[Book Reviews] ‘Childhood’s End’ by Arthur C. Clarke

"Childhood's End" by Arthur C. Clarke

Humans often think of themselves as the acme of evolution. But what if we’re simply a transitional state – an incubator, even – for a much greater consciousness that will appear in future generations? And what if everything we thought we knew about deities, angels, demons, and spirits, was simply a vision into what the future held for mankind?

This is the premise of Childhood’s End, a wonderful classic science fiction novel by Arthur C. Clarke. The beginning of the book will seem familiar, since the strong visual Clarke envisions has been used elsewhere in sci-fi since. Alien spaceships appear in the sky, and hover over all the major cities. But the aliens don’t reveal themselves immediately, and they communicate with humans through a series of psychic messages. These aliens judge humanity harshly, forcing the world to disarm its weapons and to stop its violent ways. They take a particular vengeance on those who harm animals in a cruel way. The aliens guide humanity to become better, and as the generations move forward, the aliens gradually reveal themselves, and it’s clear why they have been so hesitant to show themselves. (I won’t spoil the surprise, but let’s just say they have to wait for Western civilization to outgrow some of its medieval mythology.)

At first, it appears that the aliens are on Earth simply to make it a better place, and humanity enters a golden age of peace and prosperity. But as children begin exhibiting strange behavior, it’s clear that something more is going on. These aliens aren’t ambassadors, but midwives… waiting to take humanity from its fetal state into the birth of something new, and something wonderful… but something downright terrifying as well. Humanity’s era is over, and in one generation, everything on Earth will change forever.

And that’s where Childhood’s End is different from other science fiction stories like Close Encounters of the Third Kind, V, Independence Day or The Day The Earth Stood Still, where mysterious aliens make first contact with humans –  these aliens are not on Earth to warn humanity about its impending doom, or to feed upon the humans or destroy the planet. No, they’re motivated by a higher purpose, with a higher understanding of events that really is beyond anything humans will be able to understand. What winds up happening in the end is so intense, so awe-inspiring, that it’s like watching an act of God occurring. And since the change into the next state occurs in human children, there is no way that human parents could have been informed without getting massively over-protective.

One of the great things about science fiction is its ability to question what it really means to be human, and, in fact, whether being human is such a great thing to begin with. Other genres of literature would simply accept the idea that humanity is a good thing, and stop asking questions then and there. But in science fiction, the idea that humanity is not the greatest point of evolution can be put forth. In Clarke’s view, humans are simply the primitive ancestors of the wonderful, powerful, terrible things to come. The universe is waiting not for humanity to arise and voyage to the stars, but some other entity that began as human, but which became something different entirely.

Childhood’s End is a great read. It’s short, it’s interesting, and it’s full of twists and turns. There are a few places where it’s a little dated (it’s pretty clear that it was written in the 50s due to the gender attitudes and ideas that show up), but the themes are fairly universal. There is a sense of wonder and amazement in this novel… but also a profound sense of melancholy. I’d recommend it to anyone who has even a passing interest in science fiction, because it’s very readable, with interesting characters and clear explanations of what’s going on… but at the same time, it represents the biggest of big ideas that science fiction can put forth.

GENRE: Hard Science Fiction
STORY: ****
CHARACTERS: ****
CONCEPT: ****
RE-READABILITY: ****

[Book Reviews] ‘The Forever War’ by Joe Haldeman

"The Forever War" by Joe Haldeman

What would happen if we really waged interstellar war? One thing Star Wars and Star Trek don’t take into account are the effects of relativity when people travel fast enough that they’re approaching the speed of light. What might seem like weeks to the travellers could seem like years to the people back on Earth. And that’s exactly what happens in Joe Haldeman’s The Forever War, a book where the main character, William Mandella, is enlisted to fight in a war against an alien menace known as the Taurans (named after the constellation they’re believed to be from). As Mandella goes off on campaigns, he returns to find Earth increasingly more alien as the years go by, until finally, it is a place so different that he can no longer even call it home.

Haldeman says in the prologue that he intended this book to be an analogy of the Vietnam War, but that he was surprised that readers who weren’t familiar with Vietnam could still read it and understand it. That’s a very interesting point, because had Haldeman not brough up Vietnam, I would have never made the connection. For one thing, he does such a good job of distancing himself from the politics of the 1970s (when this book was written) and describing a military that is evolved from what we have today.  Only the best and the brightest are conscripted into the military, and training conditions are harsh — many die before it’s even over. There is a rule that every solider must be given a mate of the opposite gender if he or she wishes, resulting in a 50/50 split of males and females and forced couplings among non-romantically-involved soldiers. The military operates so much like a machine that the human element is often forgotten. This is very evidence when the soldiers return home and experience “future shock” — something the military never accounted for and does not seem concerned about. In fact, the military becomes the one constant in their lives they can count on.

One of the interesting ideas of the book is that the soldiers are only briefly effective due to the effects of time dilation. The Taurans are unprepared, at first, but quickly up the ante with more deadly weapons. Soldiers who are sent out to fight with the latest and greatest weaponry return home with the equivalent of peashooters since things have changed so much by the time they get back. It makes for a frustrating battle — the soldiers are far less effective than the technology they wield.

Another interesting idea is the way the Earth changes. Haldeman’s vision of the Earth is that it grows so crowded that the government begins to encourage homosexuality as the norm. Mandella eventually finds himself commanding a regiment of people who find him the deviant, and even has to rebuff the advances of one of his officers. Humanity continues to change until it is something so different, so alien, that Mandella is forced to join a team of people from his era who set out to colonize a new world.

There is, of course, a surprise in the nature of the war that’s being fought as well. The Taurans are not what they seem, and the premises of the war are not exactly what the military originally claimed. There is a real sense of betrayal at the hands of the military, something that echoes Haldeman’s own experiences in Vietnam, but also the broader theme of any military, from any time, having a secret agenda. Wars are not fought over big ideas, like freedom and safety; they are fought over little things, like wealth and land.

Some see this book as a response to Robert Heinlein’s Starship Troopers, and there are certainly some parallels. Haldeman has always played this connection down. I suspect it was an influence, but not his sole motivation for writing the book. For what it’s worth, The Forever War is a much better book than Starship Troopers. I’m not sure that I feel the same way about the sequels (direct sequel Forever Free and thematic sequel Forever Peace), though. While they’re similar in some ways, they just don’t have the same feel to them that The Forever War does.

There’s a 1988 graphic novel adaptation of this book that’s faithful, but condensed, and Ridley Scott’s working on a 3D film that probably won’t be any good at all. There’s also a parallel short story (“A Seperate War”) and a connecting comic (A New Beginning). But the original is the best, and well worth reading.

GENRE: Hard Science Fiction
STORY: ****
CHARACTERS: ****
CONCEPT: ****
RE-READABILITY: ****

[Book Reviews] ‘Lizard Music’ by Daniel Manus Pinkwater

"Lizard Music" by Daniel Manus Pinkwater

Note: Today’s book is also available as a free audiobook for download, read by the author. It’s worth listening to, and great for car trips! Get it here.

Rounding out my trilogy of Pinkwater reviews is a book called Lizard Music. This isn’t to say I’m going to stop reviewing Pinkwater books; it is to say, however, that I’m going to move on to other authors for awhile and come back to Pinkwater books down the road. Plus, Lizard Music is probably one of his best.

The story is about Victor, a twelve-year-old boy who is left home alone when his parents take a vacation and his older sister sneaks out to go camping with her hippie friends. This suits Victor just fine; he’s smart enough to take care of himself, and has plenty of money and TV dinners to get him through solitude. Plus, this means he can watch TV, explore the local city, and go swimming whenever he wants.

When Victor stays up late one night, he sees a band of lizards playing music on his set. He’s pretty sure this isn’t supposed to happen. As the days go by, he sees more weird lizard shows on TV. He also starts seeing lizards everywhere, in connection with all sorts of strange things. He asks a local eccentric known as “The Chicken Man” to help him find the lizards. The two eventually wind up on an island where a large number of friendly, humanoid lizards are living, and Victor has an incredible adventure as he explores their civilization.

There is no villain in this book, and no sense of doom or destiny or anything like that. It’s somewhat of an adventure, somewhat of a coming-of-age story, and somewhat of a hero’s journey all wrapped into one. Victor’s conflict is in understanding who he really is, and why he’s special compared to other people. He begins the story as a normal person who is surrounded by a lot of people who seem crazy. He emerges as someone who is equally as eccentric, but who understands the reasons why someone might be a little different.

When I read this book as a kid, I enjoyed the journey. It didn’t always make a lot of sense to me — there are a lot of dated references to popular culture from the 1970s in the book, particularly in Victor’s obsession with news anchor Walter Cronkite — but I got the gist of what was going on. One of the best running gags in the book is when Victor stays up and watches a movie about pod people (people who have been eaten and replaced by alien plants that look just like them), and reasons that all of the people around him must be pod people as well, because there’s a certain unreality to the way they behave. The lizards confirm his theory, and tell them they’re at war with the pod people. The gag never develops into anything tangible — Pinkwater may have been holding it back for a sequel — but one gets the sense that part of the story’s deeper meaning is that Victor is protecting himself from becoming a pod person by becoming a friend of the lizards. In other words, Victor is giving up the lifestyle of trying to blend in, and taking on the persona of the misfit.

Misfits are really important in Pinkwater books, and I can only assume that his goal in writing books for children was to let them know that being unusual, eccentric, or even crazy is OK, and even preferable to being dull and trying to fit in with the popular kids. Lizard Music is one of those books that really rewards the hero for being curious and willing to accept new ideas… and it challenges the reader to think about the world a little differently as well.

If I have a complaint, it’s that the end of the book is a little hurried, as if Pinkwater meant to spend longer having Victor tour the island, but ran out of time. The Lizards are too nice, and too friendly, and there’s no conflict other than the ticking timer that indicates that Victor will eventually have to leave. There is an interesting little subplot about chickens, but it hatches (hah!) into something fairly unexciting, despite the fact that the lizards themselves are very excited about it.

While this book is intended for children, I’d recommend it for adults as well. The free audio book is a really fantastic listen, and great for a car trip.

GENRE: Magical Realism / Fantasy
STORY: *** 1/2
CHARACTERS: ****
CONCEPT: ****
RE-READABILITY: ****

[Book Review] ‘Dying Inside’ by Robert Silverberg

"Dying Inside" by Robert Silverberg

Do true telepaths exist? And if they did, what would their lives be like? Robert Silverberg tackles this question in Dying Inside, a sci-fi book from 1972 about a middle-aged neurotic Jewish man living in New York City who has had the power his entire life to read minds… but who is finding the power diminishing as he gets older.

David Selig has spent his entire life as a god walking among mortals. By projecting his mind into others, he can see their innermost thoughts. But whereas some might use this power to take advantage of others, Selig squanders it, finding himself bound by a sense of morality that prohibits him from using his gift for more than simple voyeurism. He doesn’t mind using his gift as a trick so that he can seduce a woman or gain a quick insight into others’ experiences, but he never uses it for and major evil… or any major good.

And that’s what makes this book such an interesting read. Silverberg tells the story from Selig’s point of view as he realizes that his gift is finally waning, that he is becoming telepathically impotent, and that his entire life has been a waste. As Selig’s present-day narrative shows the pitiful outcome of his decisions, he reflects back on many periods of his life, and how he was able to use his power to help himself… or hurt himself. There’s the story of a lost love, Kitty, the one person he was unable to read. There’s the story of another telepath, Nyquist, who ultimately betrayed Selig because he lacked morality. There’s the story of an acid trip gone bad that allowed another girlfriend, Toni, to briefly connect with Selig and to see the horror of his soul. There’s the story of Selig’s relationship with his sister, Judith, and the hatred she developed as she realized she had no thoughts that were private from him.

The content of the book is a bit mature — Silverberg tends to write gratuitous sex scenes into his books, but in this case, they actually fit. The story is about a man who can penetrate the minds of others, and the juxtoposition with sexual experiences is interesting and relevant. Sex is one of the few times when Selig feels like his connection with others is a two-way street. It’s also one of the few times when his mental probing proves ineffective, since the intense feelings associated with it can sever the mental bond. At the same time, Selig’s fascination with examining the sexual experiences of others shows how much he’s squandering his gift — he’s little more than a peeping Tom at times, something which defines his character.

The writing is good, and very interesting. It’s definitely one of Silverberg’s best books, and it’s very accessible even to non-science fiction readers. I’d actually say it’s closer in tone to magical realism, since the cause of telepathy is never explained nor justified. Unlike a lot of Silverberg books, this one actually has an ending, though I’m still on the fence as to whether or not it’s satisfying. It’s certainly interesting, if nothing else. You know when you pick up a book called Dying Inside that it’s going to have a dark, melancholy quality about it, and the tragic figure of David Selig is pathetic and unremarkable in the real world, despite his extraordinary gift. Fear prevents him from sharing what he really is with others, and he spends his entire life trying to blend in rather than trying to stand out. It’s sad, but real.

I’ve heard it said that this book is one of the most literary science fiction novels ever written. I’d certainly agree; Silverberg plays with various writing styles to suit the moods of the character, and uses the character’s background as a writer and English major to make allusions to classic works and to justify unusual narrative styles. There are some great lines in the book that play on the pretentiousness of the character. But there’s also a wonderful element of self-deprecation that gives the narrator some plausibility. He sounds like a Jewish man living in New York, and there are times where, in the reading, you can hear his voice, his accent, his inflections. It’s a masterful use of character, which is something you don’t often see in science fiction.

I find that a lot of my science fiction-reading friends aren’t familiar with Robert Silverberg, and that’s a shame. I’ll review several of his books this week for good measure. I had the good fortune of working with him on a graphic adaptation of one of his novellas, and I have enormous respect for him. He’s written novels for 55 years and is still putting out new work in his advanced years. He’s really fallen off the map as far as contemporary readers go, but he’s still well-known among sci-fi writers for his strong storytelling ability.

GENRE: Magical Realism / Sci-Fi
STORY: ****
CHARACTERS: ****
CONCEPT: ****
RE-READABILITY: ****

[Book Reviews] ‘The Snarkout Boys and the Avocado of Death’ by Daniel Manus Pinkwater

"The Snarkout Boys and the Avocado of Death" by Daniel Manus Pinkwater

NOTE: Today’s book is also available as a free audiobook download that’s read by the author himself. It’s really funny. Get it here.

Daniel Manus Pinkwater (a.k.a. D.M. Pinkwater or Daniel Pinkwater — he likes to change it up to confuse librarians) is a fantastic writer. He’s also a fantastic storyteller. But where I mean the first use of “fantastic” as an adjective describing the QUALITY of his work, I mean the second use as an adjective describing the STYLE of his work. More than anyone I’ve ever read, Pinkwater is able to take fairly normal people and propel them into the purest realms of fantasy. He’s not writing about knights and wizards and dragons, though he could be if he wanted to. But his works take the reader into places unknown, places that have a certain magical quality about them, and which seem to be built partially on memory and partially on dreams.

And maybe “dreamlike” is the best way to describe The Snarkout Boys and the Avocado of Death, because it begins as a simple story about a boy named Walter Galt who is bored with his high school. Walter is a misfit, an intelligent person among a bunch of dullards. His only friend is a similar misfit named Winston Bongo, the inventor of “snarking out” — sneaking out in the middle of the night, riding a bus into Baconburg and watching movies at an old theater called The Snark. Snarking out helps Walter manage the tedium of high school and the insanity of his family — his mother is a terrible cook who believes communists are lurking around every corner, and his father is obsessed with avocados.

Winston and Walter eventually befriend a girl they call “Rat,” and they discover that snarking out is something that many people do, including Rat’s uncle, Flipping Hades Terwilliger, who never misses a show. But when Uncle Flipping goes missing (something he’s prone to do), the boys put their snarkout plans to the side and go on a quest to travel through the underworld of Baconburg (not necessarily a seedy place, but rather, a literal street underneath a street) searching for Uncle Flipping… and find themselves tangled up in an international criminal caper that revolves around a specially-bred avocado that can think like a computer.

OK, so the book’s a little bit weird. But it’s a good kind of weird, and well-written. It’s an adventure into places that no other writer will ever take you, with characters who could only exist in a Pinkwater book. There’s a sense of nostalgia to the book, a longing for old things and simple pleasures. The sequel, The Snarkout Boys and the Baconburg Horror, is also quite good, and though it’s a little more aware of how weird it is, it’s also worth a read. (As a child, I read the sequel first, and thus preferred it, but many people feel that the original is the better of the two books.)

Though this is a book you’d find the Young Adult section, it’s a great light read, for three reasons:

1) It’s unique. I don’t use that word often, but it applies here. I’ve never read a book like it.
2) It’s never boring. Even though the book starts to get a little farcical towards the end, it still moves along at a brisk clip, and the ebb and flow of characters makes for interesting reading.
3) It doesn’t talk down to its audience. Part of the reason I can read this book as an adult and enjoy it so much is because it’s written for an intelligent audience. Pinkwater never talks down to kids, even in his picture books. That’s one of the reasons I liked them so much as a kid; they didn’t demean me.

If I have one complaint about this book, it’s that the story turns into a mystery two thirds of the way in that is not developed or compelling. The Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson-esque characters, while amusing, wear on you after awhile because they have everything figured out already and take dozens of pages to fill in all the backstory. You also feel no real satisfaction at seeing the master criminal, Wallace Nussbaum, brought to justice at the end because he never threatens the characters in any way.

This is a great collection, and well worth owning.

But don’t let that dissuade you from reading it. It’s fantastic, and you can buy it in a collection with four other great books:

• Alan Mendelsohn, the Boy from Mars
• Slaves of Spiegel
• The Last Guru
• Young Adult Novel

Give it a try. If you like the weird, you won’t be disappointed.

GENRE: Magical Realism / Fantasy
STORY: *** 1/2
CHARACTERS: ****
CONCEPT: ****
RE-READABILITY: ****

[Book Review] ‘The Neddiad’ by Daniel Manus Pinkwater

"The Neddiad" by Daniel Manus Pinkwater

I don’t know too many kids who grew up reading the way I did. Most of the kids I knew struggled to read, and most of what they read was pretty trashy stuff. Thriller books, ghost stories, books about high school kids having sex and getting killed by serial killers, and so forth.

But not me. Nope. I was reading the works of Daniel Manus Pinkwater, an author whose surreal, fantastic novels were the closest thing to a drug trip my mind could endure without actually abusing some kind of chemical.

Pinkwater wrote a lot of strange children’s novels in the ’70s and ’80s. I’ll touch on some of them in other reviews. But for now, I want to discuss a recent title of his, The Neddiad: How Neddie Took the Train, Went to Hollywood, and Saved Civilization.

It’s hard to describe a Pinkwater book without first explaining that the plot itself is inconsequential. That might sound like a slam, but it’s really not. Pinkwater seems to start his books with some vague idea of where they’re going, and he occasionally remembers to use techniques like foreshadowing and plot structure to pull you along. But sometimes, he just gets lost in his own wackiness and lets things go crazy. This was definitely true in some of my favorite novels of his, like The Snarkout Boys and the Avocado of Death and Borgel.

The Neddiad starts off with a young boy writing about moving to LA in the 1950s, and quickly gets derailed into the realm of the weird when young Neddie is accidentally left behind at a train station. He befriends the son of a famous actor, meets a phantom bellboy, and has a bizarre encounter with a shaman named Melvin who gives him a little stone turtle to take care of. Neddie’s adventures veer off into tangents, and there’s not much of a sense of purpose behind the plot until the last third of the book, when the villain is finally introduced and things rapidly move towards a climax. In the meantime, the reader is treated to some really wonderful scenes and characters that seem like they were thrown in simply because they were interesting to Pinkwater at the time. One such character, Yggdrasil (also known as Iggy), serves very little purpose in the story aside from being the smart female companion to Neddie and his friend Seaumus in the second half of the book. (She’s the main character in the sequel, so I’m assuming her limited role was included for introductions’ sake. But it’s hard to tell with Pinkwater.)

Though this is a children’s book geared at the advanced chapter book kids, I found it readable and rewarding as an adult as well. I’ve never had a problem picking up a book marked “Young Adult” and reading it for pleasure. Sometimes, those books are the most imaginative, and it’s refreshing to read a book where hammy love stories aren’t being forced in and awkward sex scenes don’t have to be skipped over. Plus, Pinkwater’s books tend to feature overweight characters who are interested in mundane things and who don’t mind getting themselves into odd adventures. I love that.

One scene with this book will stick with me for awhile. Neddie and Seamus make friends with a boy whose father owns a circus, and the children watch as an old horse is taken out to pasture and shot dead by circus handlers. The boys are surprised, but the son of the circus owner explains, “Well, the lions have to eat something…”. It’s a chilling scene, and one of those moments where the book leaves the safe confines of fantasy and edges into reality. Most writers couldn’t pull it off, but Pinkwater’s good enough that the darkness is contained by some truly wacky moments elsewhere in the novel.

I’d recommend this book to anyone who needs a light, humorous read with a hint of fantasy to it. Fans of Norse mythology will also get a kick out of some of the allusions in this title, though they’re not too pronounced.

GENRE: Magical Realism / Fantasy
STORY: *** 1/2
CHARACTERS: ****
CONCEPT: ****
RE-READABILITY: ****