogy, composed of Manifold: Space and Manifold: Origin. These two sequels do not take place after Manifold: Time, but rather in separate universes. As such, the first novel stands up perfectly well on its own. The next two books are said to be of lesser quality, but this shouldn't prevent you from picking up Manifold: Time, and enjoy its mental joyride of truly cosmic proportions.”

Daniel Roy wrote this review Saturday, July 26 2008. ( reply | permalink )
Coalescent

by Stephen Baxter
- Rated 3 stars
“Let's be upfront about it: Coalescent is not a book for everyone. It alienates Baxter fans who are used to distant-future high-concept space opera, and it alienates casual fans who might pick this up as a historical novel. Essentially, it pleases neither crowd. So, is it worth reading? Absolutely, but you better be patient.

The story starts at the Fall of the Roman Empire, and follows a young British Roman woman named Regina as her world falls apart around her. The majority of the novel focuses on Regina's trials, as she escapes war-torn Britain and ends up in Rome by way of Avalon. (More on this in a moment.) In parallel with this, we follow the actions of a mild-mannered British man, a descendant of Regina, who discovers he has a long-lost twin sister secluded in an Italian religious order.

If this doesn't sound like exciting SF, well, that's because it ain't. The story of Regina is somewhat interesting, but a lot of time is spent by Baxter showing us how much historical research he put into making this a geniune historical novel. There's a somewhat interesting segue to the story as Regina joins King Arthur's court, becoming the historical inspiration for Morgan by virtue of being Merlin's rival; however, it serves no real purpose except being clever, and actually detracts from the goals of Regina's story arc, which is to provide a historically believeable context to the founding of the Order.

The modern storyline, following a descendant of Regina as he comes to grip with the existence of a long-lost twin, also unfortunately feels like filler. This is mostly because the main character, mild-mannered, middle-aged George Poole, is not that interesting at all. Fortunately, his eccentric and paranoid geek friend, Peter McLachlan, provides for tasty SF ideas such as galactic-scale weapons and Dark Matter starships. These moments are few and far between, but they provide a hint as to the greatness that is to come.

If you manage to get through the dreary start, things suddenly kick into overdrive. Regina gets to Rome, and founds a secretive Order that still exists centuries later. George Poole, in modern times, discovers the ramifications of the Order as he finds his lost sister. That's when things get really crazy, and we finally understand where Baxter was going all along.

I'm not gonna spoil it for you; I had the pleasure of reading this novel without forewarning, and I suggest you do the same. Suffice to say that the point of Coalescent is to provide a deep reflection on the nature of human society, and in this aspect, it more than delivers. If this kind of payoff seems appealing to you regardless of the obstacles I described previously, then go ahead and pick up Coalescent.

In the end, Coalescent returns to solid SF grounds, and the perspective is dizzying and highly satisfying. As a book of Big Ideas, Coalescent works perfectly, and is well worth the time investment. It's a book that rewards patience, in spades.

Coalescent is technically the first of a trilogy called Destiny's Children. The novel was strong enough to make me pick up the sequel, Exultant, but I must warn you that the sequel is nowhere near the level of Coalescent. Yes, passing references are made to it in the sequel novel, but they amount to a poor novel paying hommage to a much superior one, and you won't miss anything by skipping Exultant. Do yourself a favor and consider Coalescent a stand-alone story.”

Daniel Roy wrote this review Saturday, July 26 2008. ( reply | permalink )
The Player of Games

by Iain Banks
- Rated 5 stars
“Despite being a huge SF fan, I had somehow avoided reading Iain M. Banks for many years. I finally picked up Consider Phlebas, and thought it was a good enough space opera romp that I wanted to check further Culture novels. The Player of Games was my second Banks novel, and what an absolute delight it was.

The Player of Games is part of Banks' Culture novel series. The Culture is an interstellar society where humans and AI coexist, and it is both amazingly advanced technologically, but also features a lot of social concepts that are extreme advances of our own society. The good thing about the Culture novels, though, is that they are rarely interconnected. They take place at varying points in the long history of the Culture, so they tend to have little causal connections. This means you can easily pick up The Player of Games and not worry about previous entries in the cycle.

The main character of the novel is Jernau Gurgeh, one of the best players of strategy games in the entire Culture. He is not exactly a sympathetic protagonist. At the opening of the novel, he lives a jaded life, and is pretty complacent about his superior skills. Still, what he lacks in immediate likeability, he makes up for being a fascinating character, and a very belieable as a grandmaster game player.

The first part of the novel sees Jernau deal with his every day life in the Culture. Banks has created something quite unique with the Culture, and The Player of Games is an excellent starting point to discover his world. Granted, the Culture is dramatically more advanced than our world in many social aspects, but Banks deftly avoids depicting it as a simple utopia. There are problems remaining in his society, despite the fact that everyone is pretty much free to do what they want, and there is no scarcity. As such, the first part of The Player of Games is an intriguing romp through a distant future where real characters - both AI and human - carry on with their lives and deal with difficulties.

But fascinating as this may be, there are much greater things in store for Jernau. Through a series of unfortunate events, he gets recruited by the Culture's first contact division to travel to the Empire of Azad, where the ruling body of the empire is determined by a complex game of strategy. This game is also called Azad, reflecting the close ties that exist between the Empire's fate and the game itself.

The Empire of Azad might be an interstellar empire, but their rules are customs are much closer to modern-day Earth in spirit. There is injustice here, and racism, and poverty, and cruelty. Jernau experiences them all, and his point of view from the post-scarcity mindset of the Culture is the novel's real shining moment. The Empire of Azad is both perfectly alien and uncomfortably close to our world, which makes Jernau's truly alien point of view all the more fascinating.

The game of Azad itself is another crowning achievement of this novel. It's presented as a thoroughly complex game, including mutating pieces moving on multiple boards at once; yet Banks manages to clearly explain the game as Jernau and his opponents play it. The multiple contests he goes through, and their impact on Azad society, makes The Player of Games a novel you simply cannot put down until you read it through.

Add to this a satisfying ending, and The Player of Games stands tall above pretty much the entire space opera genre. It's a complex novel, with an equally complex main character, and the clash of cultures it presents through the context of an immense strategy game is absolutely orginal, and very memorable.”

Daniel Roy wrote this review Saturday, July 26 2008. ( reply | permalink )
Ender's Game

by Orson Scott Card
- Rated 4 stars
“Ender's Game, for some obscure reason, is one of those SF classics that I had somehow managed to avoid so far in my life. Maybe its superficial resemblance to The Last Starfighter made me perceive it as a dated SF classic; and now that I've read it, I realize my impressions couldn't have been more wrong. As a matter of fact, as I read the story of Ender Wiggins for the first time, I felt privileged to be reading what was obviously a pillar of SF literature.

Ender Wiggins is a 6 year-old boy who has a towering destiny ahead of him: he is a boy genius who must be put through the hardships of Battle School in the hopes that he can turn into the next Alexander, and defeat an alien race known as the Buggers. Ender's greatest strength is also the weakness that must be weaned out of him: he is a caring, empathic boy who doesn't take to murder lightly. But kill he must if he is to save all of Humanity.

Although the protagonist of Ender's Game is a child, there is nothing childish about what he lives through. Ender must contend not only with older boys plotting against him, and a hostile school management bent on breeding a military commander out of him; he must also deal with his own conscience as he becomes the killer he must be to save his kind. The moral dillemmas faced by Ender are definitely adult: they speak of duty and the necessities of survival, and the sacrifices we make as a species to defend our right to exist.

Ender and his fellow boy-soldiers are fascinating characters, and they sometimes reach that most difficult of balance, by being at once child-like and supernaturally intelligent. There is a level of intelligence in some exchanges (particularly those involving Ender's sister Valentine) that matches those in Frank Herbert's Dune in terms of multilayered complexity. On the whole, however, the children of Ender's Game behave more like ruthless military officers, and less like children, than I would have expected. The tale of Peter and Valentine, for instance, stretched my belief in these child geniuses.

Overall, Ender's Game is a satisfying, gripping SF tale, and one that obviously influenced the genre in a major way. It is amazing in its relentlessness, and one can't help but feel pity and sympathy for Ender as he is put through the trials that will shape him into a military commander for the ages. I'm glad I finally got around to reading it, and I look forward to Speaker for the Dead, Ender's Game's sequel, and the spinoff, Ender's Shadow.”

Daniel Roy wrote this review Saturday, July 26 2008. ( reply | permalink )