A sprawling and successful SciFi epic in Hamilton's The Void Trilogy

From The Week of November 10th, 2013

From our actions to our futures, the right to choose is one of humanity's most coveted freedoms, one that countless souls have died to ensure and to preserve. This is as undeniable as it is peculiar. After all, humans, down through the bloody centuries of their history, have spent far more time bound by coercive bondage, political, economic, social, than they have spent free to act as they see fit. Kings and chieftains, sea captains and factory owners, popes and martyrs... They have all used their power and their authority to claim our fealty. And yet, perhaps this is the very reason why the freedom to choose is so prized. For when it is so rare to be afforded with the opportunity to choose one's destiny, regardless of the consequences, then it is savored like the finest wine. But what if we were all afforded this uncoerced right? What if we could act as we pleased no matter the costs to the others around us? Would it still seem wise to hail such a right? Peter F. Hamilton speculates in his engrossing epic.

It is the middle of the fourth millennia and humanity wants for nothing. In the 1,500 years since the creation of the first computer, we have traveled to other stars, encountered alien races both friendly and formidable, and discovered wondrous technologies that have, for most, banished the very notion of suffering. Powerful artificial intelligences ensure a safe and lawful Commonwealth of worlds, most of which have access to science and immortality, art and faith. After all, there is room for any sort of life in a civilization that has done away with the scarcity imposed by finite resources and limited power. In a universe where matter and energy are equally malleable, there is little one needs be denied.

And yet, encroaching upon this utopia is the strangest of threats. The void has persisted for nearly a million years, an incomprehensible region of distorted space within the galaxy in which the physical laws as we know them seem not to apply, in which the power of the mind appears to be superior to that of the physics of spacetime. This might be nothing more than an object of curiosity were it not for the fact that the Void occasionally undergoes expansion fazes, moments of explosive violence that consume the stars and planets in its path. Despite the best efforts of the galaxy's most powerful minds and weapons, the Void has proven to be impervious and indestructible which is why entire star systems have had to be evacuated ahead of its expansion in order not to condemn the lives of countless souls to its voraciousness.

Though the Void's purpose is unknown, many factions within human civilization believe they hold the answers. The most popular of these is the Living Dream, a vaguely Christian organization that believes the Void is a kind of heaven into which they can pass. But those who've studied the Void argue that passing into it helps to trigger its expansion fazes which is why they attempt to halt the pilgrimages to the Void. And yet, these imposts only seem to encourage the dreamers to try harder to achieve their aims, no matter the cost to the universe the Void is threatening to devour.

A series as inventive as it is expansive, The Void Trilogy is epic science fiction, a 700,000-word odyssey through worlds of science and death, politics and faith, yearning and fanaticism. Mr. Hamilton, who is no stranger to thinking big with his fiction, has built here on an existing universe, introducing into it an existential threat that his protagonists fear and his antagonists hunger for. Their clashes prove to be as memorable as they are violent, leaving no doubt that humanity's thirst for destruction, its willingness to use force, has not been softened by immortality.

In its technology and its politics, The Void Trilogy is deeply reminiscent of Iain Banks' famous Culture Series, a collection of works that tried to conceptualize a utopian future for humanity unburdened by the chains of scarcity, one in which everyone would be free to pursue their interests thanks to the willingness of machines and artificial intelligences to do the unglamorous labors that underpin civilization. Certainly, some of the ideas deployed here, are fanciful unto hilarity -- weapons capable of destroying planets and stars are, at times, unleashed almost gleefully --, but Mr. Hamilton manages to largely confine his flamboyant excesses, leaving the reader with an exploration of life utterly transformed from the paradigms with which we are so familiar. To step outside those prejudices, those realities, is a significant achievement in its own right. To then manifest such a utopian civilization in which we are all free to act as we choose, be who we choose, is a feat in truth.

It is a most difficult task to maintain the reader's interest over nearly 2,000 pages and for that we have Mr. Hamilton's host of characters to thank. From the silly to the serious, from the sociopathic to the egomaniacal, we are introduced to detectives and popes, martyrs and commoners, zealots and knowledge seekers, all of whom come together to form a vivid tapestry of conflict and power. And yet, these fine actors are also the epic's most troublesome element. For though most of our prime players have existed for more than a millennia, some even back to the early 21st century, none show any sign of the immense weariness that would naturally eventuate from living so many countless years. Mr. Hamilton makes virtually no attempt to lay out the social conventions that would have to arise to grapple with such unfathomable lifespans: multiple lives, multiple partners, multiple careers. In fact, one of his main characters has been a detective for more than a thousand years. Far from admirable, this seems almost perverse. This, along with a certain plasticness of minds and deeds, troubles the work.

And yet, these flaws do not ruin the epic. For like in life, it is easy to imagine darkness and degradation, to dream up the dystopias that some secret part inside all of us hungers for. It is much more difficult to create, to conceive of a world that is wholly new, and then to animate that world with vibrancy and vitality. The Void Trilogy may be far more interested in exploding stars and weaponized black holes than it is in the sociology and psychology, but it still checks all the boxes of good SciFi while being a rollicking good time. (4/5 Stars)

Moxyland by Lauren Beukes

From The Week of November 28, 2011

Freedom is, for humans, a slippery slope. We needn't look beyond the history of government to furnish ourselves with proof of this truth. What began as a means (democracy) of cohering individuals into a society that shared power among its constituents (a republic), instead of concentrating it in the hands of a despot (a monarchy), has morphed, over the centuries, into an institution whose elected leaders, in the name of ensuring the safety of their citizens, roll back individual freedoms until the state occupies every aspect of civilian life. Neither government, nor its agents, are evil; there are many honorable men and women who are attracted by public service. No, statism arises out of good intentions because we have not incentivized government to shed unnecessary power. We have allowed it, instead, to follow the inevitable path of all unchecked institutions, to take upon itself all the influence it can muster. Ms. Beukes has, here, slid down to the bottom of this slippery slope in an attempt to imagine the endgame of this dangerous accretion. What her imagination finds down there has the power to disturb.

The year is 2018 and South Africa, after enjoying a brief spell as a post-Apartheid, racially integrated democracy, has lapsed into a kind of corporate-infused security state in which the safety of the people has taken on paramount importance. In the name of battling terrorism in all its forms, from anarchism to fundamentalism, the government has deployed any number of technologies (a taser delivered via text messaging) and biologicals (modified viruses that force the afflicted to seek treatment at state-run health facilities) against its own citizens. Yes, innocents will be caught up in the wash, but isn't that a fair price to pay for ensuring the safety of the majority?

Into this world of corporate statism, in which advertising is ubiquitous and career success depends upon branding and loyalty, wade a handful of loosely affiliated protagonists who each, in their own way, resist the status quo while trying to advance in a hostile world. The aspiring photographer who agrees to be a corporate guinea pig for their genetic experiments, the corporate IT professional who hacks for her subversive friends, the young revolutionary trying to make the docile public sit up and take notice of the corruption around them, and the adrift slacker who refuses to listen... Driven by their hopes and dreams, they try to succeed, to fulfil themselves, in a world too distracted by its vices and its devices to realize that their freedoms are slipping away. It's little wonder then that life in this South Africa is an uphill climb towards anything like contentment.

Though Moxyland is, in the main, too impressed with itself, and though it manages, at times, to drag even though it is a brisk 300 pages, Ms. Beukes' tale of corporate power in the age of totalitarianism lays claim to one of the best endings to a Sci-Fi novel in some time. Narratively driven by four main characters, each of whom tell their stories in the first person, Moxyland is thematically in stride with the works of William Gibson and George Orwell, each of whom wrote masterfully about the dangers of corporations and governments respectively. Ms. Beukes has dusted off their 20th century concerns, updated them with some 21st century worries about the powers and distractions of social media, added a healthy splash of Clockwork Orange-style jargon and cooked up a work of quality science fiction. Yes, some of the concepts are a bit farfetched for 2018, and her attempts to create a new lingo fall somewhat flat, but I can forgive these sins when the author brings her story to such a powerful and appropriately merciless conclusion.

Alarmist? Yes. Fretful? Certainly. But Ms. Beukes knew, all along, where she was taking her readers. They will not be disappointed... (3/5 Stars)

The Quiet War by Paul McAuley

From The Week of September 19, 2011

Science fiction has always been a genre shaped by authors who required an outlet for their frustrations with the status quo. To escape the social, political, economic and gender restraints that shackled their societies, they fashioned new and dynamic futures that functioned as canvases for the innovative civilizations their minds imagined and their hands painted. This is how the genre has undergone numerous evolutions since its inception in the early 20th century without losing its relevance to the present moment. Whatever problems preoccupy us now, there are authors out there imagining the endgame and welding onto that framework a story that allows us to explore the issues of the day.

It should come as no surprise then to discover that the last decade of science fiction has been, to a substantial extent, preoccupied with the outcome of what now seems like inevitable environmental collapse. This is the pressing, eschatological issue of the day. We may well hold together enough tatters of our civilization to begin to rehabilitate our planet, but it seems unlikely in the extreme that we will manage to do this without social upheaval and, all its concordant human suffering, on a massive scale. So what will society look like when we emerge from this crisis into a world beyond fossil fuels? Will it maintain the freedoms we hold dear, or will it forsake them in light of a more effective way of combating all of life's problems? The Quiet War is a thoroughly entertaining exploration of one man's answer to this fundamental query.

In the 23rd century, humans have long since taken to the stars to escape an Earth devastated by anthropogenic climate change. Setting down roots on the moon, Mars and the moons of Saturn and Jupiter, these Outers, as they have come to be called, build new civilizations while they look back at a browned and grayed Earth upon which the remainder of beleaguered humanity labors to mend a broken planet. Where the technologically superior Outers are free to innovate and adapt to their new circumstances, gluing their communities together with a radical form of democratic socialism that binds everyone in common cause and shared toil, Earth-bound humanity reforms itself around religion and authoritarianism, both heavily influenced by the green policies they are forced to adopt in order to save themselves. Where the Outers diversify into numerous post-national states, the humans on Earth calcify into two major powers, the European Union and Greater Brazil, both of which appear to be exploitative oligarchies designed to funnel power and privilege into the hands of the omnipotent families that control them. As much as certain factions may wish otherwise, war between such opposing ideologies is all-but inevitable.

Though Earth is now enjoying a slow recovery, it has not come quick enough for North America which is now a devastated wasteland ruled by corrupted churches and prowled by powerful gangs. Out of this mess scrabbles two of the stories four protagonists, Macy Minnot and Cash Baker. The former is a biologist who escapes the ruins of Pittsburgh to work her trade in the Outer colonies. The latter is a fighter pilot from Texas who submits to surgical upgrades of his mind and his nervous system so that he can fly Greater Brazil's newest line of combat ships. Both represent the exploited underclass of Greater Brazilian society. Macy fights her enslavement, rebelling until she is beyond their influence. Cash, meanwhile, conforms, thrilled by his upgrades and the blessings they have granted him.

The Earthside humans could not have rehabilitated their planet without genetic engineering and it is this pursuit which empowers and enables the novel's other two protagonists. Sri Hong-Owen is a gene wizard, a leading scientist who also belongs to one of the ruling clans within Greater Brazilian society. As brilliant a political tactician as she is a biologist, she works to continue Earth's recovery while quietly agitating for a conflict with the Outers that she hopes will bring her face-to-face with her century's most brilliant geneticist. Eight, meanwhile, is the product of one of Sri's experiments, a genetically grown assassin who is deployed as a weapon against the Outers in the conflict that consumes the second half of the novel. Together, Sri and Eight represent both the science that has healed Earth and its costs. For the tide of public opinion on Earth has turned against such massive genetic manipulation, causing minds like Sri and people like Eight to be abhorrent to what Earthers view as the natural way of life.

At first, The Quiet War seems as though it will suffocate from its own inertia, but once Mr. McAuley's complex novel shudders into motion, it becomes a tense and tightly plotted rumination on the nature of politics and extremism. The Outers, democratic and individualistic, ought to be the heroes of the piece, preserving, in the face of the authoritarian threat from Earth, the traditions readers recognize and cherish. However, the author argues that just because a society worships freedom does not make it virtuous. On the contrary, the author contends that all political systems, no matter how liberal they are, are susceptible to subversion from internal extremists who, in their dissatisfaction with the status quo, are perfectly willing to sew widespread chaos in order to actualize their radicalism. Virtue, if it is to be found anywhere, must be located in a peace that transcends ideology, a peace that acknowledges everyone's right to act freely and to not have another's will imposed upon them; a lesson for both liberal and authoritarian states. This is a difficult point that Mr. McAuley manages to make vividly and forcefully.

Slow to ignite, but once it's burning this is quite the vivid and combative journey. I will certainly be scooping up the sequel. (4/5 Stars)

The Windup Girl by Paolo Bacigalupi

From The Week of October 17, 2010

If men like Mr. Bacigalupi occupy the vanguard of the Biopunk sub-genre of science fiction, then this new and promising brand of futuristic, dystopian, subversive fiction is in good hands. Evolved from Cyberpunk which preoccupied itself with the fusion of man and technology, Biopunk imagines a future dominated by genetic engineering of both people and the environment. But while Biopunk may have adopted a new focus, Cyberpunk's fatalistic tone lingers. For even though these genres often depict experiments gone wrong, they are not meant to be warnings. they are developments which cannot be halted. They are inevitabilities we must embrace and not shrink from. They are acknowledgements of our future.

The Windup Girl is set in a 23rd century Thailand ravaged by Global Warming and crop blight resulting from genetically modified food gone wrong. In this post-industrial world of ad hoc technologies and corrupted governments, inter-agency feuds are about as ubiquitous as the out-of-control viruses destroying people and their crops. But while humans can learn to settle their differences, the pests have no cure other than to quarantine and burn, not just the crops but the villages as well, cleansings which inflict grievous, emotional wounds upon their enforcers. The ministries of Trade and Environment are politically dominant for, in this world, there is nothing more important than maintaining the enormous levees which keep back the sea, this while nurturing a sluggish economy which provides jobs for the starving people and funds for the various reclamation projects that will ensure Thailand's survival.

The narrative thrust of the novel is divided between three main actors, each of whom represent one of Mr. Bacigalupi's themes. Lieutenant Kanya, a white-shirt -- an enforcer for the Environment ministry --, embodies the destructive chaos of the ministerial rivalry between Environment and Trade which is killing Thailand. Anderson Lake, a representative for one of the Western companies responsible for the blights, stands in for not only the soullessness of capitalistic greed, but the unwillingness of Western industry to take responsibility for its mistakes, much less to act morally with regard to the developing world. Emiko, the eponymous windup girl, a Japanese-manufactured genetic human, shines light on the complicated moral questions of slavery and servitude unleashed when we inevitably harness the power to engineer humanity. Other characters play prominent roles, representing the dogged pursuit of survival and industry in a world that is both advanced and primitive, but these three prime movers ensure that Mr. Bacigalupi's book is both entertaining and challenging.

There is a great deal of philosophy and social commentary buried in these pages. But it's a credit to the author that these more concrete elements are handled deftly and seamlessly. I never felt hammered over the head by Mr. Bacigalupi's politics. A slightly bloated but riveting tale of a struggle to survive free in a world sheathed in darkness. (4/5 Stars)