Sacred Visions, edited by Andrew M. Greeley and Michael Cassutt. 1991.
This anthology of religiously-themed SF stories is the best work of its kind that I’ve yet encountered. The works included are all either by Catholic authors or on Catholic topics.
Included are three acknowledged classics of 50s SF: the original short story versions of “A Case of Conscience” and “A Canticle for Leibowitz,” and Anthony Boucher’s “The Quest for Saint Aquin.” These stories alone would make the collection worthwhile, but there are some more recent gems as well.
Robert Silverberg’s “The Pope of the Chimps” is a poignant and respectful exploration of the roots of religious experience. R. A. Lafferty’s “And Walk Now Gently Through The Fire” combines a post-apocalyptic tale about the apostles of a diminished Church with commentaries by Screwtape-like demons. It builds to a mystical epiphany of unparalled beauty. “Our Lady of the Endless Sky,” centred around Marian devotion, is about hard-working Moon colonists and the chaplain who serves them.
Several of the stories were commissioned specifically for this book. Jack McDevitt’s “Gus” is startlingly good. Gus is Augustine, or at least a computerized version of him, who spars with and then counsels a disillusioned seminary director. A story involving a (possibly) extinct race of alien converts to Christianity, “The Seraph From Its Sepulchre,” is vintage Gene Wolfe – mysterious, profound, and moving. Michael Cassutt’s “Curious Elation” reads like a Twilight Zone episode on guilt and regret healed by miraculous grace.
As with any anthology, there are a few works that seem out of place – the worst of these is Fr. Greeley’s contribution, “Xorinda the Witch.” A transparent clunker on the redemptive power of tolerance and sex magic over religious fanaticism, it might not seem too bad in a collection of New Age fantasy written by teenagers, but to find it wedged between ‘Conscience’ and ‘Canticle’ is almost painful. Nancy Kress’ long story “Trinity” isn’t bad but doesn’t fit, involving a technological version of sex magic that seeks contact with an oblivious divinity. And James Patrick Kelly’s “Saint Theresa of the Aliens” seems to see Catholicism as being primarily about fanaticism and anti-Communism.
This is certainly not a bad ratio, as anthologies go, and the excellence of the other works more than make up for it.
4.5 out of 5
Monday, July 31, 2006
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Book Review - Declare
Declare, by Tim Powers. 2001.
Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth?
Declare, if thou hast understanding.
Tim Power’s novels are in the supernatural tradition of Chesterton’s The Man Who Was Thursday and Charles Williams’ Descent Into Hell. A descendant of Williams’ The Greater Trumps, Last Call ventured into games of high-stakes Las Vegas poker played with Tarot cards and souls. Expiration Date journeyed through the haunts of ghost-eaters and spiritual warriors, guided by the shade of Thomas Edison. Power’s books describe unnoticed corners of life and discover there eerie hints of a world deeper than the one we see.
What better setting for this kind of tale than the already-shadowy realms of international subterfuge, of cryptography, assassination and suicide pills? Declare’s double agents are cousins to Thursday’s anarchists and secret police officers. Both novels affirm that when people go deep enough into the inner workings of the world, they encounter spiritual realities, active powers and principalities that force them to decide their basic loyalties.
Declare discovers the occult subtext for the long struggle between England and Russia, beginning with the 19th century Great Game and intensifying during the 20th century Cold War. Combining meticulous historical research with far-fetched speculation, Powers imagines agencies hidden within agencies, fighting a decades-long war in the shadows. What did Lawrence of Arabia discover in the desert that threatened his sanity and brought about his assassination? Why were there so many bizarre occurrences surrounding Kim Philby, the influential British spymaster and long-time Soviet traitor? And why did both sides pay so much covert attention to eastern Turkey – or more precisely, to Mount Ararat? Powers draws his answers from the Bible, the Thousand and One Nights, Armenian folk tales, and the complex biographies of real-life spies.
Declare moves back and forth through the life of its protagonist, Andrew Hale, a lapsed Catholic and professor of English literature. The reader learns that he was recruited by the British secret service and sent to infiltrate a Soviet network in wartime Paris. He soon found himself drawn into an even more secret body, known as Operation Declare, and was driven to the edges of life and sanity in postwar Berlin and in the deserts of Saudi Arabia. Defeated on the slopes of Mount Ararat in 1948, he is reactivated in 1963 in a last-ditch attempt to complete Declare’s mission.
Powers weaves fact and fiction together so skillfully that the reader is hard pressed to tell where one begins and the other ends. He chooses his historic settings and characters well – it does not strain credulity to imagine that bloodthirsty supernatural beings would have been right at home in the unspeakable horror of Stalin’s purges and in the massacres that were carried out by the NKVD. Nor is it hard to believe that already-unscrupulous leaders and backroom power brokers would seek to harness such beings. In this respect, Declare is also in the tradition of C.S. Lewis’ That Hideous Strength, with its pitiless and deluded demon-worshippers. When people ruthlessly seek hidden knowledge for the power which accompanies it, they encounter forces which in turn enslave them.
While Powers includes plenty of excitement and variety to keep things moving, he does tend to repeat himself at times, dropping the same clues more than once. Further, many characters are prone to giving long expository speeches, in which they sound almost indistinguishable from one another. Declare covers a lot of ground, so it’s hard to see how these explanatory sections could be avoided, but they do disrupt one’s immersion in the story to some extent. For the most part, though, the writing is tense and compelling.
While religious elements in the plot are plentiful, Powers also works in a more subtle spiritual journey. One notices that Hale’s Catholicism is perhaps not as lapsed as he likes to think. In the shifting and ambiguous world of espionage, he must determine where his loyalties lie. He is forced to learn the difference between magic and grace, and to choose between coercive power and sacrificial love.
All in all, a great book – creepy, convincing, and thought-provoking.
4.5 out of 5
Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth?
Declare, if thou hast understanding.
Tim Power’s novels are in the supernatural tradition of Chesterton’s The Man Who Was Thursday and Charles Williams’ Descent Into Hell. A descendant of Williams’ The Greater Trumps, Last Call ventured into games of high-stakes Las Vegas poker played with Tarot cards and souls. Expiration Date journeyed through the haunts of ghost-eaters and spiritual warriors, guided by the shade of Thomas Edison. Power’s books describe unnoticed corners of life and discover there eerie hints of a world deeper than the one we see.
What better setting for this kind of tale than the already-shadowy realms of international subterfuge, of cryptography, assassination and suicide pills? Declare’s double agents are cousins to Thursday’s anarchists and secret police officers. Both novels affirm that when people go deep enough into the inner workings of the world, they encounter spiritual realities, active powers and principalities that force them to decide their basic loyalties.
Declare discovers the occult subtext for the long struggle between England and Russia, beginning with the 19th century Great Game and intensifying during the 20th century Cold War. Combining meticulous historical research with far-fetched speculation, Powers imagines agencies hidden within agencies, fighting a decades-long war in the shadows. What did Lawrence of Arabia discover in the desert that threatened his sanity and brought about his assassination? Why were there so many bizarre occurrences surrounding Kim Philby, the influential British spymaster and long-time Soviet traitor? And why did both sides pay so much covert attention to eastern Turkey – or more precisely, to Mount Ararat? Powers draws his answers from the Bible, the Thousand and One Nights, Armenian folk tales, and the complex biographies of real-life spies.
Declare moves back and forth through the life of its protagonist, Andrew Hale, a lapsed Catholic and professor of English literature. The reader learns that he was recruited by the British secret service and sent to infiltrate a Soviet network in wartime Paris. He soon found himself drawn into an even more secret body, known as Operation Declare, and was driven to the edges of life and sanity in postwar Berlin and in the deserts of Saudi Arabia. Defeated on the slopes of Mount Ararat in 1948, he is reactivated in 1963 in a last-ditch attempt to complete Declare’s mission.
Powers weaves fact and fiction together so skillfully that the reader is hard pressed to tell where one begins and the other ends. He chooses his historic settings and characters well – it does not strain credulity to imagine that bloodthirsty supernatural beings would have been right at home in the unspeakable horror of Stalin’s purges and in the massacres that were carried out by the NKVD. Nor is it hard to believe that already-unscrupulous leaders and backroom power brokers would seek to harness such beings. In this respect, Declare is also in the tradition of C.S. Lewis’ That Hideous Strength, with its pitiless and deluded demon-worshippers. When people ruthlessly seek hidden knowledge for the power which accompanies it, they encounter forces which in turn enslave them.
While Powers includes plenty of excitement and variety to keep things moving, he does tend to repeat himself at times, dropping the same clues more than once. Further, many characters are prone to giving long expository speeches, in which they sound almost indistinguishable from one another. Declare covers a lot of ground, so it’s hard to see how these explanatory sections could be avoided, but they do disrupt one’s immersion in the story to some extent. For the most part, though, the writing is tense and compelling.
While religious elements in the plot are plentiful, Powers also works in a more subtle spiritual journey. One notices that Hale’s Catholicism is perhaps not as lapsed as he likes to think. In the shifting and ambiguous world of espionage, he must determine where his loyalties lie. He is forced to learn the difference between magic and grace, and to choose between coercive power and sacrificial love.
All in all, a great book – creepy, convincing, and thought-provoking.
4.5 out of 5
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Book Review - The Claw of the Conciliator
The Claw of the Conciliator, by Gene Wolfe.
This is the second volume of Wolfe’s The Book of the New Sun. When we rejoin the protagonist, Severian, he has left the sprawling metropolis of Nessus and is traveling north, headed for his assigned post as executioner in the mountain city of Thrax. Some time has elapsed since we saw him last, and the reader must be careful to pick up clues of how and why he was separated from his fellow travelers of the previous volume.
Severian’s world becomes ever more rich and vivid, as we see a rustic festival in the village of Saltus; the magnificent but dangerous haunts of the outlaw ‘Liege of Leaves;’ and the elaborate ceremonies and environs of The House Absolute, the home of the ruling Autarch. Severian’s gift of perfect memory begins to play a larger role in the story. As in the first volume, nothing is as it seems, and no detail in this byzantine mosaic is insignificant. Just what is the Claw? Who is Jolenta? Why does Jonas have a mechanical hand? What is the true political situation? Who keeps trying to kill Severian? Why is he sometimes two people? What is the meaning of the signs and miracles that have begun to proliferate around him? It may seem that Wolfe is tossing in strange happenings at random, but the persistent reader discovers that the unfolding plot is in fact meticulously constructed.
This is not to say that the story is boring or difficult – Wolfe includes lots of top-notch action and excitement. Severian finds himself in a terrifying underground battle, fights his way through several attempts on his life by assassins and alien creatures, and gets caught up in various quests, kidnappings, escapes and other hair-raising adventures. Wolfe's prose continues to be excellent, so even descriptions of sedate landscapes or meandering conversations are a delight.
Some readers, though, may be put off by Wolfe’s penchant for putting stories within stories. Claw includes at least two examples of this – one chapter is devoted to a story that may be a future version of the tale of Theseus and the Minotaur; another is given over to a play in which Severian is a performer. Some readers will find these diversions absorbing, while others will want to get back to the main plot.
The spiritual element of the work continues to deepen. C.S. Lewis said that certain stories can become part of our personal iconography. Wolfe’s images are uniquely suited to this, ranging as they do from walking statues and an otherworldly prophetess to a time-displaced Green Man hailing from some future Peaceable Kingdom. In particular, Dr. Talos’ play, described in the chapter entitled Eschatology and Genesis, contains much food for thought. It deals with the destruction of an old, exhausted world, and the creation of a new one, under a New Sun. Or is it instead about the redemption of both? Miracles, oblique and hidden in the first volume, become more noticeable now, though no less mysterious. Wolfe’s Catholic vision of suffering and mercy, of sign and sacrament, gradually emerges from this remarkable story.
5 out of 5.
This is the second volume of Wolfe’s The Book of the New Sun. When we rejoin the protagonist, Severian, he has left the sprawling metropolis of Nessus and is traveling north, headed for his assigned post as executioner in the mountain city of Thrax. Some time has elapsed since we saw him last, and the reader must be careful to pick up clues of how and why he was separated from his fellow travelers of the previous volume.
Severian’s world becomes ever more rich and vivid, as we see a rustic festival in the village of Saltus; the magnificent but dangerous haunts of the outlaw ‘Liege of Leaves;’ and the elaborate ceremonies and environs of The House Absolute, the home of the ruling Autarch. Severian’s gift of perfect memory begins to play a larger role in the story. As in the first volume, nothing is as it seems, and no detail in this byzantine mosaic is insignificant. Just what is the Claw? Who is Jolenta? Why does Jonas have a mechanical hand? What is the true political situation? Who keeps trying to kill Severian? Why is he sometimes two people? What is the meaning of the signs and miracles that have begun to proliferate around him? It may seem that Wolfe is tossing in strange happenings at random, but the persistent reader discovers that the unfolding plot is in fact meticulously constructed.
This is not to say that the story is boring or difficult – Wolfe includes lots of top-notch action and excitement. Severian finds himself in a terrifying underground battle, fights his way through several attempts on his life by assassins and alien creatures, and gets caught up in various quests, kidnappings, escapes and other hair-raising adventures. Wolfe's prose continues to be excellent, so even descriptions of sedate landscapes or meandering conversations are a delight.
Some readers, though, may be put off by Wolfe’s penchant for putting stories within stories. Claw includes at least two examples of this – one chapter is devoted to a story that may be a future version of the tale of Theseus and the Minotaur; another is given over to a play in which Severian is a performer. Some readers will find these diversions absorbing, while others will want to get back to the main plot.
The spiritual element of the work continues to deepen. C.S. Lewis said that certain stories can become part of our personal iconography. Wolfe’s images are uniquely suited to this, ranging as they do from walking statues and an otherworldly prophetess to a time-displaced Green Man hailing from some future Peaceable Kingdom. In particular, Dr. Talos’ play, described in the chapter entitled Eschatology and Genesis, contains much food for thought. It deals with the destruction of an old, exhausted world, and the creation of a new one, under a New Sun. Or is it instead about the redemption of both? Miracles, oblique and hidden in the first volume, become more noticeable now, though no less mysterious. Wolfe’s Catholic vision of suffering and mercy, of sign and sacrament, gradually emerges from this remarkable story.
5 out of 5.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Book Review - The Shadow of the Torturer
The Shadow of the Torturer, by Gene Wolfe.
This is the first part of a four-volume work, collectively entitled The Book of the New Sun. The second volume, The Claw of the Conciliator, won the Nebula award in 1981. A fifth volume, entitled The Urth of the New Sun, came out several years later, and both extends and illuminates the original work. While The New Sun will likely never be as popular as, say, The Lord of the Rings, in terms of style, depth and originality Gene Wolfe is a worthy successor to Tolkien and Lewis as a Christian fantasist.
In this volume, Wolfe introduces his readers to a detailed, byzantine world of the far future. The sun is dim and red, and the moon was long ago planted with great forests. Severian, raised by the guild of torturers, relates the events of his life, as he explains how he has 'backed into the throne.' He describes his upbringing in the crumbling Citadel, the act of mercy which sees him cast out of his guild, and his picaresque wanderings through the vast city of Nessus. We encounter Ultan the librarian, the cunning Dr. Talos, Baldanders the giant, the waifish Dorcas, and a host of other unique characters.
Wolfe's prose is beautiful and rich, and the reader can be borne along by it without giving too much heed to the depths below. But depths there are, and every detail is vested with significance, though it takes several readings to grasp many of them. Rather than inventing new words, Wolfe employs archaisms and little-used names, adding to both the strangeness and familiarity of his world. Severian has been called a dishonest narrator. I don't believe he is, though he can be guarded and misleading at times. There are hints and clues scattered through the text, but they're generally only given once, in off-hand remarks or in double meanings.
Christians will find much to reflect on. Severian and other characters muse on philosophical and theological questions. People of this time remember an enigmatic figure called the Conciliator (Severian encounters a relic known as the Claw of the Conciliator), and hope for his coming again as The New Sun. Severian himself is not a particularly good nor pious man, being promiscuous, deceitful, and violent, but throughout there is sense that he is being reshaped by a dark and mysterious Providence.
5 out of 5.
(I originally wrote this for the Christian Fandom website - it will eventually appear there as well.)
This is the first part of a four-volume work, collectively entitled The Book of the New Sun. The second volume, The Claw of the Conciliator, won the Nebula award in 1981. A fifth volume, entitled The Urth of the New Sun, came out several years later, and both extends and illuminates the original work. While The New Sun will likely never be as popular as, say, The Lord of the Rings, in terms of style, depth and originality Gene Wolfe is a worthy successor to Tolkien and Lewis as a Christian fantasist.
In this volume, Wolfe introduces his readers to a detailed, byzantine world of the far future. The sun is dim and red, and the moon was long ago planted with great forests. Severian, raised by the guild of torturers, relates the events of his life, as he explains how he has 'backed into the throne.' He describes his upbringing in the crumbling Citadel, the act of mercy which sees him cast out of his guild, and his picaresque wanderings through the vast city of Nessus. We encounter Ultan the librarian, the cunning Dr. Talos, Baldanders the giant, the waifish Dorcas, and a host of other unique characters.
Wolfe's prose is beautiful and rich, and the reader can be borne along by it without giving too much heed to the depths below. But depths there are, and every detail is vested with significance, though it takes several readings to grasp many of them. Rather than inventing new words, Wolfe employs archaisms and little-used names, adding to both the strangeness and familiarity of his world. Severian has been called a dishonest narrator. I don't believe he is, though he can be guarded and misleading at times. There are hints and clues scattered through the text, but they're generally only given once, in off-hand remarks or in double meanings.
Christians will find much to reflect on. Severian and other characters muse on philosophical and theological questions. People of this time remember an enigmatic figure called the Conciliator (Severian encounters a relic known as the Claw of the Conciliator), and hope for his coming again as The New Sun. Severian himself is not a particularly good nor pious man, being promiscuous, deceitful, and violent, but throughout there is sense that he is being reshaped by a dark and mysterious Providence.
5 out of 5.
(I originally wrote this for the Christian Fandom website - it will eventually appear there as well.)
Friday, July 21, 2006
Book Review - The Speed of Dark
The Speed of Dark, by Elizabeth Moon. 2003. 340 p.
Do you like science fiction? If so, then this book belongs to that genre. If you don’t- it doesn’t matter. I think the genre is not very important because, essentially, this is an intimate, personal story – the story of a few months in one man’s life. While it is set in the (near) future, changes in technology or society are not really the point. Moon’s goal here is to get us to see the world through the eyes of her protagonist, Lou Arrendale, who happens to be autistic.
She does an excellent job of it. Moon’s son is autistic, to begin with, and she’s clearly done a lot of research into the lives of other autists. Lou becomes a very convincing and sympathetic character.
Having been given therapies somewhat more advanced than those used today, Lou is reasonably functional. He has a difficult time interpreting social interaction and is prone to sensory overload, but he lives on his own and has a good job. He takes fencing classes, goes to church, and copes well with the routines of everyday life. The reader is plunged into his rich (and to a non-autist, unusual) inner life.
But there are storm clouds on the horizon – the new manager of Lou’s division resents his autistic employees. At the same time, Lou is plagued with a threatening, mysterious stalker who seeks to make his private life difficult. On top of it all, there are rumors of an experimental cure for autism, involving nanotechnology and genetic modification, which Lou and his colleagues are being pressured to take. He must decide who he is and what he truly values in life.
It is in this process of existential questioning that a spiritual element makes itself felt. Moon, an Episcopalian, weaves Lou’s religious life into the story with subtlety and skill. In fact, it plays a pivotal role in his deliberations. Lou hears a sermon preached on the Gospel of John, the passage on the man who lies by the healing pool at Siloam and waits for someone to lower him in. Instead, Jesus approaches him, and asks him if he wants to be healed. The preacher meditates on this question, pointing out that many of us are so set in our prior expectations and attached to our grievances that we do not take healing when God sends it to us. He also explores the meaning of healing, and whether we know it when we see it.
Lou later discusses the sermon with the priest, and learns that his ideas about the message were something rather different than what Lou gleaned from it. The priest helps Lou with his ideas, but has no easy answers. Still, this is very much the Word Lou needs to fuel his thoughts, and he returns to it again and again as the story progresses, always finding new layers of meaning. I found this to be a very insightful and realistic depiction of the way the Word comes to us.
My only quibble with this novel is that the villains are rather stereotypical and one-dimensional. But this is a minor issue, and Moon has put so much careful characterization into this story that too much more might have made things overly complicated. All in all, it is an amazing book, well deserving of the Nebula Award it received.
4 out of 5.
Do you like science fiction? If so, then this book belongs to that genre. If you don’t- it doesn’t matter. I think the genre is not very important because, essentially, this is an intimate, personal story – the story of a few months in one man’s life. While it is set in the (near) future, changes in technology or society are not really the point. Moon’s goal here is to get us to see the world through the eyes of her protagonist, Lou Arrendale, who happens to be autistic.
She does an excellent job of it. Moon’s son is autistic, to begin with, and she’s clearly done a lot of research into the lives of other autists. Lou becomes a very convincing and sympathetic character.
Having been given therapies somewhat more advanced than those used today, Lou is reasonably functional. He has a difficult time interpreting social interaction and is prone to sensory overload, but he lives on his own and has a good job. He takes fencing classes, goes to church, and copes well with the routines of everyday life. The reader is plunged into his rich (and to a non-autist, unusual) inner life.
But there are storm clouds on the horizon – the new manager of Lou’s division resents his autistic employees. At the same time, Lou is plagued with a threatening, mysterious stalker who seeks to make his private life difficult. On top of it all, there are rumors of an experimental cure for autism, involving nanotechnology and genetic modification, which Lou and his colleagues are being pressured to take. He must decide who he is and what he truly values in life.
It is in this process of existential questioning that a spiritual element makes itself felt. Moon, an Episcopalian, weaves Lou’s religious life into the story with subtlety and skill. In fact, it plays a pivotal role in his deliberations. Lou hears a sermon preached on the Gospel of John, the passage on the man who lies by the healing pool at Siloam and waits for someone to lower him in. Instead, Jesus approaches him, and asks him if he wants to be healed. The preacher meditates on this question, pointing out that many of us are so set in our prior expectations and attached to our grievances that we do not take healing when God sends it to us. He also explores the meaning of healing, and whether we know it when we see it.
Lou later discusses the sermon with the priest, and learns that his ideas about the message were something rather different than what Lou gleaned from it. The priest helps Lou with his ideas, but has no easy answers. Still, this is very much the Word Lou needs to fuel his thoughts, and he returns to it again and again as the story progresses, always finding new layers of meaning. I found this to be a very insightful and realistic depiction of the way the Word comes to us.
My only quibble with this novel is that the villains are rather stereotypical and one-dimensional. But this is a minor issue, and Moon has put so much careful characterization into this story that too much more might have made things overly complicated. All in all, it is an amazing book, well deserving of the Nebula Award it received.
4 out of 5.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Book Review - The Parallel Man
The Parallel Man, by Richard Purtill. 1984. 158 p.
Purtill is a Catholic professor of philosophy, and a scholar of Tolkien and Lewis - you can learn more here.
This is a short book, but the story is not at all straightforward. Prince Casmir is a typical fantasy hero, and when we first meet him he is fighting to save a beautiful princess from a fire-breathing dragon. Before long, though, a hole opens in the sky. Several futuristic people haul Casmir into their world and we learn that this is in fact a work of science fiction. Casmir is a clone, who has been put into a historical simulation so he can be studied. He escapes from his rescuers and heads off into a puzzling high-tech world, using his wits and natural charisma to survive. Before too long we learn that he was not the only clone to be made of the original person, and the story starts to become even more complicated.
Casmir's adventures are entertaining and unpredictable, and Purtill explores issues of determinism, leadership, and morality. The religious elements are fairly minimal. The question of free will is hotly contested throughout the novel. Further, Casmir's original incarnation was well-known for his moral rectitude and Catholic piety, and Casmir tries to live up to this standard.
2.5 out of 5
Purtill is a Catholic professor of philosophy, and a scholar of Tolkien and Lewis - you can learn more here.
This is a short book, but the story is not at all straightforward. Prince Casmir is a typical fantasy hero, and when we first meet him he is fighting to save a beautiful princess from a fire-breathing dragon. Before long, though, a hole opens in the sky. Several futuristic people haul Casmir into their world and we learn that this is in fact a work of science fiction. Casmir is a clone, who has been put into a historical simulation so he can be studied. He escapes from his rescuers and heads off into a puzzling high-tech world, using his wits and natural charisma to survive. Before too long we learn that he was not the only clone to be made of the original person, and the story starts to become even more complicated.
Casmir's adventures are entertaining and unpredictable, and Purtill explores issues of determinism, leadership, and morality. The religious elements are fairly minimal. The question of free will is hotly contested throughout the novel. Further, Casmir's original incarnation was well-known for his moral rectitude and Catholic piety, and Casmir tries to live up to this standard.
2.5 out of 5
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Book review - Sheepfarmer's Daughter
Sheepfarmer's Daughter is the first volume of Elizabeth Moon's fantasy epic The Deed of Paksenarrion. It was published in 1988.
Paksenarrion, known as Paks to her friends, is the 'sheepfarmer's daughter' of the title. When her father tries to marry her off to the pig farmer down the road, she runs away from home and to join Duke Phelan's mercenary company. (In Moon's world, companies from the northern regions are equal opportunity outfits and thus accept female recruits.) Paks is tall, strong, determined and attractive to boot so she's quickly accepted and set to drilling.
Moon spent some time in the U.S. Marine Corps, so her portrayal of an ordinary soldier's life is convincing - Paks is no D&D-style vixen clad in a metal bikini, but a realistic young woman. She learns to march and fight in formation, as well as learning a code of honor. She soon makes friends and enemies and becomes a valued member of the company. After experiencing some routine operations, Paks and her comrades are drawn into a series of increasingly dangerous and exciting adventures. While the mercenaries are honorable, they are pragmatists who fight for the highest bidder - but they find themselves caught up in a struggle against evil powers. It gradually becomes apparent that there is something special about Paks - her destiny is to be much more than a mercenary.
Moon's world contains magic and most of the creatures on Tolkien's evolutionary tree (as Neal Stephenson calls it) - elves, orcs, dwarves and gnomes. However, these races do not play a large role in the story, which is focused on humans and their mundane struggles over power in a late medieval setting. In this way I found it reminiscent of Fletcher Pratt's The Well of the Unicorn, or Gene Wolfe's The Devil in a Forest.
Moon is a Episcopalian whose faith is important to her, and there are some interesting religious elements in the story. Paks lives in a polytheistic culture - she respects the very real power of the gods, but is not particularly dedicated to or knowledgeable about them. The reader slowly becomes aware that this is not entirely a pagan world - some people worship legendary warriors, such as Gird or Falk, who are not regarded as gods, but as saints, servants of 'the High Lord.' It is eventually evident that Paks has a special relationship with St. Gird, though she knows almost nothing about him. One of Paks' friends is a devout Girdian, but her clumsy and ignorant attempts at proselytizing alienate potential converts. On another occasion, Paks is called to transcend her warrior culture and learn the meaning of mercy.
In another review, I mentioned the genre of 'police procedurals' - workaday accounts of ordinary people doing their jobs. Much of this book is the fantasy equivalent to that: not too flashy, but interesting nonetheless. Moon's writing is competent, though not outstanding. Her story is oddly compelling - the book didn't seem particularly exciting, but it kept me turning pages. I just wanted to find out what came next, and on a number of occasions stayed up late to do so! I'm looking forward to reading the next book in the series.
3.5 out of 5.
Paksenarrion, known as Paks to her friends, is the 'sheepfarmer's daughter' of the title. When her father tries to marry her off to the pig farmer down the road, she runs away from home and to join Duke Phelan's mercenary company. (In Moon's world, companies from the northern regions are equal opportunity outfits and thus accept female recruits.) Paks is tall, strong, determined and attractive to boot so she's quickly accepted and set to drilling.
Moon spent some time in the U.S. Marine Corps, so her portrayal of an ordinary soldier's life is convincing - Paks is no D&D-style vixen clad in a metal bikini, but a realistic young woman. She learns to march and fight in formation, as well as learning a code of honor. She soon makes friends and enemies and becomes a valued member of the company. After experiencing some routine operations, Paks and her comrades are drawn into a series of increasingly dangerous and exciting adventures. While the mercenaries are honorable, they are pragmatists who fight for the highest bidder - but they find themselves caught up in a struggle against evil powers. It gradually becomes apparent that there is something special about Paks - her destiny is to be much more than a mercenary.
Moon's world contains magic and most of the creatures on Tolkien's evolutionary tree (as Neal Stephenson calls it) - elves, orcs, dwarves and gnomes. However, these races do not play a large role in the story, which is focused on humans and their mundane struggles over power in a late medieval setting. In this way I found it reminiscent of Fletcher Pratt's The Well of the Unicorn, or Gene Wolfe's The Devil in a Forest.
Moon is a Episcopalian whose faith is important to her, and there are some interesting religious elements in the story. Paks lives in a polytheistic culture - she respects the very real power of the gods, but is not particularly dedicated to or knowledgeable about them. The reader slowly becomes aware that this is not entirely a pagan world - some people worship legendary warriors, such as Gird or Falk, who are not regarded as gods, but as saints, servants of 'the High Lord.' It is eventually evident that Paks has a special relationship with St. Gird, though she knows almost nothing about him. One of Paks' friends is a devout Girdian, but her clumsy and ignorant attempts at proselytizing alienate potential converts. On another occasion, Paks is called to transcend her warrior culture and learn the meaning of mercy.
In another review, I mentioned the genre of 'police procedurals' - workaday accounts of ordinary people doing their jobs. Much of this book is the fantasy equivalent to that: not too flashy, but interesting nonetheless. Moon's writing is competent, though not outstanding. Her story is oddly compelling - the book didn't seem particularly exciting, but it kept me turning pages. I just wanted to find out what came next, and on a number of occasions stayed up late to do so! I'm looking forward to reading the next book in the series.
3.5 out of 5.
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