It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a reader in possession of an Isaac Asimov novel must be in want of believable characters. This is a flaw which most people have noticed, of course--I am not making a unique observation. But it was what really struck me as I read this book, and it nearly prevented me finishing it.
More than most writers, Asimov could be said to write fiction of ideas--his prose is barely serviceable, his characters are laughable, and he wastes no time on setting or description. His books are populated with talking heads who alternately lecture one another and argue about what would be the most logical course of action.
Second Foundation is the third of Asimov's Foundation novels, following Foundation and Foundation and Empire. I have read them spaced out over twelve years, so of course my memories of the other two novels may not be completely accurate. However, the basic premise is this: There was a great galactic empire which was in the process of decline. A genius named Hari Seldon invented the field of psychohistory, in which he was able to predict the future, in general terms, based on trends he had observed in history. He predicted that when the empire finally fell the galaxy would be plunged into a long Dark Age, but that the process could be considerably abbreviated, and civilization brought back sooner, if certain actions were taken. Therefore he set up the Foundation on the planet Terminus to follow his plan and save the galaxy. The first book concerns the establishment of the Foundation, and shows how Seldon's plan is workable.
Foundation and Empire details how, as time passes, the Foundation strays a bit farther from the plan but tries to keep to it, and then a monkey wrench is thrown into the works by a telepathic mutant called The Mule. The Mule was apparently skinny and funny looking, and therefore everyone he ever met treated him with contempt, which made him a bitter monomaniac determined to rule the galaxy. As silly as it sounds, that's as deep as Asimov's characterization ever gets. Using his extraordinary mental abilities, he carves himself a nice chunk of space and makes his own little empire. However, he hears rumors of a second Foundation, one that exists in secret and is staffed by psychohistorians. They possess a more detailed copy of The Plan, and it is their job to work behind the scenes to nudge things back into line and keep The Plan running smoothly. The Mule becomes obsessed with finding the Second Foundation, and his search occupies the latter half of Foundation and Empire.
Second Foundation contains two stories: the first half is about how the Second Foundation outsmarts the Mule, and the second is about the original Foundation's search for the Second Foundation, and how the are also outsmarted. There is a big bombshell at the end as the location of the Second Foundation is explained. Or rather, it might have been a bombshell if I hadn't already known the answer. I no longer recall if the answer was provided at the end of Foundation and Empire or if I figured it out myself, but anyway I already knew the answer.
What I cannot understand is some of the characters' motivations. The Foundation apparently was obsessed with defeating The Mule simply because he messed up their plans, but frankly I was rooting for him. He seemed a lot less obnoxious to me than the Foundation. And secondly, it is unclear to me why, in the second half of this work, the Foundation decided that the Second Foundation were their deadly enemy, and must be hunted down and eradicated. It just didn't make any sense, and I don't understand why such rigidly logical creatures as Asimov's characters should suddenly become so irrational, save that it served the story he wanted to tell. Overall, it was an obnoxious book filled with obnoxious stand-ins for characters.
Second Foundation is copyrighted 1953. It strikes me as a fundamentally immature work, and I am unsure if this is because it *is*, or because it's full of silly cliches that were not yet cliche in 1953. The characters who lecture instead of speaking, for instance. Or the characters with normal names misspelled to make them more exotic--Jole, Hari, Homir. The scenes of psionic duels are absolutely painful to read, they're so awkward: "Channis felt the emotional potential that pressed upon his mind rise in intensity as the Mule rose from his chair and approached. He fought back furiously, but something crept relentlessly on within him, battering and bending his mind back--and back." Psionics were pretty common in the 1950s, because John W. Campbell liked them, and he was the one buying a lot of the stories. I like psionics, too, which may be why I get so bitter when they're badly done. This was badly done.
This is part of the SF canon which should be read by knowledgeable fans, but it's certainly not good.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Friday, December 29, 2006
Bath House in December
I am experimenting with digital images at the moment, so bear with me. iPhoto is proving recalcitrant, so I'm having to figure out workarounds to get it to do what I want. Oddly enough, I find it less intuitive than Microsoft Picture Manager.
Monday, December 25, 2006
Bloom by Wil McCarthy
I have been frustrated recently that there doesn't seem to be much out there to read, so I am deliberately trying some new things. I read Bloom in an attempt to try new authors. I also attempted an discarded Kathleen Goonan's Crescent City Rhapsody.
Bloom is set about 100 years into the future. Earth, and the space around it, have been overtaken by mycora, a rapidly self-replicating technology that turns everything it touches into goo. Think nanotechnology gone horribly wrong. As the mycora spread across the planet, people fled into space, first to the moon, and then beyond. A significant portion of humanity did not escape. Those that did, separated into two separate civilizations, with different attitudes about the mycora. The people from equatorial latitudes mostly settled in the asteroid belt, while those of more northern latitudes burrowed underground on the moons of Jupiter. There are still occasional infections, or blooms, as the mycora appears and spreads until they can stop it. They are aware that the mycora will probably continue to spread in their direction, and that it will probably be necessary to flee even farther away some day in the future.
The scientists of the Immunity (that is, the settlements on the Jovian moons) decide that they need more information, and pull together a mission to send a ship back to Earth to investigate the current state of their former planet, and to launch some probes to monitor what's going on there. There is a crew of seven: the captain, the security man, four scientists and engineers, and our protagonist, who is an independent film maker. He has been sent along to observe, record, and present the information to the general public.
Having the story narrated by the publicist reminds me a lot of Peter Watts's Blindsight, which I reviewed recently (though McCarthy's book is the older of the two). Our filmmaker, of course, is a lot more ignorant about the science than the rest of the crew, so they have to explain a lot to him. He is then handed an computer simulation model to play with, which he does at great and tedious length, apparently to explain the idea to the reader.
McCarthy is an engineer, and I think it shows in his writing. I think I would have to characterize Bloom as a work of hard science fiction, because so much time is spent explaining all the details and concepts, and so little time is spent on character and story. Naturally, the two characters who hated each other at first sight end up in the sack together. Naturally, the person who comes up with the answers at the end is our narrator, the one who least understands the topic. Here is an example of the dialogue at its least entertaining:
"The quantum spatial distortion is normally induced and focused within a shielded reactor, where its effects can be controlled to within a few Planck radii. How else to turnnel out only the desired nucleons, yes? But if we invert the distortion function along the B-axis, essentially turning it inside out in three-dimensional space, the same ladderdown tunneling can be induced stochastically in a much larger spherical shell, centered about the inductor. Shielding irrelevant, because it's inside the affected region, you see? Considered too hazardsous for use in bloom cauterization, the phenomenon has no industrial applications. Look it up under Things Not to Try."
This book reminded me a bit of Clarke's Childhood's End. Like Clarke, it raises questions about the end, or evolution, of humanity. Like Clarke, the ideas are a lot better than the actual writing. Like Clarke, the end was pretty interesting but it was a real slog to get to it. I didn't love this book, nor did I hate it. The ideas were interesting enough to keep me reading, and I'm glad I read it. I'm not sure I would recommend it to anyone, though.
Bloom is set about 100 years into the future. Earth, and the space around it, have been overtaken by mycora, a rapidly self-replicating technology that turns everything it touches into goo. Think nanotechnology gone horribly wrong. As the mycora spread across the planet, people fled into space, first to the moon, and then beyond. A significant portion of humanity did not escape. Those that did, separated into two separate civilizations, with different attitudes about the mycora. The people from equatorial latitudes mostly settled in the asteroid belt, while those of more northern latitudes burrowed underground on the moons of Jupiter. There are still occasional infections, or blooms, as the mycora appears and spreads until they can stop it. They are aware that the mycora will probably continue to spread in their direction, and that it will probably be necessary to flee even farther away some day in the future.
The scientists of the Immunity (that is, the settlements on the Jovian moons) decide that they need more information, and pull together a mission to send a ship back to Earth to investigate the current state of their former planet, and to launch some probes to monitor what's going on there. There is a crew of seven: the captain, the security man, four scientists and engineers, and our protagonist, who is an independent film maker. He has been sent along to observe, record, and present the information to the general public.
Having the story narrated by the publicist reminds me a lot of Peter Watts's Blindsight, which I reviewed recently (though McCarthy's book is the older of the two). Our filmmaker, of course, is a lot more ignorant about the science than the rest of the crew, so they have to explain a lot to him. He is then handed an computer simulation model to play with, which he does at great and tedious length, apparently to explain the idea to the reader.
McCarthy is an engineer, and I think it shows in his writing. I think I would have to characterize Bloom as a work of hard science fiction, because so much time is spent explaining all the details and concepts, and so little time is spent on character and story. Naturally, the two characters who hated each other at first sight end up in the sack together. Naturally, the person who comes up with the answers at the end is our narrator, the one who least understands the topic. Here is an example of the dialogue at its least entertaining:
"The quantum spatial distortion is normally induced and focused within a shielded reactor, where its effects can be controlled to within a few Planck radii. How else to turnnel out only the desired nucleons, yes? But if we invert the distortion function along the B-axis, essentially turning it inside out in three-dimensional space, the same ladderdown tunneling can be induced stochastically in a much larger spherical shell, centered about the inductor. Shielding irrelevant, because it's inside the affected region, you see? Considered too hazardsous for use in bloom cauterization, the phenomenon has no industrial applications. Look it up under Things Not to Try."
This book reminded me a bit of Clarke's Childhood's End. Like Clarke, it raises questions about the end, or evolution, of humanity. Like Clarke, the ideas are a lot better than the actual writing. Like Clarke, the end was pretty interesting but it was a real slog to get to it. I didn't love this book, nor did I hate it. The ideas were interesting enough to keep me reading, and I'm glad I read it. I'm not sure I would recommend it to anyone, though.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain
The subtitle of this book is Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly. Bourdain is a chef, the head of a professional kitchen. In this work he talks about his career restaurant-hopping through New York, and about working in the restaurant industry.
Bourdain is now a food celebrity, if not exactly a celebrity chef. He admits that he is probably a better food critic than chef. This is the book that propelled him to fame. He has since gone on to have two TV shows (one on Food Network and one on the Travel Channel) and is often called on to be a sarcastic food celebrity. For instance, he was recently a guest judge on Bravo's Top Chef.
The most entertaining chapter is "From Our Kitchen to Your Table," which tells you how to be a more knowledgeable diner. He explains why you shouldn't order fish on Sunday or Monday; why you should stay away from specials, especially if they contain fish; why you get the best meals on weeknights, not weekends; and why you should always avoid Sunday buffets. Unfortunately, tomorrow I will be going to a Sunday brunch buffet. I quake with dread. A quote:
"Brunch menus are an open invitation to the cost-conscious chef, a dumping ground for the odd bits left over from Friday and Saturday nights or for the scraps generated in the normal course of business. ... And how long has that Canadian bacon been ageing in the walk-in, anyway? Remember, brunch is only served once a week -- on the weekends. Buzzword here, 'Brunch Menu'. Translation? 'Old, nasty odds and ends, and 12 dollars for two eggs with a free Bloody Mary.' One other point about brunch. Cooks hate brunch. A wise chef will deploy his best line cooks on Friday and Saturday nights, he'll be reluctant to schedule those same cooks early Sunday morning, especially since they probably went out after work Saturday and got hammered until the wee hours. Worse, brunch is demoralizing to the serious line cook. Nothing makes an aspiring Escoffier feel more like an army commissary cook, or Mel from Mel's Diner, than having to slop out eggs over easy with bacon and eggs Benedict for the Sunday brunch crowd. Brunch is punishment block for the B-Team cooks, or where the farm team of recent dishwashers learn their chops. Most chefs are off on Sundays, too, so supervision is at a minimum. Consider that before ordering the seafood frittata."
Most of the rest of the book describes his experiences at various restaurants, his drug habit, his drinking habit, and the psychos and addicts he's been working with since the seventies. Parts of it are entertaining, while others drag. It is certainly one of the more unappetizing books I've ever read. It also makes the job of a professional cook sound unappetizing--long hours, hard work, high stress, heat and sharp things. Bourdain's account is highly entertaining and extremely crude. Overall I enjoyed the book, but got a bit bogged down toward the end and almost didn't finish it. Recommended, with a few reservations.
Bourdain is now a food celebrity, if not exactly a celebrity chef. He admits that he is probably a better food critic than chef. This is the book that propelled him to fame. He has since gone on to have two TV shows (one on Food Network and one on the Travel Channel) and is often called on to be a sarcastic food celebrity. For instance, he was recently a guest judge on Bravo's Top Chef.
The most entertaining chapter is "From Our Kitchen to Your Table," which tells you how to be a more knowledgeable diner. He explains why you shouldn't order fish on Sunday or Monday; why you should stay away from specials, especially if they contain fish; why you get the best meals on weeknights, not weekends; and why you should always avoid Sunday buffets. Unfortunately, tomorrow I will be going to a Sunday brunch buffet. I quake with dread. A quote:
"Brunch menus are an open invitation to the cost-conscious chef, a dumping ground for the odd bits left over from Friday and Saturday nights or for the scraps generated in the normal course of business. ... And how long has that Canadian bacon been ageing in the walk-in, anyway? Remember, brunch is only served once a week -- on the weekends. Buzzword here, 'Brunch Menu'. Translation? 'Old, nasty odds and ends, and 12 dollars for two eggs with a free Bloody Mary.' One other point about brunch. Cooks hate brunch. A wise chef will deploy his best line cooks on Friday and Saturday nights, he'll be reluctant to schedule those same cooks early Sunday morning, especially since they probably went out after work Saturday and got hammered until the wee hours. Worse, brunch is demoralizing to the serious line cook. Nothing makes an aspiring Escoffier feel more like an army commissary cook, or Mel from Mel's Diner, than having to slop out eggs over easy with bacon and eggs Benedict for the Sunday brunch crowd. Brunch is punishment block for the B-Team cooks, or where the farm team of recent dishwashers learn their chops. Most chefs are off on Sundays, too, so supervision is at a minimum. Consider that before ordering the seafood frittata."
Most of the rest of the book describes his experiences at various restaurants, his drug habit, his drinking habit, and the psychos and addicts he's been working with since the seventies. Parts of it are entertaining, while others drag. It is certainly one of the more unappetizing books I've ever read. It also makes the job of a professional cook sound unappetizing--long hours, hard work, high stress, heat and sharp things. Bourdain's account is highly entertaining and extremely crude. Overall I enjoyed the book, but got a bit bogged down toward the end and almost didn't finish it. Recommended, with a few reservations.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Ringworld by Larry Niven
Ringworld won the Hugo and Nebula awards in 1971. It is a science fiction story of the Big Dumb Object variety. It takes place far in the future, when Louis Wu has reached the age of 200 and is getting bored with life. He is recruited by a puppetmaster (alien race, kind of cute, extremely cautious) to go on a top-secret mission. Also recruited are Speaker to Animals, a kzin (giant, predatory, dangerous alien race) and another human, Teela Brown. The four of them set off to learn more about a strange artifact that the puppetmasters have discovered but are too cowardly to investigate themselves.
The Ringworld is enormous, built as a giant strip rotating around a star. Its land mass is many times that of all the inhabited worlds, and is obviously not a natural artifact. So, who built it, and why? And is it inhabited? These are some of the questions they are sent to find. The plot of the book centers around exploring the world and figuring out what it is. Along the way our cast has adventures, and it's really a pretty entertaining story. I can certainly see why it won the Hugo.
A couple of things struck me, though, as I was reading. First of all, it reminds me a lot of Terry Pratchett's novel Strata. Ringworld is the older of the two books, so Pratchett was obviously inspired by Niven. The two books are really quite different in tone, but they begin similarly. Secondly, though the Ring itself was very, very cool, the basic premise that is driving the plot is extremely stupid.
Spoilers ahead:
It seems that the puppetmasters have been performing a breeding experiment with the human race, of which Teela Brown is the result. She may possibly be the luckiest person on Earth. (She is also really, really annoying) Near the end, Louis realizes that the entire mission, and everything that happened along the way, were driven by Teela's luck. She was selected to go, and they traveled to a distant star, and very unluckily crash landed, and all sorts of things went wrong, just so that Teela could meet a hunky guy and live happily ever after with him. Have I mentioned that I think this is stupid? Let me reiterate: really, really stupid.
Another annoying thing: they meet a woman who had been on a starship crew, and when Louis heard that she was one of only 3 women in a crew of 36, he concluded that she had obviously been there as a whore, not a functioning crew member. Thirty-five years later, when women are commanding space shuttle missions, this assumption seems a bit ... dated, perhaps? This, however, is nowhere near as annoying as Teela's personality, or some of the interpersonal dynamics of the four crew members.
Fortunately, the Ringworld is really, really cool. Also, there are some funny sections, which I appreciated. I wouldn't classify this as a must-read classic, but it's certainly in the next tier down. It was a worthwhile read, and quite entertaining.
The Ringworld is enormous, built as a giant strip rotating around a star. Its land mass is many times that of all the inhabited worlds, and is obviously not a natural artifact. So, who built it, and why? And is it inhabited? These are some of the questions they are sent to find. The plot of the book centers around exploring the world and figuring out what it is. Along the way our cast has adventures, and it's really a pretty entertaining story. I can certainly see why it won the Hugo.
A couple of things struck me, though, as I was reading. First of all, it reminds me a lot of Terry Pratchett's novel Strata. Ringworld is the older of the two books, so Pratchett was obviously inspired by Niven. The two books are really quite different in tone, but they begin similarly. Secondly, though the Ring itself was very, very cool, the basic premise that is driving the plot is extremely stupid.
Spoilers ahead:
It seems that the puppetmasters have been performing a breeding experiment with the human race, of which Teela Brown is the result. She may possibly be the luckiest person on Earth. (She is also really, really annoying) Near the end, Louis realizes that the entire mission, and everything that happened along the way, were driven by Teela's luck. She was selected to go, and they traveled to a distant star, and very unluckily crash landed, and all sorts of things went wrong, just so that Teela could meet a hunky guy and live happily ever after with him. Have I mentioned that I think this is stupid? Let me reiterate: really, really stupid.
Another annoying thing: they meet a woman who had been on a starship crew, and when Louis heard that she was one of only 3 women in a crew of 36, he concluded that she had obviously been there as a whore, not a functioning crew member. Thirty-five years later, when women are commanding space shuttle missions, this assumption seems a bit ... dated, perhaps? This, however, is nowhere near as annoying as Teela's personality, or some of the interpersonal dynamics of the four crew members.
Fortunately, the Ringworld is really, really cool. Also, there are some funny sections, which I appreciated. I wouldn't classify this as a must-read classic, but it's certainly in the next tier down. It was a worthwhile read, and quite entertaining.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
The Hope Valley Hubcap King by Sean Murphy
I found The Hope Valley Hubcap King in the science fiction section of the library, but I don't think it belongs there. Admittedly, it's set in the future. But otherwise it is not the least bit science fictional. After his father commits suicide the protagonist, Bibi Brown, sets off on a journey to find his uncle, his only living male relative. Bibi is seeking an understanding of himself and the universe, and he hopes his uncle can enlighten him. He spends twelve years wandering the country, encountering strange people and having unlikely adventures. He eventually settles down with the woman of his dreams, and then he leaves her when he gets a lead on where his uncle might be. It is all considerably more boring than that description sounds.
The book reminds me a lot of Candide, which also features a naive young man who is seeking a philosophical framework to understand the world. Candide, however, is funny, and short, and good. The Hope Valley Hubcap King possesses none of those qualities. The narrative style is so distant from the story that you barely feel or care about anything that happens to Bibi. Likewise, it's hard to care about someone who is as much of a fool as he is.
And this is why I think this is not a science fiction novel: it's a story about a young man who is trying to find happiness and wanders around having philosophical discussions with strangers. This sort of navel-gazing usually only occurs in mainstream fiction, whose readers seem to have much lower expectations of plot than most genre readers. The author is a Zen practitioner, and he appears to be espousing that philosophy in trying to bring Bibi to the happiness he seeks. When he finally reaches spiritual fullness, it involves no longer caring about much of anything.
Overall, a very dissatisfying waste of time. If you find it on the science fiction shelves, beware: this is pointless literary crap in shiny clothing.
The book reminds me a lot of Candide, which also features a naive young man who is seeking a philosophical framework to understand the world. Candide, however, is funny, and short, and good. The Hope Valley Hubcap King possesses none of those qualities. The narrative style is so distant from the story that you barely feel or care about anything that happens to Bibi. Likewise, it's hard to care about someone who is as much of a fool as he is.
And this is why I think this is not a science fiction novel: it's a story about a young man who is trying to find happiness and wanders around having philosophical discussions with strangers. This sort of navel-gazing usually only occurs in mainstream fiction, whose readers seem to have much lower expectations of plot than most genre readers. The author is a Zen practitioner, and he appears to be espousing that philosophy in trying to bring Bibi to the happiness he seeks. When he finally reaches spiritual fullness, it involves no longer caring about much of anything.
Overall, a very dissatisfying waste of time. If you find it on the science fiction shelves, beware: this is pointless literary crap in shiny clothing.
Friday, December 8, 2006
Another reason to dislike bamboo knitting needles
Besides the fact they splinter and seem to be more expensive than metal...
Cats can chew on bamboo knitting needles. And leave little sharp dents in them that catch on the yarn as you try to knit. These needles were two weeks old and cost more than I thought they should have, so I really don't want to go buy new ones. Therefore, I tried sandpaper. My needles still catch in the yarn a bit, and now the rounded ends are pointy and sharp.
This wouldn't have happened with metal needles. I wish my local yarn shop carried metal needles. I'm either going to have to drive into the city for replacement needles or order some online. Pfui. Stupid overpriced crap.
Cats can chew on bamboo knitting needles. And leave little sharp dents in them that catch on the yarn as you try to knit. These needles were two weeks old and cost more than I thought they should have, so I really don't want to go buy new ones. Therefore, I tried sandpaper. My needles still catch in the yarn a bit, and now the rounded ends are pointy and sharp.
This wouldn't have happened with metal needles. I wish my local yarn shop carried metal needles. I'm either going to have to drive into the city for replacement needles or order some online. Pfui. Stupid overpriced crap.
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