What is extreme science fiction? Ashley helpfully offers a definition in the introduction that it is a story which takes a wonderful idea and uses it to push limits while still remaining a respectable story. The nineteen stories in this book were supposedly arranged in order from least to greatest extremes. I can’t say that I would have followed that same order, but I can say that most of the stories expanded my mind in some fashion. There were times when I became irritated with a story because a concept or alien perspective was particularly difficult to handle, but there was always a payoff at the completion of each story. I definitely recommend assorted collections for readers looking for emerging or even well established authors in a genre; I already have a list of four authors whose works I have to pursue.
This collection has convinced me that I want a portion of my writing to find a niche some place along the vast spectrum of science fiction. The major attraction is that these stories are very memorable, and the impressive range of ideas can make for a damned good story. I can’t resist recounting a few ideas explored in these stories. Two members aboard a 250 million year old spaceship huge enough to contain entire planets and hundreds of coexisting alien species uncover a carefully concealed genocide. Human members exploring a potential colony world are attacked by repulsive blobs which turn out to be their own internal organs. An immortal witnesses the death of the universe. An entire planet made of randomly moving molecules is found to be a computing machine for creatures that live in a separate reality. Humans try to throw a feast in a time where everyone has essentially forgotten how to eat.
This collection has rekindled my love for science fiction. The genre is a beautiful blend of wild exploration and careful experimentation that I find irresistible. These stories push limits in ways that sometimes make me feel small and insignificant. This is actually a very comforting feeling that reminds me not to take myself too seriously. Most of all, it’s just plain fun.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Reservation Blues by Sherman Alexie
A man who had no natural talent for playing the guitar made a deal with the Gentleman to become the best guitar player in the world. It turns out that this isn’t the type of deal that one would want to keep forever, and this guitar man eventually winds up on a Spokane Reservation. The guitar decides to keep the deal running with a young man living on the reservation, and this union gives birth to the Coyote Springs band. Alexie takes the story of Robert Johnson, the best damn guitar player to ever live, and turns it into something that is undoubtedly his own artful creation. Each chapter begins with lyrics that might appear in a blues song while unearthing another facet of life on a reservation and what came before. I found that these lyrical beginnings helped the story flow seamlessly but with warmth like a treasured vintage record.
I was further amazed by this flow when I realized that the entire book was divided into numerous scenes that averaged about three pages each. This technique immediately made me think of the writer’s self-help book Bird by Bird, and it also gave the story a neat feel as if it were a mysteriously assembled puzzle that may or may not have had a big picture in mind; I’ll have to read more Alexie to see if this approach is used in his other books. I was really disappointed when the otherwise smooth flow of the story seemed to meet some resistance near the end of Reservation Blues. It felt as if Alexie was trying to wrap everything up after Coyote Springs’ audition in New York. Saying goodbye is never easy, but I would have been fine with an ending that left me with more uncertainty.
I experienced a healthy amount of uncertainty when trying to come up with a definite difference between the functions of Big Mom and the Gentleman. Both seem to offer a path of success or damnation to the musically inclined who are willing to interact with them. Does one path represent God and the other the devil? Does it all tie back into free will, or is that my assumption that I can even comprehend the motives of God or the devil? Perhaps the difference is that one of them only offers the illusion of free will. This is the type of uncertainty that I would have liked to see in the ending. I’m beginning to realize that this uncertainty may be part of the attraction of poetry. I’ve never spent much time exploring poetry, but I intend to start with Sherman Alexie.
I was further amazed by this flow when I realized that the entire book was divided into numerous scenes that averaged about three pages each. This technique immediately made me think of the writer’s self-help book Bird by Bird, and it also gave the story a neat feel as if it were a mysteriously assembled puzzle that may or may not have had a big picture in mind; I’ll have to read more Alexie to see if this approach is used in his other books. I was really disappointed when the otherwise smooth flow of the story seemed to meet some resistance near the end of Reservation Blues. It felt as if Alexie was trying to wrap everything up after Coyote Springs’ audition in New York. Saying goodbye is never easy, but I would have been fine with an ending that left me with more uncertainty.
I experienced a healthy amount of uncertainty when trying to come up with a definite difference between the functions of Big Mom and the Gentleman. Both seem to offer a path of success or damnation to the musically inclined who are willing to interact with them. Does one path represent God and the other the devil? Does it all tie back into free will, or is that my assumption that I can even comprehend the motives of God or the devil? Perhaps the difference is that one of them only offers the illusion of free will. This is the type of uncertainty that I would have liked to see in the ending. I’m beginning to realize that this uncertainty may be part of the attraction of poetry. I’ve never spent much time exploring poetry, but I intend to start with Sherman Alexie.
American Gods by Neil Gaiman
The power of a god or goddess is dependent on the number of their followers as well as their continued belief. Furthermore, this deity could not have existed without this belief in the first place. This idea seems both intuitive and startlingly absurd, and Gaiman plays with this contradiction by detailing the adventures of Shadow, a recently released convict. He is offered a job by a man who calls himself Mr. Wednesday, who eventually lets on that he is the American version of the god Odin. Yes, there are multiple embodiments of the same god in different areas of the world where there is still enough belief to sustain them. Gaiman details this wonderfully at times by recounting past stories of immigrants who brought their own gods with them to this strange, alien land broadly referred to as America. We are also introduced to these gods, who are memorable characters as gods should be, as Shadow joins Mr. Wednesday in his scheme to unite the older generation of gods.
Yes, there is a generational gap between the new gods and old gods; both generations must compete for precious believers. The old gods are out of touch and belief in them has waned; most have settled down into a more or less human way of life. The new gods are created and grow in power so rapidly that they have no idea what to do with their newfound belief. The stage is set for conflict, and yes, gods can die. I won’t ruin the ending, but I’ll say that much of the book is spent building up to that final showdown. Patience was not required for me to get to this point; the back stories and interactions of the gods were fascinating enough on their own.
I only realized that tremendous amount of research that Gaiman had put into this story when I read the very complete list of acknowledgements. As a fiction writer, this both intimidates and fascinates me. I originally set out to read this book after reading a collection of Gaiman’s short stories and being left with the question “how does an author decide whether their creation is best put to use as a short story or as a novel?” I’m beginning to think that it’s not so much a choice as an overwhelming desire to keep exploring an idea.
Yes, there is a generational gap between the new gods and old gods; both generations must compete for precious believers. The old gods are out of touch and belief in them has waned; most have settled down into a more or less human way of life. The new gods are created and grow in power so rapidly that they have no idea what to do with their newfound belief. The stage is set for conflict, and yes, gods can die. I won’t ruin the ending, but I’ll say that much of the book is spent building up to that final showdown. Patience was not required for me to get to this point; the back stories and interactions of the gods were fascinating enough on their own.
I only realized that tremendous amount of research that Gaiman had put into this story when I read the very complete list of acknowledgements. As a fiction writer, this both intimidates and fascinates me. I originally set out to read this book after reading a collection of Gaiman’s short stories and being left with the question “how does an author decide whether their creation is best put to use as a short story or as a novel?” I’m beginning to think that it’s not so much a choice as an overwhelming desire to keep exploring an idea.
Fragile Things by Neil Gaiman
Fragile Things begins with a remarkable introduction that details the process and motivation behind each piece in this collection of Neil Gaiman’s short stories. I recommend reading these descriptions after finishing the rest of the book, since several shed too much light on what would have been otherwise utterly unpredictable stories. The “fragile things” that piece together this book reveal an impressive range from whimsical poems to boyhood traumas to haunting accounts of what may lay beyond human understanding. The characters and situations mostly follow this same pattern; there was no time throughout the entire book where I found myself thinking “Hey, this story is really similar to that one four or five pieces back.”
Neil Gaiman’s collection also left me with a nagging question. How does a writer know whether their creation is best put to use as a short story or as novel? The first piece, a detective story called A Study in Emerald, already saw this question take form. I found myself resentful as if a host had just introduced me to all these wonderful people at a party before showing me to the door fifteen minutes later. I was actually relieved when an intriguing character, known simply as Mr. Alice, made a brief appearance in a later story. Gaiman hints that these stories, these fragile things may not be so fragile. As a writer, I’m determined to explore where these intricate structures stand tall and where they collapse. I believe that Gaiman will be a useful guide on this journey, so I intend to pick that man’s brain by looking now to his novels.
Neil Gaiman’s collection also left me with a nagging question. How does a writer know whether their creation is best put to use as a short story or as novel? The first piece, a detective story called A Study in Emerald, already saw this question take form. I found myself resentful as if a host had just introduced me to all these wonderful people at a party before showing me to the door fifteen minutes later. I was actually relieved when an intriguing character, known simply as Mr. Alice, made a brief appearance in a later story. Gaiman hints that these stories, these fragile things may not be so fragile. As a writer, I’m determined to explore where these intricate structures stand tall and where they collapse. I believe that Gaiman will be a useful guide on this journey, so I intend to pick that man’s brain by looking now to his novels.
Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott
If I had to describe this book in three words, then I might say “honest, insightful, and refreshing!” Happily, this is not a movie review, so I have the chance to possibly say something meaningful about this honest, insightful, and refreshing work. Anne Lamott is like a word doctor who steps into a waiting room packed with sickly writers and announces “I have some good news, and I have some bad news.” I felt like I had already been given advice dealing with short assignments and shitty first drafts. On second thought, I wasn’t sure if some of this advice had been given to me in earlier writing workshops or if it sometimes just seemed so intuitive that I merely thought I had encountered it before. That is part of the genius of this book; it starts with the seemingly obvious before branching off into subtleties that somehow take us back to those natural ideas.
Even the title parallels this natural flow achieved by Lamott. She guides us gently through the concept of short assignments such as writing as much as you can see through a one inch picture frame, and I felt my frustration mounting when she recounted an excruciating personal experience of constructing, deconstructing, and reconstructing a novel. Yes, but how do we move from short assignments to full length books? I was enlightened by my own stupidity when I reread earlier sections and then actually bothered to comprehend the title. Bird by bird, piece by piece means that there is no secret technique to writing a short passage or a novel. A vengeful part of me was heartened by the mention that published writers still have to endure this painful process. The main concept that stuck with me was the perseverance required in learning how to let yourself go (listening to your broccoli) while keeping yourself pinned to the computer screen or piece of paper on which you are writing. Bird by Bird is not a book that I will reread all the way through again. Instead, I believe that a better approach to this book is passage by passage as different difficulties arise in my own writing process.
Even the title parallels this natural flow achieved by Lamott. She guides us gently through the concept of short assignments such as writing as much as you can see through a one inch picture frame, and I felt my frustration mounting when she recounted an excruciating personal experience of constructing, deconstructing, and reconstructing a novel. Yes, but how do we move from short assignments to full length books? I was enlightened by my own stupidity when I reread earlier sections and then actually bothered to comprehend the title. Bird by bird, piece by piece means that there is no secret technique to writing a short passage or a novel. A vengeful part of me was heartened by the mention that published writers still have to endure this painful process. The main concept that stuck with me was the perseverance required in learning how to let yourself go (listening to your broccoli) while keeping yourself pinned to the computer screen or piece of paper on which you are writing. Bird by Bird is not a book that I will reread all the way through again. Instead, I believe that a better approach to this book is passage by passage as different difficulties arise in my own writing process.
Four Souls by Louise Erdrich
Erdrich’s use of multiple narrators in Four Souls weaves an intricate but coherent story. My only difficulty with this achievement was how Nanapush had an in depth knowledge of Fleur’s activity when he hardly seemed to speak to her. I found myself emotionally invested in three out of the four narrators, but I was always aware of an uncomfortable boundary between myself and Fleur. I cannot recall a single passage focusing of Fleur that took place in the first person, yet we have that for all the remaining narrators. This would not have been so bad if Fleur had not come across as the central figure of the story. I got the sense the Erdrich had built this character up so much that any real level of intimacy would have spoiled that careful illusion.
At the same time, I believe that Fleur was a complex and evolving character. She is a mother, an independent spirit following an uncertain path of revenge, and person with multiple names that speak of a larger story beyond her existence. I am disappointed that I cannot get Fleur’s own perspective on her complexity and evolution. Four Souls did me a service by taking me through unfamiliar territory, and I intend to continue this particular journey by looking at least one of Erdrich’s other works before I head to other lands.
At the same time, I believe that Fleur was a complex and evolving character. She is a mother, an independent spirit following an uncertain path of revenge, and person with multiple names that speak of a larger story beyond her existence. I am disappointed that I cannot get Fleur’s own perspective on her complexity and evolution. Four Souls did me a service by taking me through unfamiliar territory, and I intend to continue this particular journey by looking at least one of Erdrich’s other works before I head to other lands.
Book Reviews
I have a bunch of time on my hands, so I've been reading about three to five books a month. If you like to read and are looking for new authors, then you might find this helpful. Some of this is also part of my low residency MFA at Antioch; I'm supposed to read a few books, annotate them, and see if I've gained any useful information from the last two steps. If you have any suggestions for writers or books that I should check out, then please let me know!
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