In 1995, there was fighting in Bosnia, O.J. Simpson was on trial for murder, and a man named Morrie Schwartz was teaching his last class about life. It met on Tuesdays, and the student was sportswriter Mitch Albom. Twenty years before, Mitch had been Morrie’s student in sociology classes at Brandeis University, and now that Morrie was dying of ALS, he reconnected with his old teacher for a series of conversations.
Like many people, Mitch’s life after college hadn’t gone as planned, his musical career not panning out. After the early death of a beloved relative, his priorities shifted, and he found success in writing about sports. But when he saw Morrie being interviewed by Ted Koppel on Nightline (the first of three interviews), Mitch realized he had lost touch with someone important to him, and the wisdom of that man.
Morrie Schwartz had been an unusual man all along, and had dedicated much of his years to learning how to live his own life. He had developed a set of aphorisms that distilled this philosophy into understandable chunks. When his amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (Lou Gherig’s disease) began to take away his ability to engage in everyday activities, Morrie sent out his aphorisms into the world to those he thought might be interested. And they brought the world back to him, notably Ted Koppel, and through him, Mitch Albom.
As it happened, a newspaper strike left Mitch with some spare time to come visit his old professor, and he made more time when they reconnected. They decided that Mitch would come again and again on Tuesdays, a day that was special to them, and they would discuss subjects like death and marriage. The plan was for Mitch to write a book the proceeds of which would help pay for Morrie’s substantial medical bills.
This is that book, a bestseller that has spawned a TV movie and stage play, and changed many lives. A new edition has been released for the twentieth anniversary, with a new afterword catching up with what’s happened with Mr. Albom since the end of the book.
The book intersperses valuable lessons about life and related topics with flashbacks to their relationship in college and biographical information about Morrie that helps explain how he became the teacher so admired by so many people.
It’s very well written; the outcome is known from the beginning, so the journey is the important part. If what Morrie has to say sometimes seems trite or cliched, that’s because much of it is things we already knew, even if we ignore them in the hustle and pain of everyday existence.
My one caveat is that sometimes this sort of philosophy has been weaponized against people who are suffering systemic poverty and oppression to tell them that they shouldn’t fight back, but simply accept their lot.
The subject matter of death and dying may be a bit heavy for younger readers, but this book has been used in high school classes.
Recommended for people who haven’t gotten around to this book yet who are interested in philosophy and life lessons.
Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book from the publisher to facilitate this review. No other compensation was offered or requested.
Magazine Review: Haute Dish Spring 2016 edited by Debby Dathe
This pun-titled periodical is the thrice-yearly organ of Metropolitan State University in Saint Paul, Minnesota. It features the artistic (mostly photography) and literary talents of the students there. This issue is thin compared to most college literary magazines I’ve seen, and the written contributions short–the longest doesn’t quite make four pages.
Of the photographs, the one I enjoyed most is Debby Dathe’s “Apprehension”, showing a steep wooded staircase from a kitten’s point of view. Another good one is “Tulip” by Jeremiah Grafsgaard, a dew-sprinkled tulip blossom about to open; this is placed directly opposite the prose piece “Iselder” by Alyssa Kuglin, which is about recovering from trauma and has tulip imagery. The juxtaposition of these two pieces is easily the best editorial decision in the issue.
“The Student Body” by Debby Dathe (again!) struck a nerve with its tale of being chosen last in gym class. But my favorite of the prose pieces was “Evidence” by Gina Nelson, about a person being coached through how to make a screenshot,,,for disturbing reasons. There’s some poetry too, none of which stood out for me.
This magazine will be of most interest to students and alumni of MSU, and perhaps their family. But collectors who take the long view might consider these sorts of things as investments should one of the authors represented hit the big time so that their early student work becomes valuable.
Magazine Review: Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, January 1977 edited by Ellery Queen
Having enjoyed a recent issue of this magazine, I decided to root around for an older copy. This one was published in December 1976, but the cover date was a month ahead. Frederic Dannay (half of the “Ellery Queen” writing team) was still editor at this point, as he would be until 1981!
We open with “Jode’s Last Hunt” by Brian Garfield. Mr. Garfield is better known as the writer of Death Wish, which was turned into a hit movie starring Charles Bronson. This story, his first in EQMM, stars Sheriff Jode, who was a big hero in his Arizona county when he first started. But that was a couple of decades ago, and between competent policing and a naturally low crime rate, Jode hasn’t hit the headlines in years. When a former rodeo and movie star turns eco-terrorist, the near-retirement sheriff sees one last chance at fame. This one was collected in Great Tales of Mystery and Suspense in 1985.
“The Final Twist” by William Bankier is set at a small advertising firm where the boss is a bad person who managed to offend each of his workers individually and as a group. His employees decide he needs to die, but they want to make it look like suicide. How can they best use their skills to this end? This one was turned into an episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents in 1986.
1976 was the year of the Bicentennial, the 200th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. Thanks to that, there was a huge market for stories set during the American Revolution and 1776 in particular. Fitting in one last story on the theme for the year is “The Spirit of the ’76” by Lillian de la Torre. It details a bit of secret history when Benjamin Franklin’s grandson is kidnapped and Dr. Sam: Johnson is tapped to track the lad down, with the help of faithful Boswell, of course. The story perhaps is too eager to have Mr. Boswell praise the inventive American, especially given the political situation. This one was collected in The Exploits of Dr. Sam: Johnson, Detector in 1987.
“To Be Continued” by Barbara Callahan is about a young soap opera fan who discovers that she has an unexpected connection with one of the characters. There’s a surprisingly sympathetic portrayal of a gay man for the time period, but the treatment of mental illness may strike some readers poorly. I did not find any reprints of this one.
“C as in Crooked” by Lawrence Treat is a police procedural starring Detective Mitch Taylor. He’s assigned to look into a burglary involving a very rich and important man (which is why a homicide detective is working a burglary case.) Mitch quickly notices that the person in charge of security for that and several other robbed homes is an ex-police officer. Personal problems for both Mitch and his boss delay the investigation until the next morning, when it has become a murder case. Mitch cracks the case, but he may not get the credit. I did not find any reprints of this one.
“‘Twas the Plight Before Christmas” by Hershel Cozine is a poem parodying the famous A Visit from Saint Nicholas and has Santa Claus being murdered by Ebenezer Scrooge. Don’t worry, kids, there’s a happy ending.
There are two “Department of First Stories” (authors being professionally published for the first time) entries in this issue. “After the Storm” by L.G. Kerrigan is a short piece about a murder during a rainstorm. It’s vivid but slight. “A Pair of Gloves” by Richard E. Hutton is a chiller about a man trying to buy a Christmas present despite the presence of a downer street person who seems to have a grudge against the store. The ending is telegraphed. Neither seems to have been reprinted.
Four brief columns follow, two of book reviews (one blatantly pushing items for sale by the magazine’s publisher), one of movie reviews (The Seven-Per-Cent Solution and Marathon Man are highlighted) and a short interview with Dick Francis, former jockey and famous for his racing-related mysteries.
“With More Homage to Saki” by Isak Romun is a short tale of a wealthy gourmet who will do anything to keep his personal chef working for him, up to and including blackmail. But the chef has prepared his own delicious dilemma. Foodies will enjoy this one best, I think. Another I cannot find a reprint of.
Next up is from “The Department of Second Stories”, where EQMM also bought the author’s second effort. “The Thumbtack Puzzle” by Robert C. Schweik features Professor of Bibliography Paul Engle. During a talk the professor is giving, the narrator (his bookstore-owning friend) discovers that a visiting chemist’s work has been tampered with, and perhaps stolen. There’s only a handful of viable suspects, but which, and can it be determined with only a thumbtack as a clue? The solution hinges on the peculiarities of German typewriters. No reprint here, either.
“Raffles and the Shere Khan Pouch” by Barry Perowne has the gentleman thief (and devoted cricket player) and his sidekick Bunny visiting India. There they run into Rudyard Kipling and Madame Blavatsky while attempting to steal rubies. This is made more complicated by a British diplomatic pouch having gone missing, making the authorities more alert. There’s perhaps a bit too much coincidence for the story to be plausible, and the epilogue spells out who Kipling is for particularly obtuse readers, but Raffles is always a delight. This story was reprinted in Raffles of the M.C.C. in 1979.
“Please Don’t Help the Bear” by Ron Goulart is the sad tale of a Hollywood animator with a fur allergy and a penchant for another man’s wife. Mr. Goulart is perhaps better known for his science fiction, but mostly for his humor, though this time it’s gallows humor. The narrator is his “Adman” character who has a habit of meeting murderers and murder victims and never saving one. This story may or may not be reprinted in Adam and Eve on a Raft: Mystery Stories published in 2001.
“Etiquette for Dying” by Celia Fremlin concerns a woman whose social climber husband has taken ill at a dinner party whose hostess is well above their class. Is he just rudely drunk or is there something more sinister going on? This one is reprinted in A Lovely Day to Die and Other Stories (1984).
And finally, we have a story by prolific author Edward D. Hoch, “The Problem of the Christmas Steeple.” It’s a Dr. Sam Hawthorne story, as the retired physician remembers the winter of 1925. A parson is found stabbed to death in a steeple, the only suspect being the “gypsy” chief found in the steeple with him. But due to physical infirmity, that suspect could not have committed the murder. The treatment of “gypsies” may rankle modern readers, but it’s a story written in the 1970s about the 1920s. This story was reprinted in Diagnosis: Impossible: The Problems of Dr. Sam Hawthorne (1996).
There are also a couple of limericks by D.R. Bensen, typical of the genre.
This is overall a good issue, with some fine writers. You can try combing garage sales, but you might have better luck contacting other collectors.
And now, an audio adaptation of “The Problem of the Christmas Steeple”:
Right up front, I have to say that the title is the most annoying thing about this book. Did anyone ever use “rad” as an adjective unironically? That said, “radical” is not an unfair term to apply to many of the women whose short biographies are written in this volume. There are forty stories set around 30 “countries”, starting with Enheduanna of Mesopotamia, the first named author that we have records of, and wrapping around the globe to Emma Goldman, born in Russia, anarchist and advocate for worker’s rights.
This is a sequel to Rad American Women A-Z by the same creators; the greater scope allows them to have more variety. There are scientists, athletes and entertainers, politicians and even a princess! The book is written for middle-grade girls, but some of the subject matter may be difficult for more sensitive readers. (A couple of these biographies moved me to tears.) Many of the women covered I had heard of before, but a few were new to me.
The papercut illustrations by Miriam Klein Stahl give the book a distinctive, rough-hewn look; it also ties the appearance of the volume together better than a mix of photographs and paintings might have, as there are both historical and contemporary women covered.
This book also wears its politics on its sleeve, obvious in the selection of women to write about. Politically conservative parents might find it uncomfortable that Kasha Jacqueline Nagabasera (fights for gay rights in Uganda) and Buffy Sainte-Marie (anti-war activist) get full entries while such right-wing icons as Margaret Thatcher and Mother Teresa don’t even make the 250 honorable mentions in the back. The poem about “the stateless”, refugees, exiles and others torn from their homelands includes the line “No human being is illegal.”
As is common in collections of short biographies, only the highlights of any given woman’s life are included, and edited according to the author’s intent. Many of these women were controversial during their lifetimes, and some of them are still controversial now. A reader who takes a particular interest in one of the subjects would be well advised to seek out more complete biographies. I’ve previously reviewed biographies of King Hatshepsut http://www.skjam.com/2016/01/20/book-review-the-woman-who-would-be-king-hatshepsuts-rise-to-power-in-ancient-egypt/ and Queen Lili’uokalani http://www.skjam.com/2014/02/21/book-review-lost-kingdom-hawaiis-last-queen-the-sugar-kings-and-americas-first-imperial-adventure/ , for example.
I expect that this book will end up in a lot of elementary school libraries. I’d also recommend this volume to parents of middle-grade kids (yes, boys too, to go with their many books about famous men) with the caveat (or bonus!) that you might want to sit down with them to discuss some of the topics that will come up.
Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book from Blogging for Books for the purpose of writing this review. No other compensation was offered or requested.
Manga Review: Nichijou: My Ordinary Life (1) by Keiichi Arawa
The ordinary lives that all of us lead every day might perhaps be a succession of miracles.
This is the story of four ordinary high school girls living their ordinary everyday lives. Yukko, cheerful but not very bright; Mio, who’s of average intellect and has an artistic streak; the quiet and book-smart Mai; and Nano, who’s a robot with a wind-up key in her back. They all have their little quirks, and strange things happen often, but it’s all a part of ordinary life.
Nichijou (“Everyday”) is a shounen (boy’s) comedy manga that ran from 2006-2015, with an anime adaptation in 2011. There isn’t much of a narrative arc; most of the stories depict short scenes from the lives of one or more characters’ daily lives…strange as those events may be. There are some recurring themes, the most frequent of which is Nano’s desire to blend in with humans, and her frustration with her inventor/ward, eight year old mad scientist Professor Shinonome, who refuses to remove the key in her back.
In this first volume, we are introduced to the main characters as they head to school in the morning (Nano doesn’t quite make it.) Yukko tries to figure out why Mai is ignoring her. Nano has difficulties with new functions the Professor installed in her body. The pretentious Sasahara (drama club president) and hot-tempered Misato (kendo club member) try to decide what to do for the cultural festival.
There’s a school assembly led by Principal Shinonome (who may or may not be related), known for his “dad jokes” and the intensely shy Ms. Sakurai. Yukko witnesses a wrestling match between the principal and a deer–and can never tell anyone. Yukko and Mai play rock-paper-scissors. Yukko and Mio build a card house (this is a silent chapter.) Yukko fails to study for finals, and the questions seem indecipherable.
Yukko tries to finish her lunch despite dropping a key ingredient. Nano and the Professor have cake. Ms. Sakurai tries to enforce school rules on Sasahara. Mio belatedly remembers she drew an embarrassing picture in her notebook when Yukko tries to borrow it. Mio gets a part-time job that sucks. Yukko finally did her homework on time, but didn’t remember to bring it back to school. Nano suffers from over the top comedic reactions due to the Professor’s latest modifications.
The short pieces are usually funny, though some of them rely on Japanese conventions of comedy that might be opaque to newer readers of manga. The lack of focus and chapters where nothing much happens might also make this less appealing to some readers. Also, there’s some slapstick violence.
I especially like the card house chapter, which utilizes suspense and the previously established characterization to build to a silly conclusion.
The art in this first volume is less than stellar, and suffers greatly from “same face”–the artist improved greatly over the course of the series.
A word or two more about the anime: It does not present the sketches in the same order, allowing it to have a plot arc where Nano has to convince the Professor to let her attend school. It also has interspersed gags from the creator’s other series Helvetica Standard, and in the second half of the season, the closing credits feature a different song each time.
I recommend this series for fans of sketch comedy and magical realism.
And now, a music video based on scenes from the anime:
Magazine Review: Astounding Science-Fiction January 1946 edited by John W. Campbell, Jr.
Before Analog (see previous reviews), there was Astounding, the science fiction magazine that led the field for many years. Having gotten a copy of an issue from the pulp days, let’s take a look at what wonders lie within. Despite the cover date, the ads indicate it came out in early December 1945.
The lead and cover story is part one (of two) of “The Fairy Chessmen” by Lewis Padgett (a pseudonym for Henry Kuttner working with C.L. Moore.) It is roughly a century into the future, and the world is at war…again. After World War Two, the governments of Eurasia had crumbled, and reformed as the Falangists. They and America are the two superpowers and implacable enemies. Thanks to atom-bomb-proof shields and robot warfare, the war has stalemated for years.
Most Americans live deceptively peaceful lives in scattered communities on the surface, while the warmen toil in vast underground cities whose actual locations are closely guarded secrets. Low Chicago might be below the ruins of Old Chicago, or anywhere in the Midwest. Of course, in such conditions claustrophobia and other mental illnesses are a continuing concern, and it’s up to the Department of Psychometrics to keep the warmen in good mental health.
Which is why it’s concerning that Cameron, the head of the department, has been having hallucinations of eyeball doorknobs and talking clocks. He’s trying to keep it a secret, but his help is desperately needed by the War Department. It seems they have captured a scientific formula from the enemy, one that drives anyone who studies it mad (sometimes giving them strange powers in the process. For example, the levitating man who thinks he’s Muhammad’s corpse.)
There are time travel shenanigans involved, and one character seems determined to produce a specific future. The title comes from “fairy chess”, variants of the strategy game that use changed rules, such as a knight that can only capture backwards, or a 10×10 board. The formula changes the rules of physics, sometimes in mid-equation, and scientifically trained minds crack under the strain.
A nifty throwaway (probably) bit is the existence of “fairylands”, miniature cities with tiny robots that people play with ala the Sims. There’s also an amusing typo when one character claims he’s “half misogynist” when he means “misanthrope.”
Unfortunately, this novel is long out of print, so I have no idea how it ends. The cliffhanger is neat: “The edges of the spoon thickened, curled, spread into cold metallic lips. And kissed him.”
“N Day” by Philip Latham (pen name of R.S. Richardson) concerns an astronomer who discovers the sun is about to go nova. He tells the world, but is dismissed as a crackpot. (Had there been more time, someone would have checked his math and found him correct.) As a result, he finds his spine for the first time in decades.
“Veiled Island” by Emmett McDowell takes place on Venus (the pulp Venus of swamps and jungles.) A three-person anthropological team goes in search of the title island to investigate reports of a new variant of human. Apparently, unlike Earth, Venus just keeps producing new human variants out of the swamps which then climb up the ladder of civilization as they travel to the other side of the planet.
The Earthlings promptly crash-land, losing their clothing and supplies–they themselves have to start from scratch. While struggling to survive, they run into the new variant of humans they were looking for. A variant that seems destined to replace homo sapiens.
The sexism is pretty thick here, the action guy protagonist denigrates his female colleague for wanting to be treated as an equal, calling her a “tomboy” and the type who would have been a suffragette back in the day. (Apparently something like feminism happened in this future, but he’s not too keen on the results.) Over the course of the story, she comes to realize how awesome he is, and they are planning to get married (in the now considered barbaric Twentieth Century fashion) at the end.
The evolutionary science is suspect–emotionlessness is viewed as a huge evolutionary advantage that will allow the new species to outcompete other humans and replace them.
“A Matter of Length” by Ross Rocklynn (pen name of Ross Louis Rocklin) takes place in a far future with galactic travel. A stable mutation has created a new kind of human, the “double-brained” Hypnos, who have the ability to hypnotize ordinary humans. They are not physically distinguishable from other humans, but can be detected by “Sensitives.” Hypnos face severe prejudice, and there’s a war going on between societies that want to exterminate them and those that tolerate them.
All that is background. A Hypno named Joe has been captured by anti-Hypno forces, and was being shipped back to their planet for a show trial and execution when the ship went off-course and landed on a planet where time has gone wonky. There’s a paranoid belief among some of the crew that Joe somehow caused this, or is making them hallucinate this, despite the anti-mind control forcefield surrounding his cell. Eventually, the time wonkiness allows Joe to escape, and he rescues the two people on the ship who are not entirely anti-Hypno.
It turns out that Hypno powers have been vastly exaggerated as propaganda by the anti-Hypno forces; Joe never actually uses his mind control abilities during the course of the story. It’s the holding cell force field that gives him the temporary advantage he needs as it shields him from the time wonkiness for a while. Keitha, the Sensitive woman who tracked him down, is dismayed to learn that she’s next on the extermination list after all the Hypnos have been eliminated (as Sensitives are Hypno/ordinary human crossbreeds.)
Apparently, there are also longevity treatments in this future, as the captain of the anti-Hypno ship holds a grudge against the Hypnos for the death of his daughter nearly a century before, with the war starting later. (It’s a “failure to save” instance–a doctor who was secretly a Hypno couldn’t cure the daughter from a fatal disease, and when his secret was revealed, he was lynched for deliberately killing a human girl.)
“The Plants” by Murray Leinster takes place on a planet with only one form of life. Plants with flowers that follow the sun…or anything unusual that happens. Four men whose spaceship was sabotaged crash-land on the planet. Are they more in danger from the pirates that sabotaged the ship for its precious cargo…or from the plants? A story that has some creepy moments, and could have gone full on horror if the author wanted.
“Fine Feathers” by George O. Smith is the final fiction piece. It’s a science fiction retelling of the fable “The Bird with Borrowed Feathers” usually ascribed to Aesop. A ruthless businessman discovers a way to artificially boost his intelligence by energizing his brain. The process renders the user sterile (somehow) but since he wasn’t interested in having children, Wanniston considers that a small price.
Being superhumanly intelligent gives Wanniston a huge advantage over his fellow Earthmen, and he is soon the most powerful businessman on the planet. But he yearns for more, and when a suicide trap makes it untenable for Wanniston to stay on Earth, he decides to join Galactic civilization, where dwell people who have come to super-intelligence by eons of evolutionary processes. He keeps using the brain energizer, and is soon even more intelligent than the Galactic Ones.
Being logical beings, the Galactic Ones recognize Wan Nes Stan’s (as he now calls himself) superior intellect, and are willing to install him as their leader…as soon as his experience catches up to his intelligence in a few centuries. Wan Nes Stan tries to shortcut the process, only to discover his true limitations and destroy himself.
The story bookends with identical dialogue at the beginning and end, which would be effective if the language in those conversations wasn’t so stilted. It also uses the 10% of your brain gimmick (which admittedly was less debunked back then.)
John W. Campbell’s editorial “–but are we?” is prescient on the subject of nuclear proliferation though thankfully humanity has survived so far.
There are two science fact articles. “Hearing Aid” by George O. Smith is a very short piece on radio proximity fuses. “Electrical Yardsticks” by Earl Welch is about the international standards for the volt, ampere and ohm; how they were decided, and how they are maintained. Lots of math here, and possibly the technology is dated, but likely fascinating reading if you want to know more about electrical engineering.
I liked the Leinster piece best because of the thin line it walks between horror and SF; “The Fairy Chessmen” has some great imagery, but with only part one I can’t judge its full effectiveness.
Overall, an average issue, but well worth looking up for old-time science fiction fans.
Book Review: Kaiju: Lords of the Earth edited by Essel Pratt
Kaiju (“strange beast”) is primarily a subgenre of the monster movie that became codified in Japan. They’re mostly gigantic monsters that are nigh-unstoppable by conventional armaments, and run around destroying cities or fighting other giant monsters. The seeds of the story type were sown in the original King Kong movie, but it was Gojira (“Godzilla”) that codified it, and inspired most of the later examples.
This is a collection of sixteen short stories and poems on the theme of kaiju, all appearing here for the first time. The book opens with “Call of the Vailathi” by John Ledger, a poem that cautions that even when the kaiju is on your side, it is still a destructive force. …At least it has a rhyme structure, that’s good. The closing tale is “Unleashed in the East” as fracking releases a monster from the Java Sea, and two airline pilots must make a decision between saving themselves and saving the world.
I really enjoyed “The Wolf and the Rabbit” by Alice J. Black, in which a disaffected pub worker connects with another random survivor, and finds the will to do what must be done in this crisis. If the monster seems too easily dispatched, there are hints it wasn’t the only one.
Also good is “Frankentop” by Amanda M. Lyons, which is told from the perspective of an artificial intelligence that both wants to be loved, and to protect itself. Unfortunately, the latter is easier than the former. Internet references abound.
“I Awoke…Wutoomba!” by Roy C. Booth homages the Marvel monster comics of the late Fifties and early Sixties. Jack Lieiber, writer of fantastic fiction, travels to a South Seas island and runs into an assortment of stock characters, including the title monster. This one is mostly going to please Marvel fanboys who get all the in-jokes.
Most anthologies have a dud or two, but seldom to the level of “The Plastic Centipede” by R.T. Sirk. The monster itself is a cool idea, a giant centipede made of discarded mannequin parts and the vengeful spirits of a gangster’s victims. But spellchecker typos, misplaced commas, badly structured sentences and characterization by telling, not showing make this story come off like the first draft of a fanfic, rather than a professionally published story. This is clearly a failure of editing, as these banes of small press publishing should have been caught early on.
“A Day at the Racetrack” by Essel Pratt is also sub-par, as waste in a stock car racetrack’s inner pond turns animals giant-sized. Regional stereotypes are played for broad humor, as are potty jokes.
The rest are decent enough stories. Due to the very uneven quality, I would recommend this book only to kaiju fanatics or fans of a particular author for that one story.
Book Review: The Marsco Dissident by James A. Zarzana
It’s a Marsco world.
Much has changed by the last years of the 21st Century. The rot started to set in with the Abandonment Policy (euphemized as “Divestiture”) where countries with prosperous sections and not-so-prosperous bits split off the not-prosperous sectors as “another country now, not our responsibility” and shoved any citizens they didn’t want to keep for whatever reason into the new Unincorporated Zones. (It’s implied that even the United States did this on an unofficial basis.) The new rich countries became the Continental Powers, while the castoffs became PRIMS.
Meanwhile, an IT startup ambitiously named “Marsco” grew into a cross between Microsoft, the Union and Pacific, and United Fruit Company. Yes, it did eventually get to Mars, and its innovative finger disc cybernetic implants became the new status symbol. As part of its philanthropic aims, it became the primary benefactor of PRIMS, providing food rations, some medical care, etc.
A Luddite movement also grew, primarily among the PRIMS who found themselves shut out of the modern world, starving and ridden with cure-resistant diseases. It also found favor among some in the CP, and even associates of Marsco itself.
Eventually, the Continental Powers decided that Marsco was too powerful, and tried to nationalize it. This was a huge mistake as the megacorporation had designed all their computers, had its own armed forces and the advantage of operating from space. They even got PRIM armies on their side. If that wasn’t enough, the more violent strains of the Luddites took advantage of the chaos to destroy or infect any high technology they could reach.
Now, Marsco rules what’s left of Earth’s population, just as a temporary measure until the locals can get back on their feet. Except that it’s been a generation, and Marsco control doesn’t seem to be going away, and the Unincorporated Areas aren’t getting any better. Certain people are beginning to realize that Marsco isn’t the solution anymore, it’s the problem….
This book is the first in a series planned for four volumes, the “Marsco Saga.” It’s serious about the “saga” part; months or years often pass between segments of the story and I suspect by the end we’ll be reading about the grandchildren of the current characters. It’s been a while since I’ve read a science fiction book that fits more into the “future history” subgenre than action.
The dissident of the title is Dr. Walter Miller, formerly one of Marsco’s most brilliant engineers, but now on an extended sabbatical on his independent farm/research facility in what used to be the Sacramento Valley. The first few chapters concern a visit to him by his daughter, Professor Tessa Miller, who teaches at a Marsco academy. Her journey across Sac City to his grange has some interesting world-building, but then there’s no sign of a plot for a while.
Abruptly, we switch to a shuttle in the asteroid belt, and an entirely different set of characters for several chapters. Not all of the crew or passengers manage to survive the sudden emergence of plot.
And then, it’s months later in a different part of the asteroid belt, and an Independent colony views the arrival of a mysterious Marsco deep-space craft with justifiable suspicion. This part introduces another of our protagonists, Lieutenant Anthony “Zot” Grizzoti is one of the crew of the Gagarin, and Tessa’s ex. He’s a specialist in hibernation technology, and knows things he can’t reveal.
Some time later, we’re in the SoAm Continental Zone, as Father Stephen Cavanaugh goes to the camp of the Nexus, the most violent of the Luddite factions, in order to retrieve two boys they’d lured away from his school for PRIMS. A former student of his, Pete Rivers, is one of the Marsco Security personnel that escorts the priest to the area, but from there Cavanaugh must proceed on his own. This is the tensest part of the book and could stand on its own as a novella.
With most of the characters now introduced, the story moves forward.
The best part of the book is the world-building. Mr. Zarzana has done a lot of research, and worked out the details of the Marsco world. The book comes with a glossary (there are some mild spoilers in this section) due to all the specialized terminology and future slang. While some of the steps to reach this setting are dubious, it all hangs together well enough once it’s there.
However, a lot of the information is delivered in professorial lectures (Dr. Zarzana himself is a professor of English), which can get tedious. A little fun is had with the delivery by having a precocious child do some of the lectures to show off to adults. But too often, it comes across as “As you know, Bob….”
Many of the more interesting characters are in the book too little and some of them won’t be returning later. I found the Tessa/Zot romance bits tepid and was irritated every time it came up.
The primary active villain, Colonel Hawkins, is planning to avenge the Continental Powers’ defeat and is working with others who want to change the balance of power, and haven’t realized just how obsessed he is.
Marsco has a lot of classism (Marsco associates on top, Sids (people who trade with Marsco) in the middle, and PRIMS on the bottom and treated as barely human), but little racism–one of the associates suddenly breaking out racist slurs shocks his colleagues and is taken as an indicator of his actual age. Casual racism is more common among the Earth-bound.
There’s a lot of talk about rape, (including a possibly fake story about mind control rape) and a couple of attempted rapes onscreen . Prostitution is rife in the non-Marsco areas. There’s bursts of violence, some of it dire.
This book is self-published, and the latter half starts having spellchecker typos (“site” for “sight” several times) which suggests that with books this size, the proofreader should take the job in smaller chunks.
Overall…it’s a decent beginning, but not really satisfying on its own. A lot will depend on the next part expanding on the themes and subplots satisfactorily. Consider this if you like detailed world-building.
Disclaimer: I received a free copy from the author for the purpose of writing this review. No other compensation was involved or requested.
Magazine Review: The American Scholar Spring 1977 Edited by Joseph Epstein
The American Scholar is a quarterly production of the Phi Beta Kappa Society, published since 1932. Its primary focus is non-fiction essays, but it also features poetry, book reviews and since 2006 fiction. I happened across an old issue, was intrigued by one of the essay titles, and decided to review it. At the time it was published, I was in my sophomore year of high school, Jimmy Carter was president of the United States and James Dobson founded Focus on the Family.
Leading off the issue is “The Despairing Optimist” by René Dubos. It discusses the various international conferences held during the 1970s. The essay describes their well-meant aims and somewhat less than impressive results. Professor Dubos reckons that the best approach is to set world-wide goals but work out individual approaches to getting things done as different areas of the world need specific tactics to deal with their specific problems. “Think globally, act locally.” (Professor Dubos is said to be one of the possible originators of the motto when he was advising the Stockholm United Nations Conference on the Human Environment in 1972.)
“Observing the Sabbath” by Aristides (probably a pen name) is about the custom of Sunday as a day of rest, and how that was changing in the modern age. Less a span of enforced inactivity, and more a time of enjoying oneself as religion became less of a factor and just having some time off work became more of one.
“Freedom of Expression: Too Much of a Good Thing?” by John Sparrow talks about whether there should be laws against obscenity and pornography. He discusses various objections to these laws, and attempts to address them. On balance, Mr. Sparrow is in favor of having at least some laws on the subject, even if it’s difficult to precisely define obscenity without actually being subjected to it. Generally, he seems to favor “community standards” laws.
“The Limits of Ethnicity” by Howard F. Stein and Robert F. Hill addresses the then recent upswing in “ethnic pride” groups in the United States, and they note that at least part of the impetus appears to have come from the civil rights advances of African-American people. “Racism is a WASP problem, we Croatian-Americans or Italian-Americans have no culpability here–besides, we’re oppressed groups too.” The authors feared attempts to re-segregate neighborhoods by moving all the people from one ethnic heritage together, making those of other heritages uncomfortable.
One of the weaker essays is “The Tyranny of Harmony” by John P. Sisk. It starts out talking about the music of the spheres, which supposedly had perfect harmony, and eventually gets around to suggesting that an excessive love of harmony resulted in Nazi Germany. The logic is forced.
“Rest in Prose: The Art of the Obituary” is by William Haley, who was editor of the London Times for many years. He speaks of the obituary as a literary form, as history, and as an editorial comment on the worth of a person. He’s especially enamored of the obituaries published by the Times. Mr. Haley is a good writer and I enjoyed this essay.
“A Literature Against the Future” by James Stupple is the essay I bought the magazine for. He notes that in the 1970s science fiction had become the subject of serious university study. (Though he’s quick to point out that the colleges offering these courses tended to be second-rank.) His main premise is that SF isn’t really serious, important literature. Like many critics in the 1970s, he thought that real science showing that Mars is lifeless would kill the field, leaving only science fantasy. Indeed, he suggests that science fiction would quickly become no more relevant than Kabuki or country western. (Well, okay, maybe country western.) From our perspective in the future, it’s easy to see where Mr. Stupple went wrong. (The only other thing I could find by him in a Google search was half an essay on Ray Bradbury; he liked Bradbury’s stuff as fantasy.)
The final essay is “The Provincial Towns” by Barnett Singer, who wrote about his experiences the previous year touring the less-populated areas of France. He chronicles the dying of an old way of life, but then old ways of life are always dying. It’s rather sentimental, but he also notes that the young people seem okay with the changes.
The poetry is all that modern stuff I don’t care much for. The best of the lot is “On the Language Which Writes the Lecturer” by Jeanne Murray Walker. “English merely comments on the structure of another language concerning which nothing can be said.”
There are several book reviews, all of books I have never heard of. The most positive review is of The Autumn of the Patriarch by Gabriel Garcia Márquez. Sadly, despite the enthusiasm of the reviewer, it sounds dreadful. There are also a lot of book ads. Most of these are the barest snippets that seem to have been written by someone who doesn’t know anything about selling books.
The other kind of advertisement is for colleges–apparently the main audience was expected to be bright high school students looking for a place to get further education. Saint Olaf!
Last is Letters to the Editor, very erudite people criticizing essays and reviews (in one case, a book reviewer is allowed to respond.)
It’s an interesting assortment of subjects, most of which don’t feel dated. If you happen to spot a copy of this magazine at a garage sale, it’s worth a look. The American Scholar is still published, and you can read more recent essays at their website here: https://theamericanscholar.org/about-us/
Book Review: The Big Book of Sherlock Holmes Stories edited by Otto Penzler
I have a fondness for Sherlock Holmes, as I am sure the majority of my readers do. Unsurprisingly, there has been a ton of Holmes fanfiction over the years. Pastiches that try to capture the feel of Arthur Conan Doyle’s prose, parodies that make fun of the detective’s odd habits, and weirder works. This is a collection of such, many done professionally by famous authors. Thus it might be better described as a big book of Sherlock Holmes-related stories.
There’s an editorial introduction, and the book proper begins with an essay by Arthur Conan Doyle regarding how and why he created Sherlock Holmes, and why he killed the character off. (The essay being written before he brought the detective back.) Interestingly, he mentions that the “arc” of a dozen individual stories designed to be collected into a book was an innovation at the time–most of the magazine authors aiming for book publication went with serialized stories. Then there are two short pieces by Doyle being silly with his own creations.
There are over eighty stories all together, most quite short. They range in time from the very first Holmes parody “An Evening with Sherlock Holmes” by J.M. Barrie (an obnoxious know-it-all engages in dueling observation with Mr. Holmes) to the very recent “The Case of Death and Honey” by Neil Gaiman (Holmes goes to China to solve one last mystery.) Several stories crossover with other fictional characters (three times with jewel thief Raffles) or real life people. Arthur Conan Doyle appears several times, but others range from U.S. President William McKinley to John Merrick, the “Elephant Man.”
There are stories as well, about Sherlockians (fans of the stories)solving mysteries, the most unusual of which is “The Martian Crown Jewels” by Poul Anderson (a Martian detective investigates the theft of the title gems.)
The selection process heavily favored stories that are historically important or are by famous writers; this means that several of the tales are not of good quality. “Sherlock Holmes and the Dasher” by the normally excellent A.B. Cox is particularly dreadful. Most of the bad stories are extremely short. Some of the stories are frequently reprinted (there’s a section of them towards the front), while others are rare.
There’s period sexism and ethnic prejudice in some of the stories. “The Marriage of Sherlock Holmes” by Gregory Breitman is particularly bad on the sexism front for purposes of humor; it fell flat for me. Suicide appears more than once, although some of them are actually murders.
The volume concludes with “The Adventure of the Marked Man”by Stuart Palmer (a Cornish man receives death threats, but he hasn’t an enemy in the world…right?)
Most of the stories are good, but due to the uneven nature of this anthology, I recommend it primarily for dedicated Sherlock Holmes fans who will appreciate the rare tales. Others should use the library, and borrow the volume to read the stories by authors they like. (I especially recommend the “Modern Victorians” section for casual fans.)