ZNAK SAGITE — više od fantastike — edicija, časopis, knjižara...

 
Thursday, August 05, 2010 at 8:26 AM
Posted by Leonid Taycher, software engineer
http://booksearch.blogspot.com/2010/08/books-of-world-stand-up-and-be-counted.html



When you are part of a company that is trying to digitize all the books in the world, the first question you often get is: "Just how many books are out there?"

Well, it all depends on what exactly you mean by a "book." We're not going to count what library scientists call "works," those elusive "distinct intellectual or artistic creations." It makes sense to consider all editions of "Hamlet" separately, as we would like to distinguish between -- and scan -- books containing, for example, different forewords and commentaries.

One definition of a book we find helpful inside Google when handling book metadata is a "tome," an idealized bound volume. A tome can have millions of copies (e.g. a particular edition of "Angels and Demons" by Dan Brown) or can exist in just one or two copies (such as an obscure master's thesis languishing in a university library). This is a convenient definition to work with, but it has drawbacks. For example, we count hardcover and paperback books produced from the same text twice, but treat several pamphlets bound together by a library as a single book.

Our definition is very close to what ISBNs (International Standard Book Numbers) are supposed to represent, so why can't we just count those? First, ISBNs (and their SBN precursors) have been around only since the mid 1960s, and were not widely adopted until the early-to-mid seventies. They also remain a mostly western phenomenon. So most books printed earlier, and those not intended for commercial distribution or printed in other regions of the world, have never been assigned an ISBN.

The other reason we can't rely on ISBNs alone is that ever since they became an accepted standard, they have been used in non-standard ways. They have sometimes been assigned to multiple books: we've seen anywhere from two to 1,500 books assigned the same ISBN. They are also often assigned to things other than books. Even though they are intended to represent "books and book-like products," unique ISBNs have been assigned to anything from CDs to bookmarks to t-shirts.

What about other well-known identifiers, for example those assigned by Library of Congress (Library of Congress Control Numbers) or OCLC (WorldCat accession numbers)? Rather than identifying books, these identify records that describe bibliographic entities. For example the bibliographic record for Lecture Notes in Mathematics (a monographic series with thousands of volumes) is assigned a single OCLC number. This makes sense when organizing library catalogs, but does not help us to count individual volumes. This practice also causes duplication: a particular book can be assigned one number when cataloged as part of a series or a set and another when cataloged alone. The duplication is further exacerbated by the difficulty of aggregating multiple library catalogs that use different cataloging rules. For example, a single Italian edition of "Angels and Demons" has been assigned no fewer than 5 OCLC numbers.

So what does Google do? We collect metadata from many providers (more than 150 and counting) that include libraries, WorldCat, national union catalogs and commercial providers. At the moment we have close to a billion unique raw records. We then further analyze these records to reduce the level of duplication within each provider, bringing us down to close to 600 million records.

Does this mean that there are 600 million unique books in the world? Hardly. There is still a lot of duplication within a single provider (e.g. libraries holding multiple distinct copies of a book) and among providers -- for example, we have 96 records from 46 providers for "Programming Perl, 3rd Edition". Twice every week we group all those records into "tome" clusters, taking into account nearly all attributes of each record.

When evaluating record similarity, not all attributes are created equal. For example, when two records contain the same ISBN this is a very strong (but not absolute) signal that they describe the same book, but if they contain different ISBNs, then they definitely describe different books. We trust OCLC and LCCN number similarity slightly less, both because of the inconsistencies noted above and because these numbers do not have checksums, so catalogers have a tendency to mistype them.

We put even less trust in the "free-form" attributes such as titles, author names and publisher names. For example, are "Lecture Notes in Computer Science, Volume 1234" and "Proceedings of the 4th international symposium on Logical Foundations of Computer Science" the same book? They are indeed, but there's no way for a computer to know that from titles alone. We have to deal with these differences between cataloging practices all the time.

We tend to rely on publisher names, as they are cataloged, even less. While publishers are very protective of their names, catalogers are much less so. Consider two records for "At the Mountains of Madness and Other Tales of Terror" by H.P. Lovecraft, published in 1971. One claims that the book it describes has been published by Ballantine Books, another that the publisher is Beagle Books. Is this one book or two? This is a mystery, since Beagle Books is not a known publisher. Only looking at the actual cover of the book will clear this up. The book is published by Ballantine as part of "A Beagle Horror Collection", which appears to have been mistakenly cataloged as a publisher name by a harried librarian. We also use publication years, volume numbers, and other information.

So after all is said and done, how many clusters does our algorithm come up with? The answer changes every time the computation is performed, as we accumulate more data and fine-tune the algorithm. The current number is around 210 million.

Is that a final number of books in the world? Not quite. We still have to exclude non-books such as microforms (8 million), audio recordings (4.5 million), videos (2 million), maps (another 2 million), t-shirts with ISBNs (about one thousand), turkey probes (1, added to a library catalog as an April Fools joke), and other items for which we receive catalog entries.

Counting only things that are printed and bound, we arrive at about 146 million. This is our best answer today. It will change as we get more data and become more adept at interpreting what we already have.

Our handling of serials is still imperfect. Serials cataloging practices vary widely across institutions. The volume descriptions are free-form and are often entered as an afterthought. For example, "volume 325, number 6", "no. 325 sec. 6", and "V325NO6" all describe the same bound volume. The same can be said for the vast holdings of the government documents in US libraries. At the moment we estimate that we know of 16 million bound serial and government document volumes. This number is likely to rise as our disambiguating algorithms become smarter.

After we exclude serials, we can finally count all the books in the world. There are 129,864,880 of them. At least until Sunday.
 

Enivejz, dodatna knjiga od koje se mnogo očekuje je (opet!!) ujedno i prvenac: Charles Yu i njegov žešće ishvaljen roman koji se očekuje u septembru, a SFSignal već tipuje na How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe kao na jedan od najboljih romana 2010.


http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/images/0307379205/ref=dp_image_0?ie=UTF8&n=283155&s=books



REVIEW SUMMARY: A brilliant first novel.

MY RATING:

BRIEF SYNOPSIS: Charles Yu (the character, not the author), is a resident of Universe 31, a time travel technition, who escapes into his time machine to avoid the present, and interacts with his time machine's operating system (TAMMY), whom he's in love with, and Ed, a paradoxical dog.

MY REVIEW:
PROS: A fantastic time travel story, one that blends fiction and reality, a sharp style of storytelling that blew my mind.
CONS: The Advanced copies had far better covers than the finalized version.
BOTTOM LINE: One of the best novels of 2010.

Never before have I read a book quite like this. Charles Yu's debut novel, How To Living Safely In A Science Fictional Universe, (following a collection of short stories, Third Class Superhero) is a wonderfully stunning, brilliant work of science fiction that goes to the heart of self-realization, happiness and connections.

The story follows a Charles Yu, a time travel technician who lives an isolated existence, saving people from themselves. His mother is caught in a time loop, and his father vanished years ago in a time machine of his own. Yu's existence is populated by himself, a paradoxical dog, his time machine's software, TAMMY, (whom he's somewhat in love with) and a distant, computerized boss, Phil, who doesn't realize that he's a computer program.

Yu has accomplished something remarkable in this book, blending science fiction universes with his own, alternative self's life, in a way, breaking past the bonds of the page and bringing the reader right into the action: the book that the reader is holding is actually part of the story, written by the author (or his alternate) as the action happens. This very surreal nature to his stories is something that is not new to anybody who has read Third Class Superhero, where stories utilized the text itself to help tell the story, and this ability is something that makes How To Live stand far out from the crowd when it comes to the science fiction literature genre.

Still, time travel is only a part of this story, a major element of the background, where Yu finds himself. The real story is one that is far simpler: a boy trying to find his father, someone who has been deeply affected by his childhood, and seeks to overcome those hurtles. At times, the book and character seems to wallow in a bit too much self pity, and anyone picking up the book thinking that it will be the next Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy will find a different book altogether.

Despite that, there is a strong story here about self realization, where Yu overcomes his depression. The time travel element serves in another element here in allowing Yu to discover what's wrong with himself, and his family, and by the end of the story comes together in a very smart fashion. The entirety of the story is part of Yu's journey to find his missing father, but along the way, discover himself as well.

Wrapped up in this book is Yu's excellent prose that pulls the words of the story into the story itself, as a sort of genre-introspective in and of itself. The past tense is literal in some instances of the story, and this book is a good example of the story coming to life, which makes everything that much more interesting. I cannot say that I've ever seen anything like this before, and it makes the read that much more interesting. In all likelihood, this is one of the most important books of the genre to be published this year, if not amongst the years that preceded it.

Simply, this is one of the absolute best time travel stories that I've ever read, even compared to works such as The Time Machine by H.G. Wells or the Doctor Who television series. Yu blends in a number of science fiction references, and even clauses in the English language that quite literally brings the physical framework of a story into the reality of the story. Ultimately, time travel stories come down to stories about free will and destiny, and often there is a level of disappointment with how the story plays out: the character embodying free will learns that he cannot escape destiny, or destiny turns out to be free will: Yu manages to navigate between the two, a bit, and creates a satisfying ending for himself (or his alternative self).

How To Live Safely is an exemplary example of storytelling in the genre, where story and characters come together to bring about a story of revelation, and one that is both thought provoking and touching. Yu, working through himself, paints a lonely, troubled existence, one with much baggage that he slowly works out over the course of the story. Here, time travel is the perfect medium for looking over past, rather than the future.

Elem, ovu knjigu bi ipak mogli i da zaobiđemo, a evo i zašto:

Quote

Charles Yu has built his world around a character he names, uh, Charles Yu. That should have been an early tip about his imagination, or lack thereof. Borrowing a portable environment straight from Dr. Who, Yu (the author) has us travel with Yu (the character) as he repairs time travel machines. But that cover story doesn't last for very long.

We then go through an entire angst filled, coming-of-age exploration of his life and his relationship with his dad, the inventor, and his mom, the near non-entity (though her later existence is spent in another non-entity loop). Don't worry about her, though, the entire construct around her existence added nothing to the book. The big problem with the book is that we go through this angst filled, etc. several times. He (Charles Yu the character) ages, but the story doesn't really change.

Yu (the author) adds a meta-fictional element to the story (surprise - author Charles Yu has protagonist Charles Yu write a book; several times!). He also makes sure to include all of the same old contradictions and paradoxes that could be created by time travel.

Add in page after page of self-referential (he does thank Douglas Hofstadter), recursive, repetitive travels through time (maybe). All this is there to disguise the fact that the entire book is about Charles Yu (the character) being totally fixated on where his father ended up after leaving the family so long ago.

The reader gets the science of the science fiction early on. The plot trick he (Charles Yu the author) used of having some residents of his world living in the real world while others live in the science fiction world is never developed to the extent the reader expects.

Neither of the two named Charles Yu seems to have a clue about how to get out of the loop the book has been in (for way too many pages). So, they contrive an oh-so-convenient event at the end that had to have entered every reader's mind long before Yu uses it. Then he (Charles Yu, the real author, not the meta-fiction author/character) totally changes writing style to deliver a benediction labeled Appendix A.

This is a book traveling in disguise. This is merely another boy grows into young man then adult and needs to revisit all this to try to understand his life, and that of his father. The science fiction is merely a thin, and, to be repetitive, very repetitive device to make the story seem different.

I hope Charles Yu (the real one) has gotten this story out of his system so he can turn his future efforts into something with more inventiveness and a real story in keeping with the world he creates. This was a game try for a debut novel.

Hmm, prevideo sam ovo tvoje napise... hvala, mada bih svakako sacekao jos neki review pre no sto bih narucio

Pa vidi, ovo ti definitivno nije jedini pomalo uzdržan rivju tog romana, nego eto, izabrala sam ga zato što je elokventan i prilično pronicljiv, ovaj tip očigledno zna šta hoće od svog es-efa. Ostalo su bili, onako, više kratki komentari samih čitalaca nego ozbiljni rivjui, ali opet, nekako svi vuku na istu stranu. S druge strane, najoduševljeniji rivju ove knjige na koji sam naišla je onaj Liptakov, na Signalu, ali Liptak mi se sad već pomalo čini kao poslovično oduševljen svime žanrovskim, plus što verujem da mu najprijatnije legne upravo nekakvo sci-fi space opera štivo.

Još jedan zanimljiv prvi roman dolazi od Joan Frances Turner i zove se Dust.

QuoteDust is told from the point of view of Jessie Anne Porter, a young woman who died in a brutal car accident and only to be reborn as a zombie. Through the adventures of Jessie, Turner explores the psychological, emotional and social implications of an alternative reality in which zombies are sentient creatures. Turner's zombies struggle with love and acceptance, anger and grief--allowing readers to face their own fears about life, death, and whatever comes after. Thoughtful, well-crafted and engaging, Dust adds a new dimension to everything you thought you knew about the living dead.

a evo i trejlera

William Gibson Q & A:




What's your favourite piece of technology, and how has it improved your life?

Whatever piece of word processing software I'm using. I never learned to touch-type.


When was the last time you used it, and what for?

To answer the previous question.


What additional features would you add if you could?

I'd like a Word-compatible processor optimised for writing novels, that takes up a minimum of storage space, thanks.

Do you think it will be obsolete in 10 years' time?

I imagine we'll be using some version of it as long as we continue to write at lengths greater than 140 characters.


What always frustrates you about technology in general?

The reality of malfunction, something I've quite rightly been criticised for neglecting to adequately depict in my fiction.


Is there any particular piece of technology that you have owned and hated?

The last fax I bothered to purchase, which cost virtually nothing, and was so loaded with features and options that I've yet to figure out how to send a fax. Fortunately I only need to send two or three a year, in which case I go to a nearby shop.


If you had one tip about getting the best out of new technology, what would it be?

To wait for at least the second iteration, but then I suppose it's no longer new. But I've always tended to be a slow adaptor. I'd rather watch other people use new things than use them myself.


Do you consider yourself to be a luddite or a nerd?

Neither. I try to be objective about technology. Agnostic, in a sense. Whatever personal opinions I form tend to have more to do with what we find to do with the new thing.


What's the most expensive piece of technology you've ever owned?

A Volkswagen Passat.


Mac or PC, and why?

Mac. I started with Apple, in a pre-Windows era when PCs seemed to involve more of a learning curve. But the fact that I'm yet to acquire so much as a single virus still seems a very good thing.

Do you still buy physical media such as CDs and DVDs, or do you download? What was your last purchase?
Both. I like physical browsing. It activates the hunter-gatherer module differently. I last bought Arcade Fire's new album, The Suburbs, via iTunes.


Robot butlers – a good idea or not?

I've never been very intrigued with the idea of robots, not even as a boy. Actually I've never been intrigued at all with the idea of a butler.


What piece of technology would you most like to own?

A Festo Air Penguin! It's an autonomously flying robotic penguin.



William Gibson's new novel, Zero History (Viking), is published on 2 September

(Inače, da ne bude kako Liptaka sad obilazim u širokom luku...)





Michael A. Burstein (via io9) highlights an interesting point when it comes to genre fiction in a post that looks at the politics of a writer and looking to the point where a reader is alienated. It's an interesting read, and I recommend checking out both his review, and the other review that he's referencing. The question arose though, that wasn't really addressed on a larger picture: When has science fiction been free from politics?

The very nature of the genre is one that can lend itself to political elements, on both the right and left sides of the house. Science Fiction is about the changing nature of humanity and people's work to understand the world around them, either in the future, past or present, but most of all, science fiction is influenced by the culture that helps to shepherd its creation. Looking over a couple of books that I've read and am somewhat more familiar with, there's a good selection of books that cover any number of larger political issues, either explicitly, or referentially.

The story in question in the original review is Fossil Figures, by Joyce Carol Oats in the anthology Stories, where a pair of brothers are made distinct: one is labeled a Demon Brother, and through the course of the story, it's fairly clear that he's a conservative politician, and by extension, it can be interpreted that Oats is deliberately labeling the Republican party as one of demons. (At times, I can't say that I disagree) Clearly, there is a political statement to be made here, and I felt that the distinction didn't feel out of place, but helped set the story in a modern, relatable setting that the reader will identify. This tends to fall along one of the more explicit references to modern politics, but other stories that have come out recently delve into some other hot-topic issues.

Karen Traviss's Wess'Har Wars deals heavily into environmental policy, from the first book, City of Pearl, where her main character, Shan Frankland, is set off on a mission to Cavanagh's Star, several hundred light years away, to locate a missing colony. As the story transpires, a weighty, pro-environmental message comes out, as Frankland comes across the Wess'har, an alien race that has very set opinions and beliefs on the sanctity of nature, and have gone through great lengths to protect Cavanagh's Star, to the point where they are willing to destroy entire races and species. This ties in closely with the futuristic world, and it is possibly one of the earlier books to be influenced on the modern attitudes of global climate change. Another author, Paolo Bacigalupi, has penned two novels (The often mentioned The Windup Girl and Ship Breaker), both of which deal with a closer time of climate change, and the influences that is has upon human society: there are major consequences. In Traviss's take, these consequences take the form of an alien race that's very dedicated towards rolling back some of humanity's mistakes with the climate: at our expense. Bacigalupi paints a very bleak picture of humanity as a sort of post-human individual, where people have adapted to literally eat rocks in The People of Sand and Slag.

Global Climate change is a major political issue at the moment, and I personally believe that this is the next major movement when it comes to science fiction themes and content, much as the Cold War between the United States and the Soviet Union sparked its own set of science fiction influences. Politically, Climate Change is one major issue, especially as its full effects aren't going to be instantaneous, but played out over a larger stretch of time. The future elements and implications associated with this have sparked the political world as people begin to think about how to plan ahead: the impacts on business and society are immense, and clearly, this is good trawling grounds for the near future. At the same time, a large number of people still harbor doubts about the concept, and in Bacigalupi's works, there's clearly a political message that will turn some people off, if a couple of the lower amazon.com ratings are anything to go by.

Going back a couple more years, a read through Philip Pullman's fantastic novel The Amber Spyglass, which took the story that had been set up by the two prior books in the series, and dropped an extremely thoughtful and controversial story within that addressed the nature of the fall of mankind and original sin. This largely anti-established religion story had been building throughout the His Dark Materials Trilogy since it the first book, but The Amber Spyglass was the fulfillment of most of those thoughts. Around the same time, J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter series was aggressively attacked by people who fervently believed that the story was aimed towards converting children towards the occult, something I've always been puzzled by, especially with the release of Pullman's series, which could do a lot more serious damage to the Church itself with some of the ideas that were within it. Pullman's recent book, The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ, where Pullman himself noted that there was a deliberate attempt to rouse people in the name of free speech. (His comments are here.) The American political right and the much of the religious community seem to work very well together, and when it comes to fiction, religious is likewise ripe for speculative fiction, given the similarities between searching for meaning and context in one's life, or in the future. Pullman's words have certainly put off readers, given the content, but at the same time, there's quite a story behind those words, which readers would do well to think about.

One of the most notable examples of science fiction and politics merging is through Robert Heinlein, and his numerous books. Two of my favorites are Starship Troopers and The Moon is a Harsh Mistress, both of which touch upon libertarian and the overall relationship towards government. The Moon is a Harsh Mistress struck me as being far more libertarian when I read it years ago (it's currently awaiting a re-read), with echoes of the American revolution within it, as the colonists on the moon sought to free themselves from a distant government, while Starship Troopers is notable for its anti-communist feelings, but also the responsibilities of people to be active in their society, contributing towards the good of the whole, rather than a government enforcing such values from the top down. These books came at a time when science fiction was heavily influenced by surrounding cultural occurrences, from the possibility of war to competing political ideologies.

The political elements of science fiction are generally shaped by the culture around it. I'll go back to the argument that I've generally made before, that art is created within a certain context, and that people will gain different appreciations for things at different points in time. Politics represent a major opportunity for authors because of the variety of underlying philosophies and outlooks that they tend to promote: conservative values look towards a smaller, less intrusive government, while liberal politics look to a more well structured and powerful central government, and the conflict between these two viewpoints has existed for as long as the country has been around. Doubtlessly, it will continue to rage on in the pages of science fiction novels as well.

THE FIRST MAJOR WORK IN NEARLY A DECADE BY ONE OF THE WORLD'S GREAT THINKERS—A MARVELOUSLY CONCISE BOOK WITH NEW ANSWERS TO THE ULTIMATE QUESTIONS OF LIFE

When and how did the universe begin? Why are we here? Why is there something rather than nothing? What is the nature of reality? Why are the laws of nature so finely tuned as to allow for the existence of beings like ourselves? And, finally, is the apparent "grand design" of our universe evidence of a benevolent creator who set things in motion—or does science offer another explanation?

The most fundamental questions about the origins of the universe and of life itself, once the province of philosophy, now occupy the territory where scientists, philosophers, and theologians meet—if only to disagree. In their new book, Stephen Hawking and Leonard Mlodinow present the most recent scientific thinking about the mysteries of the universe, in nontechnical language marked by both brilliance and simplicity.

In The Grand Design they explain that according to quantum theory, the cosmos does not have just a single existence or history, but rather that every possible history of the universe exists simultaneously. When applied to the universe as a whole, this idea calls into question the very notion of cause and effect. But the "top-down" approach to cosmology that Hawking and

Mlodinow describe would say that the fact that the past takes no definite form means that we create history by observing it, rather than that history creates us. The authors further explain that we ourselves are the product of quantum fluctuations in the very early universe, and show how quantum theory predicts the "multiverse"—the idea that ours is just one of many universes that appeared spontaneously out of nothing, each with different laws of nature.

Along the way Hawking and Mlodinow question the conventional concept of reality, posing a "model-dependent" theory of reality as the best we can hope to find. And they conclude with a riveting assessment of M-theory, an explanation of the laws governing us and our universe that is currently the only viable candidate for a complete "theory of everything." If confirmed, they write, it will be the unified theory that Einstein was looking for, and the ultimate triumph of human reason.

A succinct, startling, and lavishly illustrated guide to discoveries that are altering our understanding and threatening some of our most cherished belief systems, The Grand Design is a book that will inform—and provoke—like no other.

The Grand Desing

Ben Bova:


It seems that whenever somebody disagrees with my opinion, they bring up the fact that I write science fiction.

Last month Reinhold Schmieding, president and founder of Arthrex Inc., derided my columns about the future potential of gene therapy, calling it "wishful thinking" and "science fiction." This, from a person who runs a company that manufactures orthopedic surgical supplies, items of biomedical technology that just a few short years ago were (dare I say it?) science fiction.

You see, science fiction has a way of coming true. Not all of it, of course. But quite a bit. There isn't an aspect of our modern world that wasn't written about in science fiction decades, even generations ago.

Genetic engineering and gene therapy are as inevitable as television and artificial satellites, which were once to be found only in the pages of science-fiction stories. In a way, science fiction has helped to bring about all these modern wonders. Youngsters read science-fiction stories and get turned on by their sense of wonder. Wow! Maybe we could fly to Mars. Or cure cancer. Or produce a real cloak of invisibility. Or live for a thousand years.

And some of those young men and women go on to careers in science and technology and make those impossible things come true. Every astronaut who walked on the moon read science fiction as a teenager.

The first magazine devoted entirely to science fiction, "Amazing Stories," began publication in 1926. Its motto had this to say about science fiction: "Extravagant fiction today; cold fact tomorrow."

And so it is.

I've seen ideas I used in my own science-fiction stories become reality. One of my earliest novels, "The Dueling Machine" (published in 1969), laid out the basics of what is now called virtual reality: two people can engage in a deadly duel without coming to harm, because their duel is fought in an electronic simulator that gives each of the duelists the physical sensations — sights, sounds, even pain — of a reality that exists only inside a computer's program.

Great idea, even though I didn't recognize it at the time. But I was in good company. In 1946 Arthur C. Clarke invented the concept of the communications satellite — more than 10 years before the first artificial satellite went into orbit.

Considering the enormous economic impact of commsats, and how he had failed to even try to patent his idea, Clarke ruefully developed a lecture about the affair which he titled "How I Lost a Billion Dollars in my Spare Time."

Science fiction does come true.

In 1976 my novel "Millennium" was published. It dealt with the idea that a defense against ballistic missiles would break the stalemate between the United States and Soviet Russia and end the Cold War.

Former President Ronald Reagan's Strategic Defense Initiative (SDI), which the news media derided as "Star Wars," did just that. The mere fact that the U.S. was pursuing a missile-defense system broke the Cold War wide open and the Soviet Union collapsed — 10 years earlier than the date I had picked in my novel.

Alvin Toffler said that science fiction is the antidote for future shock. By this he meant that science fiction shows all the many possibilities of the future — the good, the bad, the exalting, the frightening.

Because science fiction deals with science and technology, two of the major driving forces in our society, science fiction can be very prophetic.

Not every science-fiction story accurately predicts the future, of course. But enough of them do so that if you read science fiction regularly there will be precious little that happens in your world that you didn't read about years beforehand.

If you think of the history of the human race as a vast migration across the eons of time, then the science-fiction writers are the scouts who go out ahead of the main body of people to look over the territory up ahead and send back reports on what we can expect.

That's far from wishful thinking. Mr. Schmieding should try reading some science fiction. It might help him to see what's coming next.



(Bova is the author of nearly 125 books, including "The Return," his latest futuristic novel. Bova's website address is www.benbova.com.)

FIREFLY

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0857660551/sfsi0c-20

"Down these mean streets a woman with a magic animal must go. You'll want to go there too. Lauren Beukes is Jeff Noon crossed with Raymond Chandler. I loved it, it's going to be huge." - Paul Cornell


"In Zoo City we have an unfamiliar land full of familiars, a broken Johannesburg of the near future peopled with damaged wonders. Proving her debut novel was no fluke, she writes better than I wish I could on my best day. If our words are bullets, Lauren Beukes is a marksman in a world of drunken machine-gunners, firing her ideas and images into us with a sly and deadly accuracy, wasting nothing, never missing. I'll follow her career as long as she's willing to write and I'm able to read." - Bill Willingham, creator of Fables


"Zoo City is a story of mysteries unfolding, and it is a story well told. But it's the world around the story, and the words that guide us through, that make it something more than simply marvellous. With her subtle, intimate descriptions of the roads we walk in this crazy city; with characters so deeply twisty you could lose a giant squid in their nebulous hidey holes, and with turns of phrase that are as likely to conjure up Rudyard Kipling, Brenda Fassie or Credo Mutwa as they are to invoke Japanese anime, Doctor Who or the crack in Johnny Cash's voice as he sings of his greatest loss, this canny authoress has brought real magic to everyday life in Jozi, in what I'm afraid I really am going to end off by describing as an act of unadulterated literature." - Matthew du Plessis, Times Live


"This book is a must read for lovers of South African fiction and urban fantasy alike. It is edgy and pacey and like a rollercoaster ride, it sweeps you up, spins you around, turns you upside down and dumps you out on the other end, heady and breathless and yearning for more." - Exclus1ves


"Lauren Beukes is an awfully smart writer. In Zoo City her characters ooze attitude, their dialogue is snappy, and her vivid imagery is both original and arresting. What's more, with an inspired blend of pop-culture savvy and fantasy (just enough, not too much), her depiction of Johannesburg, magical charms and all, feels eerily real... In fact, it feels as incomplete as real life. It's gritty, it's tangled and it's flawed; nothing is polished, nothing perfect. That's what makes Zoo City so disturbingly, hauntingly, uncompromisingly brilliant." - Jonno Cohen, MiniMonologues


"At times the witty and lyrical prose is sheer magic, the story captivating and the characters exotic, cruel and beautiful while the backdrop of Johannesburg seeths with hidden, lurking dangers around every corner, Zoo City is quite simply captivating." - SciFi & Fantasy Books


Product Description
WHERE NO ONE ELSE DARE VENTURE...

Zinzi has a Sloth on her back, a dirty online 419 scam habit – and a talent for finding lost things. But when her latest client, a little old lady, turns up dead and the cops confiscate her lastpaycheck, she's forced to take on her least favourite kind of job: missing persons

An astonishing second novel from the author of the highly-acclaimed Moxyland.

Elem, bruka & sramota, ovo mi bilo pred nosom a da nisam overila...  sad se već ne može da nađe uopšte, a sećam se oduševljenog rivjua od samog baje Kluta, ništa manje...

Compared to Gibson's immured gaze upon a world he could not make up stories to exit, Lauren Beukes skates through the foam filth of the present like a waterbug. Zoo City may dive a little too glamorously into terrible high-rises and worse tunnels, and its protagonist (who survives the tale she tells) may wear her deformations and her scars and her cabaret presentation of self like war ribbons, and the present tense of the tale's telling may try a little officiously to shove our faces in the fleuve of the overwhelming nows of an alternate-2011 urban South Africa (Johannesburg is hardly exited), but throughout the horrors and the almost synaesthesical complexities of the scenes unfolded we get a sense of vigour, some of it irrepressible. The main joy of Zoo City is the energy of the thing, that it doesn't stop for breath until it stops for good.

The alternate world transform is laid in so casually that one might be forgiven the assumption that Beukes thinks she is writing a fantasy, but she is not, or not quite. Round about 1998, we learn via one single easy-to-skip passage, a "New York film student" who had transformed himself into an Afghan warlord brings the Zoo Plague—or AAF, Acquired Aposymbiotic Familiarism—into the world. Suddenly (I guess world-wide) humans who have (I think) been found guilty of a crime (or maybe have found themselves guilty of some terrible deed or thought) develop AAF, finding themselves irretrievably bonded to an animal familiar whose shape and behaviour paraphrase their humans' nature and deeds. Any undue separation of human and familiar causes anguish to both. Given the fact that she namechecks Philip Pullman, we can assume that Beukes wishes us to understand that she is channelling the human-daemon partnering so brilliantly utilized in his Dark Materials trilogy. This is in fact so clear upon the page that it gives absolutely no offense; indeed, the opposite: it makes Zoo City, which sometimes has a bit of an versimilitude problem with its material—there are moments when its protagonist protests a bit too much about the grime and guts and venality of the world she weaves her way through shouting—into a genuinely conversant text.

The protagonist, whose name is Zinzi, tells her own story in the present tense, a practice Philip Pullman, writing in the Guardian for 18 September 2010, clearly disapproves of:

    "If I just relate now what's happening now," the writer seems to say, "I can't be held to account for it. It's the way things are. I'm just standing close to the action as it happens. I'm not editing or anything. It's really real."

Which may be a little harsh, though there are points in Zoo City when a conventional tensed paragraph of context-wonking wouldn't have exactly hurt; but Zinzi does usually carry the day along with her. The guilt, or crime, which has lumbered her with a Sloth, is that of not (I think) stopping the bullet that kills her brother. She now lives in Zoo City, a District 9 kind of slum where the "animalled" congregate; she has a psychic talent, that of finding things; she is suborned into looking for a missing teenage singer by a vividly unpleasant duo:

    I'm obviously not remotely okay, because somehow I missed these two in the crowd—a gangly angel with huge dark wings and a dapper man with a Maltese Poodle dyed a ludicrous orange to match the scarf at his neck. . . The Dog gave me a dull look from the end of its leash and thumps its tail half-heartedly. Say what you like about Sloths, but at least I didn't end up with a motorized toilet-brush. Or a Vulture, judging by the hideous bald head that bobbles up and down behind the woman's choulder, digging under its wing.

The duo subjects Zinzi to beatings and chases and raw encounters with at least one ex-lover; during these ordeals she unpacks an exceedingly unpleasant mystery, involving a crocodile familiar and what seems to be chthonic cannibalism which may be magic, or props.

But maybe the main character of the book is the city. The urban world Beukes describes discharges in the reader's face with something of the interjaculatory in your face insistence of worlds depicted by Paolo Bacigalupi or Ian McDonald, or for that matter Jerome Charyn when he is deep deep deep into Manhattan. Zoo City is exceedingly smart, though overwhelmed at times by plethora (a venal sin; Beukes's familiar is the Hummingbird that eats its body weight daily). The book bustles, it gives you a headache, it pulls at you like a new lover, it nags, it is not quiet, it is not dead yet, it feels proprioceptive to the world.

Long may she last.

Jah, ima tu malo i o Zero History...





It is dreadful to be here at last, here at the zero moment of history that lasts forever, now that Satan has finally touched down after aeons of fall, it is hell. It may be where William Gibson always knew his novels were heading, to that still point of the present case Zero History  inhabits, sucked deep into durance: for the present of the world, with no near future riff to bring a breath of air to the page, is pure hell. Zero History is fatally touched by the present. The title of the book—which buries its predecessors, Pattern Recognition (2003) and Spook Country  (2007), in cold ash—is cited, I think, only once in a tale so embedded in epiphanies of nada that reading it feels like staring at Medusa. A female Special Agent for the American Defense Criminal Investigation Service (DCIS)—estrangedly off-patch in a London so awash in evacuated sigils that it has become illegible—has been interviewing the most humanly appealing of the several protagonists of the new tale, whose name is Milgrim (c.f. Spook Country). Half-unwittingly, Milgrim has kept himself effectively invisible (which is to say illegible) for several years: no jobs, no taxes, no address, no expense accounts, no credit cards, no form, no sex, no walkabout, no pheromones. He has been in a kind of brown-out, and must now learn the furniture of 2010 (tweeting is a mystery to him, etc) as though he were a visitor to utopia. This, she says, means that he has attained "zero history." She is of course wrong: the visitor to utopia always finds a ticket to ride. Gibson means something else by zero, by history.

Even as late as 2010—65 years deeper into the progressive cultural amnesia whose dead-centre nadir point in 1945 the term "year zero" was coined to mark—it is pretty certain that Gibson means his title primarily to remind us of the state of Europe (specifically Berlin) at the end of World War Two: a point when it seemed that the long poisonous pogrom-sluiced suicide of twentieth century Europe had accomplished its goal, dooming its surviving inhabitants to spend the rest of their lives in a cenotaphic (which is to say evacuated) present tense, because there was no story left to tell. (The urge to reclaim history from amnesia—which sounds almost Marxist I guess: the Marx who saw that the end of exchange is pure nada—seems to me to fuel the late Tony Judt's magisterial Postwar: A History of Europe Since 1945 [2005].) So distressedly does Zero History inhabit a world that Tony Judt could not reclaim in a mere book—especially in the terrifyingly unstoried first 200 pages, before Gibson's better-mousetrap instincts guide him to a neatish conclusion evocative of all his earlier closings of the gate against intolerable apercu—it seems a miracle it was written at all.

In his NYRSF review of Pattern Recognition, Graham Sleight justly notes "the terse and verbless terms which Gibson reserves for epiphanic moments," quoting from a moment when Cayce Pollard is brought to a state of ecstatic information overload by the sight of some footage from the fragmented video Hubertus Bigend has directed her to trace down. The heart of this footage seems to be a single "out-of-focus shot of a bird in flight: a noun with no verbs." But those were happier days for Bigend, for Gibson, for the world: days when an absence of the verb of story might expose, for an instant, the pure gape of an unexchanged world. In Zero History, moments when verbs all but disappear create, I think, something different: not epiphany but (literally so in the passage I'm about to quote) taxidermy:

    To her right, in shadow, illuminated from within by an Edwardian museum fixture, stood a vitrine displaying taxidermy. Game birds, mostly; a pheasant, several quail, others she couldn't put a name to, all mounted as though caught in motion, crossing a sward of faded billiard-felt. . . . Behind them, anthropomorphically upright, forelimbs outstretched in the manner of a cartoon somnambulist, came a moth-eaten ferret.

In Pattern Recognition, a bird in flight, out of the frame, unentangled; in Zero History, a stuffed quail under glass. When the gape of the world is fixed, as it is here and in the long succession of despairing limnings of deathly embeddedness that follow this early passage, we have come to the dead silent still centre of a world that no longer remembers how to move, a world that can no longer be read. Zero History is not a story about the end of story; it is photograph of that death.

The story itself is obedient to this despair. Hubertus Bigend, mysterious potentiator of the previous volumes of this current trilogy, has no more personality this time round than his phosphorescent suit, which encloses him like a vitrine. His search for a stealth brand of clothing called the Hounds of Gabriel is ditheringly mundane compared to his earlier preeternatural urge to embrace/surround the bird no verb can pattern. Eventually the designer's identity is revealed—she withholds her name, but readers of Pattern Recognition will recognize her instantly: the readers of Zero History are permitted to make more sense of its moments of story than the inhabitants of zero history can—but this moment of traditional storytelling subsides instantly. Over and beyond Milgrim's attempts to parse himself, there is no story to drive the book, just as there is no near future any more to drive the world. There can be no true sequel to this dead stillness. Bigend, like Satan, has been left without a move to make. This is hell.

Zero History is full of intricate and rather marvelous descriptions of frisson-tasty bits of a world too close to grasp whole; and some hilarious moments; and an overwhelming knowledgability as regards clothing stuff. Its immersion in London is as spot-on and geographically exact as one expects of Gibson, whose figurings of the inner coigns of London have become, over the decades of his career, as inherently edificial as Iain Sinclair's. But this time round the utterands of London choke in their yarns like bugs in amber, for they are already deadish: for you cannot hear history when you are under glass. The death of history, being too much like life at this time, must have been terrifying to face. Nada is hell to describe. Zero History is as brave a book as its title demands of it.

Nešto za Micu... 




Scores
By John Clute
8 November 2010

Even had London burned down for good in 1940, as almost happened during the
Docklands firestorm of 7 September that did not, in our world, quite
conflagrate into chymical marriage like Dresden, 1940 would have already
been saved, if by saved we mean known. There may be no other single year in
world history-certainly no other single season-more intensely anticipated
(see below), more intensely studied in the present tense of unfolding events
(see below), and more intensely relived (see below) than the last months of
1940, that great season when Saint Paul's did not burn, not even during the
terrible rain of incendiaries at the end of December, the historical moment
Connie Willis focuses on in "Fire Watch" (1982), the first of her time
travel tales to invigilate this thronged passage in the story of the West.
Chastely and reverently, "Fire Watch" treats as unchangeable a series of
events already so densely told that to manipulate a jot or tittle of the
Memory Cathedral would seem blasphemous, for the heart of the Blitz is
precisely the way it happened. There is no theoretical Jonbar Point-unlike,
say, the moment when Abraham Lincoln is or is not assassinated-whose
enactment would not dishonour what actually came down: when a million life
events threatened to petrify in the glare: the lives of all who lived then
incinerating into dominos of fire: the medusa clatter of dominos toppling as
Hitler Wins, creating a world more terrible even than the stygian nightmare
foretold by Katharine Burdekin in Swastika Night (1937): but a
transmogrification that by all that is holy did not happen, which is one of
the miracles we have lived by in a bad century.

Willis is perfectly capable of doing postcard to the past when she can get
away with it-she is not hugely faithful to the abyssal back-lit fragments of
historical record that are all we retain of the time of the Black Death,
where Doomsday Book (1992), the next instalment in what one might call her
Oxford Historians sequence, is set; and when her Oxford gang of history
postgrads and docents from the middle of the twenty-first century swans back
to the 1880s in To Say Nothing of the Dog (1997), they arrive in an Edenic
England that was a nostalgic fiction then, and a lie now-and perhaps before
divagating into what's wrong and right about her vast new novel I should
jump my gun and say that Blackout/All Clear, one of whose intricately
welded, hugely drawn-out climaxes magically transects the events of "Fire
Watch," also honours the consensus of the veritable world. It is, in fact,
all about honouring that consensus.

Blackout/All Clear (Willis's publisher broke the slow, sometimes
infuriatingly seamless crescendo structure of this extremely long novel into
two volumes; my proof copy of the second volume boorishly describes it as a
"follow-up") is in fact a time travel story not about changing the world but
about saving the world; Blackout/All Clear (hence All Clear, because that is
what it is all about in the end) is as reverent for this world as Kim
Stanley Robinson's Galileo's Dream
<http://www.strangehorizons.com/2010/20100118/clute-c.shtml> . But before we
glance at All Clear in slightly more detail, I think we need to consider for
a moment what may have been Willis's greatest challenge in writing her huge
tale, which is the Memory Cathedral Problem: how does an author honour
consensus when so much is already known that honour is no longer an emotion
appropriate in general to the circumstances, but more centrally an
obligation to get it right? Aristotle may have said that fiction is truer
than history (anticipating by a mere few thousand years my own excited claim
that any Story is inherently non-mimetic), but it does seem that any tale
set in a period of history denser than the concinnity magnets of Story can
harmonize must be conceived as honouring a reversal of that proposition: for
the Blitz is truer than Story.

If this is true of any nonfantastic fiction set then, it is a principle far
more poignantly binding on an author of fantastika, where Story is
inherently exposed in all its workings (absolute Story being absolute
fantastika). A tale like Sarah Waters's The Night Watch (2006), which plays
delicately with forms of the supernatural whose incursion is unlikely to
change the story of the world, can incorporate a few shortcuts or errors
without much risk, but All Clear, being a time travel story driven for
almost 1100 pages by the anxiety (see below) that history might be/might
have already been changed by the bumbling incursion of the Oxford postgrads,
is hugely more vulnerable to scrutiny. And scrutinizing the text for signs
of alternative realities is exactly the task any reader familiar with time
travel tales, as almost all of Willis's readers will be, will take as having
been demanded by the author, on the assumption that what seems to be an
"error" in the tale will almost certainly serve as an exact marker that
another story of the world is sliding into view.

So, given the almost supernatural density of our knowledge of 1940, it's
clear Willis faced an extremely daunting challenge in ensuring that All
Clear meant what it said, within reasonable limits. So despite the fact that
it is a time travel story, I did not look for errors; though inevitably I
found a few, I didn't think the honour of the book-its obedience to the
world-depended upon absolute accuracy, nor were its weaknesses exposed by
mistakes: rather the reverse in fact. All the same, it's clear that the
irradiated density of our knowledge of 1940 must have been a challenge and a
burden. There's no point explicating here the complexity of access points we
are able to use in 2010 to get a sense of 1940. Among recent studies that do
that job for us, the best may be Juliet Gardiner's The Blitz: The British
Under Attack (2010) which magisterially exploits various archives, some of
them vast; makes narrative sense of this flood of stuff; closes with a ten
page bibliography that scratches the surface just deeply enough to evoke
chaos theory in the timid. But some of the historical record does need to be
mentioned here, as it shines an odd light on the extremely peculiar research
missions that Willis's modestly incompetent crew seem to have been assigned.
Without getting in harm's way (we will return to that astonishing directive
a bit later), their task is to insert themselves into and to report back on
ordinary life as it was lived just before and during the Blitz. Whether or
not these missions may seem implausibly low-key for a clearly very
expensive, cutting-edge project located at a point that SF writers and
readers almost certainly (not without cause) think of as Planetary Crisis
Time, there is another problem Willis must solve if she is going to honour
the time, as I have already said I think she has intended to. The problem,
of course, is the problem of the known.

One of the cast, Eileen, becomes a kind of nanny taking care of refugee
children in a stately home; another, Polly, becomes a shopgirl. Seriously
dislocated by "slippage"-all Willis's time travel stories seem to take off
from the fact that time travel does not actually work very well-a third
protagonist, whose name is sometimes Mike, sees much of southern England
from below. In due course, the three of them do observe quite a bit of the
life of the masses; their slow, sidling, sometimes palsied progress through
volume one in search of each other, a task bedevilled by slippages and
failures of portals back to 2060 to open when they should, gives Willis
plenty of opportunities to tell us what they've seen, observing at all times
(in order to honour the time) the historical record, which is to say she
must have herself confirmed in the historical record anything that might
have already been mentioned. And here's the rub. The problem with the first
half of All Clear is that the job Willis's cast has been sent back at
astronomical cost to accomplish was already done before they got there. What
they find out, we have already told them.

In 1937 two men-Charles Madge, who was deeply involved, as was his mentor W.
H. Auden, in 1930s Modernism-for-the-people; and Tom Harrisson, an extremely
acute and pragmatic sociologist-founded an organization called Mass
Observation (it still exists) whose goal was precisely to observe the
behaviour of "ordinary" folk in England at a time of growing anxiety about
the future; to measure and record the real life of the English people before
dread made them sick as war neared, the World War Two everyone in 1937
anticipated with depths of anxiety we hardly feel even now, fingernails
clawing at our own edge of things. Mass Observation was founded, in other
words, to save 1930s England for the future by learning it. To a surprising
degree, the project succeeded. Fifteen books of observations and findings
were published by the early 1940s, some of them widely distributed; in 2010
(half a century before our Carry On Boffin historians are sent back to the
same time to do the same job) the entire Mass Observation Archive at the
University of Sussex near Brighton is available to researchers. True, Mass
Observation may reflect a seriously unAmerican sub specie eternitatis
Scientific Romance perspective on the events of history; and Connie
Willis-though her main accomplishment has been a set of novels that do sound
in synopsis as though they were pure Scientific Romance-may not leave the
veriest secular/clerical trace of a Wellsian echo in the way she actually
tells story, and anyway I've no idea if she actually made use of Mass
Observation: but if she did read the books, or access the Archive, every sip
of knowledge from this resource must have been attar from a poison chalice:
because everything she could have learned would necessarily have added
essential detail to the honour she so clearly wished to pay England and the
period she so transparently loved: everything Mass Observation had already
recorded closed down upon her ability to manoeuvre, to unleash her cast to
behave like typical SF protagonists (which they surely do not) and find
stuff out. Willis, as she proves in every one of her 1100 pages of
honourable crochet-work, knows that they must not fabricate a novum out of
the prelapsarian bounty of the real recorded world that we deem holy, and in
the event they learn nothing that we don't already know: 1940 is not to be
alternated with.

There is a beauty of observance in this, what one does in a church when one
obeys the rules. This sense of a gradually unfolding litany did in the end
work a sea change on my own initially frustrated reading of the first half
of All Clear, the 500 pages of which only slowly confessed themselves,
through foggy spirals of story-stuff generated by the cast's unavailing
attempts to accomplish anything (see below), as comprising a great extended
exercise in obedience not novum. There were points, all the same, when it
might have helped to foreground the fact that nothing new could be allowed
in church, perhaps through a scene or two in which Oxford historians in 2060
are seen accessing research material already online half a century earlier
in the real world. But just as the hordes of Mass Observation observers make
no appearance in All Clear neither does-it is one instance out of many-The
London County Council Bomb Damage Maps 1939-1945 (London Topographical
Society and London Metropolitan Archives, 2005), an edition by Ann Saunders
of the 110 Ordinance Survey maps upon which, beginning in September 1940,
the London County Council Architect's Department recorded and made available
the specific location and degree of bomb damage inflicted throughout the
period of the Blitz and later. Willis, who plausibly consulted these hugely
detailed maps herself, might have profitably portrayed honcho boffin
Dunworthy using them to avoid boners in his attempts to work out exactly
where and when bombs fell in 1940, in order to instruct his students where
and when never to go: anywhere, that is, they might encounter danger,
anywhere the rough beast of history might slouch Godzilla-like across the
Channel, anywhere the real world, in its anguish, might need eyes to
witness.

Indeed, the least useful pages of All Clear are spent tracing its cast's
ultimately baulked attempts not to see anything, and it does take a while to
grasp the beauty of All Clear, the intense humility of its portrait of
London as her cast increasingly ignores Dunworthy's strictures, especially
in two superb, hugely extended setpieces: one devoted to the terrible first
bombing raid on 7 September; the second massively expanding on the events
first depicted in "Fire Watch" as Saint Paul's almost burns at the end of
December. Almost certainly some bad mistakes leak into the text (how else,
given the oceans of data she had to attempt to master); but I for one found
nothing to complain about. The main errors I noted myself were in fact
easily correctible: Willis seems to have consulted a contemporary map of the
London Underground, which seems to have led her to assume that the Victoria
and the Jubilee Lines, both constructed decades later, were there in 1940;
nurses bewilderingly tell patients their temperature in centigrade; and the
term "disinformation" seems not to have existed before 1955, the first year
it was used to describe false information created, usually by a government,
for purposes of deceit. But none of these slips opened any plausible gulf
into the alternate realities whose potential irruption haunts her cast. All
Clear is a song of London, a song of England, and she has gotten the song
right.

That the first volume of the huge tale is almost all recitative with no
arias may unfairly deter some readers (at points it came pretty close to
deterring me). It took some time to realize that-over and above the
exigencies of story-this recitative was actually the song of London clearing
its throat. But those exigencies were a burden. Hundreds of pages are spent
following the three main protagonists miss every possible connection in
their attempts to link up with each other, none of them realizing that these
failures are far from coincidental, for the first 700 pages of the story of
All Clear are an intercalated rat's nest of Appointments in Samarra tropes
where, as it seems, every attempt they make not to interfere with space-time
leads them towards places where they commit ever deeper damage. Time and
again they run from Death and meet Death smiling thanks. Or so they seem to
think. They are wrong.

The actual story of All Clear only begins to make much sense on page 311 of
the second volume, when Polly begins to realize what readers from 2010-who
have clearly read a lot more time travel stories than Willis's time
travelers-will have suspected for some time: that the Oxford Historians have
gotten it all back to front. They have feared that their forced presence in
1940, long after they were supposed to find their portals and vamoose back
up the time stream, has caused a fatal deterioration in the "entire
space-time continuum," whose Gaia-like struggle to maintain the continuity
of the world they have fatally compromised; that the Samarra dance they have
led is a sort of body English of the death-throes of our world, the world in
which Hitler loses the war. This is what Polly thinks she has understood
when finally she realizes that everything had conspired against them, from Theodore's refusal to leave the pantomime to the blocked streets which had kept them from getting here before he left this morning. It was as if the entire space-time continuum
had been engaged in an elaborate plot to keep them from reaching John
Bartholomew [the protagonist of "Fire Watch"]. Just as it had kept her and
Eileen from finding each other last autumn. "How all occasions do inform
against us," she thought.

The important thing here is that-after 700 pages of Feydeau-like story
teases that seemed to go nowhere, all conducted with the same
school-marmish, leadenly-light whimsy that scuppered To Say Nothing of the
Dog-we have finally been given a grammar to sort All Clear out. Polly may
still have it all back-to-front, but it is now only a matter of time before
she and her colleagues use this exposed grammar of story to unpack the
truth: that the "entire space-time continuum" has in fact been forcing them
to make precisely the interventions in the world of 1940 that they have been
trying to avoid; that instead of blasphemously thinning the "weight of the
world" until it caves in, their actions have comprised a series of tipping
points whose effect is to avoid the more likely prime reality, where Hitler
Wins. Once the cast understands this, light pours from the heavens, and the
novel ends in elation and Return.

The Appointments in Samarra have been with Life.

Galileo unburnt, London unburned: worlds to pray for.

Thanks, jeste za mene...
Ipak, moram da primetim da je i Clute malo ostario i smekšao...

Why I Write Reviews
November 23, 2010 — Niall

If it weren't for the existence of many fine writer-critics, I would sometimes be tempted to start believing that fiction writers just don't get reviewing. A case in point: a post by Jason Sanford titled, "Why we write literary reviews". It feels a little unfair to object to a post that concludes that reviewing is a valuable and worthwhile activity, but I can't let that "we" stand, because while I'm sure what Jason Sanford says is true for Jason Sanford, it's at best partially true for me; because I suspect the same is true for many other reviewers; and because the post as a whole traffics in assumptions about the nature of purpose and reviewing that I think undermine the whole enterprise.

To the point, in fact, where I could disagree with just about every sentence in the post that isn't purely factual. For instance, on negative reviews, Sanford writes: "I basically refuse to waste my time reviewing bad stories". The error here — beyond ignoring the fact that the decision, or assignment, to review is usually made before you know whether a story is good or bad — is to consider it a waste of time to review a bad story, when such a policy makes it impossible for a reader to form a full picture of Sanford's taste (which precludes them from accurately weighting his judgments), and helps to bias the public picture of the sf field away from reality (which does more than theoretical damage). Moreover, negative reviews are apparently easy to write because "When you read a bad story, the flaws almost beg for sarcastic comments and ridicule"; the mistake here is to assume that sarcastic comments and ridicule make for a good negative review, when the opposite is much more likely to be the case.

But the central frustration of Sanford's post is the assumed nature of the relationship between fiction and criticism, which colours everything else. I think it's clearest in the fifth of his six reasons for reviewing:

    A need to draw attention to the reviewer. This is another irritating reason to write a literary review. Reviewers who want attention should instead write their own stories, although that's also a lousy reason to write fiction. While there is nothing wrong with critiquing from your own point of view—indeed, that's hard to avoid because criticism and opinions are such personal affairs—reviewers should never forget that true criticism isn't about them alone. Yes, it is their reaction to the story. But the story also exists apart from them. Only a fool forgets that.

This characterisation of reviewing — as, ideally, a pure and ego-less activity performed by willing supplicants at the altar of fiction — seems, at best, naive. Obviously, showboating should be avoided, as in the case of negative reviews filled with cheap snark noted above. But, equally obviously, of course reviewers want attention; reviewing is an act of communication, it takes a certain amount of ego just to stand up and say your piece in public, and we want to know that our communication is valued. I want to know that my communication is useful — less in the sense of persuading people to pick up a book, since although that's always a pleasure it's a limited if not illusory power, and more in the sense of prompting further thought, of contributing to or generating a conversation.

More importantly, critiquing a story from your own point of view isn't just "hard to avoid", it's central to the entire project. Contra Sanford, I assert that "the story" does not exist apart from the reader, it exists in the interaction between the reader's mind and the words on the page — if short story club achieves nothing else, it demonstrates that! — and that communicating a personal aesthetic experience is a vital element of a successful review, perhaps the most vital element.

The most irritating sentence in the paragraph, however, is the third. "Reviewers who want attention should instead write their own stories." What's objectionable here is not just the too-common canard that reviewers are frustrated fiction writers; it's the suggestion that reviewers should want to write fiction, that fiction is in some undefined way inherently the superior activity, the true end-point of the urge to write, the only form of writing worthy of attention, that reviewing is but a stepping stone to that goal.

As I say, I'm happy to accept this is true for Sanford. It's not true for me. Because I assert that reading is an inherently creative act, I also assert that reviewing is a creative act — which is to say I assert that it is inherently a literary act, worthy of attention and consideration as such. The notion that a review has no value as an independent work is easily dismissed with reference to the work of someone like John Clute, but the more nuanced argument that a review is lesser because it cannot exist without a prompting work is also something of a red herring; fiction hardly emerges from a vacuum, after all. To the extent that all reviews, in transcribing the experience of the reviewer, necessarily re-tell and mis-tell their subject, they are productively creative. And the other side of this, of course, is that to the extent that all fiction is a response to things in the world, it is usefully critical. (Consider Farah Mendlesohn's definition of science fiction as "an argument with the universe" as a description of all fiction.) To cast reviewing as inherently a lesser activity than fiction because it is more obviously a secondary activity is, I suggest, to misunderstand the nature of both.

There's much more to disagree with in Sanford's post — the paragraph on "A need to pontificate" as a reason for reviewing could easily generate another post of this length — but almost all of it comes back to this view of the relative worth of the two activities. Even when Sanford is discussing "A need to expand the understanding of a story", his reasons for the desirability of doing so have to do almost entirely with its potential utility for fiction writers: "if I, as a reviewer, understand what made one novel special then perhaps my own fiction writings will take a giant step forward. Or perhaps new writers who read my review will apply this understanding to their own fiction." Perhaps indeed; but as a reason to write reviews, such a priority seems rather skewed. For my part, I can't improve on Gary K Wolfe: "One writes reviews because reviews are what one writes: they are essays about literature, and literature is worth writing essays about."

A couple of weeks ago, Jo Walton pointed out that there was once, and I think for one year only, a "Best Book Reviewer" Hugo category, and suggested reviving it. Most of the time I think this would be a bad idea: we have too many Hugo categories as it is. But posts like Sanford's make me wish it did exist, in the hope that it might make people think a bit more deeply about the art of criticism, and its value.

GREG BEAR'S HULL ZERO THREE

HULL ZERO THREE, by Greg Bear

@Gaff: znači, Greg Bear me fino upecao sa onim otvaranjem romana, a?  

(trebalo je da više pažnje obratim na ovaj trejler, nego na obećanja "blagog i sanjalačkog" prvog poglavlja... )


Dalje,  Gary K. Wolfe predstavlja Into the Media Web (Michael Moorcock) na Locus Online Reviews:

Quote
— posted Wednesday 27 October 2010 @ 5:36 pm PDT

I don't think anyone I know claims to have a good handle on the career of Michael Moorcock. With 70-odd novels in just about every genre he could find, scores of stories, novellas, and anthologies, rock albums, comics and graphic novels, fanzines, professional magazines (most notably New Worlds), reviews, essays, and for all I know auto repair manuals and recipes, he's surely among the most protean figures of recent English literature, let alone the last half-century of SF and fantasy. When Tachyon published The Best of Michael Moorcock last year, it was, as Paul Witcover said in his September 2009 review here, ''a hell of a title to live up to'' – and that was only the short fiction. Now, in Into the Media Web – what amounts to a non-fiction companion volume not only to that book but to Moorcock's entire career – his friend John Davey has assembled some 150 items covering a 52-year span (selected, he says, from four or five times as many), ranging from a teenage essay on Bret Harte to recent reviews of Thomas Pynchon and Walter Mosley and a 2009 obituary of Moorcock's friend James Cawthorn. Weighing in at more than 700 pages, with many fascinating photos and illustrations, it's a feast for readers and an invaluable resource for students or scholars of Moorcock, but they'll quickly find they have their work cut out for them: in his introduction, Davey raises the question of how to best organize this chaos of material and announces, ''In the end, a decision was taken to arrange the contents randomly.'' Since another decision was taken to provide no index, we're pretty much alone in the bazaar, left to stumble across pleasures and oddities on our own – a bit like wandering through Camden Market in London, or Portobello Road in the mid-1960s, which Moorcock describes in one of the most evocative photo-essays in the book (the photos are by Bryce Atwell).

Fortunately, the arrangement isn't uniformly random. There are clusters of low entropy in the book, such as a chronological sequence of 19 editorials, reviews, and essays from New Worlds – an indispensable resource for anyone seeking to understand what the New Wave was about, although some of the most important memoirs about the magazine are separate from this sequence, such as ''New Worlds: A Personal History'', written for Foundation in 1978 and expanded in 1981. Another invaluable sequence consists of seven introductions written for omnibus editions of the Eternal Champion megaseries, which very nearly encompasses Moorcock's life's work in fantastic literature (he reports having begun it when he was 17). In order to help us get our bearings for what comes later, the book opens with a long autobiographical essay (written for Contemporary Authors), then leads us into a complex mosaic ranging from introductions and notes that are scarcely a page long to substantial critical essays such as ''Patriotism and the Scientific Romance'' and two chapters from Wizardry and Wild Romance, including the famous ''Epic Pooh'' essay, with its provocative dismissal of Tolkien and the Inklings. Since many of these pieces were written as introductions, Moorcock more often comes across as a generous critic, celebrating the work of his friends Mervyn Peake, Andrea Dworkin, Angela Carter, and the much less-known Jack Trevor Story and revealing unexpected passions for writers like Eudora Welty, Henry Treece, and George Meredith, but he can be acerbic as well, as in the Pooh essay, or when he complains of ''the astonishing elevation of extremely poor writers, like Virginia Woolf or John Braine,'' or describes Zelazny's Lord of Light as ''self-indulgent, infantile, self-conscious, escapist, derivative fantasy fiction that lacks even the saving grace of Tolkien's relatively clean style.'' And the impatience with the timidity of SF in general, which seemed such a call to arms in the 1960s New Worlds editorials, has not flagged much in later years, as when he describes Heinlein's later ''serious'' novels as ''producing some of the most ludicrously unlikely people ever to appear in print.''

Davey has generally done a heroic and meticulous job, though it's clearly a true labor of love rather than of formal scholarship (at one point he mistakenly credits Moorcock as having coined the term ''speculative fiction'' in 1960, when it had been used by Heinlein nearly 20 years earlier). Though SF readers are likely to be most interested in those pieces which form a portrait of a crucial period in SF history during which Moorcock, arguably, was the central figure, Davey has also been careful to leaven the literary bits with a wildly eclectic selection of cultural pieces ranging from passionate attacks on the pornography industry to sharply observed essays on Elvis Presley or Tom Mix, to a defense of Los Angeles, to an excellent essay on the Rushdie affair, written on the occasion of Khomeini's death, that seems as timely now as when it was written in 1989 (though Moorcock remains disdainful of Rushdie's fiction, noting ''one is frequently put in a position of defending something or someone one can't stand''). These non-genre-related pieces add up to a far more complex and fascinating portrait of Moorcock as a writer and a ''post-war culture-ruffian,'' as Alan Moore describes him in his introduction, and lend the book a deep texture that makes for fascinating reading even for those of us who pretty much passed out of our Elric phase many years ago.

Čini mi se da će Zoo City biti jedan od onih romana koji su nominovani levo i desno ali bez značajnih rezultata po pitanju značajnijih nagrada. Što je šteta, zaista, pošto je ovo zaista genijalan roman, čak i za mene, koja baš i nisam ljubitelj new weird fazona.

Pored ovog gore citiranog pohvalnog rivjua iz Master Klut pera, rekla bih da je Zoo City fenomen kakvom ostali tek ima da nauče kako da pariraju; ZC nudi infrastrukturu zbog koje se jedan NW roman čita kao dokumentarac, a to ne polazi za rukom čak ni gosn Čajni.  Kao prvo, tu su fejk naučni radovi po pitanju simbiotizma ljudi i dodeljenih im životinja, tu su rezultati "naučnih istraživanja" o posledicama smrti simbiotskih životinja na njihove nesrećne ljudske vlasnike, tu su fejk intervjui i novinarska, medicinska i policijska istraživanja o simbiotizmu i afričkim ratnim žarištima, tu je ceo dijapazon (insajderima lako prepoznatljivih) pop-kulturnih referenci koje prozi daju autetničan šmek do te mere da će 50% rezultata pri guglanju potvrditi infrastrukturu. Sa takvom pozadinom, objašnjenja skoro da i nisu potrebna, pa ZC ulazi u takav realm samodovoljnosti da se dobar deo romana može prihvatiti i kao pop-kulturni vodič kroz JAR. Jednom to rečeno, fentezi realm ZC nije baš klasičan anglofoni roman, i duboko poigravanje lokalnom ikonografijom može da bude hendikep baš koliko i prednost, zavisno od konzumenta. U lokalnim okvirima, roman ima daleko manje impakta nego što bi se dalo za očekivati od romana koji se probio na svetsko tržište. Sreća pa je Angry Robot versatilan izdavač – prošle godine je organizovao konkurs za kratku priču sa temom iz Moxyland-a, prvog romana Lauren Beukes, i tri priče odabrane od strane samog autora našle su svoje mesto u ovoj knjizi. 

Elem, koga zanima detaljniji rivju romana, nek overi Gaffov blog.

Najpre da pomenem kako mi je ovaj roman od samog početka prizivao u sećanje jedno izuzetno domaće delo, a to se, zaista, meni retko kad dešava (mada pamtim da je u bezbroj prilika slučaj bio obrnut  ): reč je o romanu Mijane Novaković, Đavo & njegov sluga, a prizivan je u sećanje ne toliko zbog samog stila i sadržaja (mada je i toga bilo, ali tek kasnije u čitanju, i daleko suptilnije) koliko po izvesnoj produhovljenosti koja pleni svojim zrelim i iskrenim pristupom. U pitanju je prvenstveno karakterizacija, finese muško-ženskih odnosa i njihov uticaj na percepciju naratora, a onda i mudrost i pronicljivost po pitanjima lako prepoznatljive (mada ujedno i sasvim egzotične) svakodnevice, koju narator prikazuje sa utoliko većom produhovljenošću što je ista banalnija. To uopšte nije pitanje zanatske veštine, da se razumemo (oba romana su prvenci, mada se to nikada ne bi dalo pretpostaviti iz samog materijala), nego je pitanje isključivo talenta - sposobnosti opažanja, a onda i sposobnosti saopštavanja i razlučivanja bitnog od nebitnog.
 
Karen Lord je ovaj roman napisala 2008e i dobila je za njega prestižnu nagradu, a da ne bude zabune, već iduće godine je pokupila istu tu nagradu za svoj drugi roman, tako da zasigurno nije u pitanju nikakva slučajnost. Redemption in Indigo je prošle godine objavio Small Beer Press i trenutno je prilično zapažen po pitanju konkurencija za žanrovske nagrade, ali, pošto je u pitanju popriličan odmak od standardnih žanrovskih uradaka čak i unutar okvira magijskog realizma, ne bi trebalo tu očekivati nit' brda nit' doline. No svejedno, o ovom romanu se itekako priča, tako da sve to nije ni bitno.

O sadržaju, bez bitnog spojlera: roman prati mladu ženu imenom Pama, koja traži sklonište od bračnih nevolja pod roditeljskim krovom, a da pri tom niti roditeljima niti neudatoj sestri objasni razloge za tako drastičan čin. (Roman nudi prepričanu – tojest obrađenu & osavremenjenu – senegalsku narodnu pripovetku, pa se striktno patrijahalni okviri tu naprosto podrazumevaju, a to je upravo ono što priči daje izuzetan šarm i straobalnu podlogu za već pominjanu produhovljenost naracije.) Razlog toj Paminoj tajanstvenosti je procena kako bi retko ko istinski shvatio njenu muku, a patronizacija onog tako poznatog povlađivanja bez razumevanja i opravdanja (koje su svi roditelji, u svakoj kulturi, po pravilu spremni da sruče na svoj podmladak) bi samo pridodala njenoj muci, sa kojom ionako može da izađe na kraj jedino bekstvom. Pama je, naime, upala u klopku banalnog, trivijalnog života, čiju istinsku težinu može da shvati jedino paćenik u istom, pošto takav banalan i trivijalan život  po pravilu nudi svedocima sa strane (pa čak i samim roditeljima) ne samo uglačani sjaj vesele podnošljivosti, nego i otmenu veniru kobajagi zavidno srećnog života. Pama i njen muž su, naime, naizgled bili stvoreni jedno za drugo: Pama je oduvek bila poznata kao žena sa neprikosnovenim talentom za kuvanje, a Pamin muž je oduvek imao još širu reputaciju gurmana, a to je - u patrijahalnim očima mnogih, a pogotovo Paminih roditelja - bilo i jeste više nego dovoljno za savršen brak. Pama, stoga, niti je imala kome, niti je umela kako da objasni suptilnu razliku između proždrljivosti i gurmanluka, pa je spas našla u begu i ćutanju.

Do te tačke, priča je surovo savremena i realistična.

Onaj "drugi" deo leži u tradicionalnoj kulturološkoj dimenziji u kojoj ljudi žive pored djombija, natprirodnih i besmrtnih trikstera i šejpšiftera iz narodnih predanja, koji na sirote ljude uglavnom paze ali ujedno se i silno zabavljaju raznolikim prčkanjem u ljudske sudbine. A kako svi oni koji nad nečim bdiju neretko steknu i kvalitete onoga nad čime bdiju, djombiji tu nisu nikakav izuzetak, baš kao što nisu bili ni svi oni siroti grčko/rimski bogovi. I dok je sve ovo zapravo samo baza na koju se nadogradila narativna infrastruktura, pravi zaplet počinje onoga trena kada par djombija odluči da Pami pokloni moć koja pripada vrhovnom djombiju. U pitanju je, naravno, Indigo Lord, zato što mu je koža boje indiga, a moć koja je njemu ukradena je upravljanje haosom - vrhovna djombi moć spakovana i za te svrhe sakrivena u jednan bezvredan objekt kao što je... hm, pa, eto... kutlača, ne bi li tako ti djombi zaverenici naučili pameti svakog pojedinog aktera u ovoj fascinantno egzotičnog naraciji. I mada je Pama - po svojoj prirodi sklona da ili izbegava konfrontacije ili ih "rešava" bezbednim begom – itekako voljna da tu nesrećnu kutlaču vrati u ruke Indigo Lorda, oboje zapanjeno otkrivaju da je to ipak nemoguće, sve dok sama Pama iskreno ne poveruje kako je moć haosa zaista najsigurnija upravo u djombijevim indigo rukama.

Nažalost, Pamina skorašnja životna iskustva je pomalo sprečavaju u mišljenju da je bilo koji muškarac, pa makar i indigo djombi, zaista bogom dano oličenje ispravnosti, tako da njena sumnjičavost zapravo i dovodi do postojanja ovog romana – Indigo Lord, naime, mora Pamu ubediti kako je uistinu dostojan ma kakvog sitnog poverenja, a kamoli onoga koje upravlja haosom, i to je ujedno i krajnja svrha i cilj ovog romana.      

trejler je genijalno elokventan: Redemption in Indigo

Quote from: LiBeat on 13-02-2011, 12:28:03
Karen Lord je ovaj roman napisala 2008e i dobila je za njega prestižnu nagradu, a da ne bude zabune, već iduće godine je pokupila istu tu nagradu za svoj drugi roman, tako da zasigurno nije u pitanju nikakva slučajnost.

Uf! - rece poglavica.

Odustajem od dešifrovanja svih tvojih dvosmislenih opaski, to uglavnom zbog nedostatka vremena.

Ma nista dvosmisleno, samo, koliko ja znam, Redemption joj je prvi i i jedini roman, objavljen 2010 i dobila je 2011 William Craford (valda se tako pise) nagradu koja se, opet valjda, dodeljuje za najbolji debut.

A ovo samo evociram Karla Maja bez ikakvog razloga.

Quote from: Melkor on 13-02-2011, 13:00:47
Ma nista dvosmisleno, samo, koliko ja znam, Redemption joj je prvi i i jedini roman, objavljen 2010 i dobila je 2011 William Craford (valda se tako pise) nagradu koja se, opet valjda, dodeljuje za najbolji debut.

A ovo samo evociram Karla Maja bez ikakvog razloga.

Pa, ne znam za to što pominješ.

Znam da je dobila Frenk Kolimor nagradu za Indigo 2008e i za The Best of all Possible Worlds 2009te. A za tu nagradu kažem da je "prestižna" barem zbog toga što su u pitanju značajni novčani iznosi za Barbados, tako da se ipak radi o nagradi koja ima velikog uticaja na karijeru debitanta. Jer, stipu ti tamo neke povelje i sva ta ostala sranja za "slavu" - jedino kad autor dobije neku kintu, ima nekakve šanse da batali "dnevni posao" i posveti se ozbiljno pisanju. U tom smislu kažem da je nagrada "prestižna".

Sad si me naterala da guglam. Tu nagradu je dobila za rukopise. Dobro, zamalo da ispadnem glup u drustvu

Inace, nisam siguran da je taj finansijski deo najbitniji, skimovao sam neki njen intervju i ispade da su joj taj, jos uvek nenagradjeni, rukopis odbili 4 puta. Dobijanje nagrade ju je ipak pomerilo u, urednicima, vidljiviju orbitu.

Ma, uozbilji se, Melkore; ovo je društvo u kom više niko ne može da ispadne glup. 

Pa, nagrada koja se dodeljuje rukopisima (whoa, evo sad i asocijacije na još jednog ovde pominjanog pisca ) je, po meni, najvrednija od sviju nagrada, pošto autor od nje ima najviše koristi. Svet je pun glupavih knjiga, a poznata imena ionako sama sebe prodaju, pa je zaista najbitnije svrnuti pažnju na rukopise.

Ali ovu knjiu bi trebalo najpre pročitati, jer tek onda sve kontroverze legnu na dodeljena mesta.

Evo, sa'cu, samo da zavrsim poslednjeg M.Banksa.

kakav sad M. Banks, koji to M. Banks? 

Ovaj:

Eto, sad ti mene teraš da guglam...  Ijan.
i, kakav je?

Pa nisi morala, slika je i link   Odlican kao i uvek, samo se treba izboriti sa kolicinom teksta. HC ima preko 600 strana!

Jel' on pisao "Fabriku osa?" Čuči u magacinu, mogao bih prionuti na to, ako valja.

Kod nas su objavljena dva njegova rana romana Fabrika osa i Hod po staklu.
Fabrika osa je debitantski roman, veoma dobar. Hod po staklu zanimljiv, ali ništa posebno.
Čovek piše paralelno nešto što bi se moglo smatrati slipstrimom i nešto što je čist SF. Jedno od toga potpisuje sa M. u sredini, ali nikad ne znam šta.
Prve knjige su mu bile normalne debljine, ali se ugledao na ove fantastičare, pa su mu romani sve deblji i deblji i prestao sam da ga čitam.

10 Literary Novels for Genre Readers

Every so often a debate breaks out across the blogosphere about the comparative merits of literary versus genre literature, usually sparked by some comment advocating one of the two with some supercilious tone. The topic brings out heated rhetoric, often times boiling down to one's personal views on the shape of fiction as a whole. One thing is for sure, the debate is unsettled.

There need not be a chasm between movements, however, as genre and literary fiction can be quite complementary to one another. Certainly no one aspect of literature can lay claim to a higher standard of quality. While literary fiction can be a window into the human condition, it can also be pretentious and overbearing. Genre fiction can be full of inspiring ideas but it can also be wooden and derivative. The opportunity for a book to be crap isn't limited by the bookstore shelf it lands on.

There are plenty of guides to gateway books for literary readers to discover SF/F, but very few to introduce primarily genre readers to literary works they would find enjoyable. And so, in the spirit of reconciliation, I've compiled this short list of books that fill the gap between speculative and so called realistic fiction. It is by no means comprehensive but should serve as a decent introduction for genre readers to see how the other half lives.



1. Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov
Nabokov is infamous for his 1955 novel Lolita but his masterwork may have been the hilarious and daring Pale Fire. In it, John Shade writes the eponymous 999 line poem over the last twenty days of his life only to have it stolen and commented upon by his crazy neighbor Charles Kinbote. The latter twists the tale suggested by the poem to fit some imaginary narrative about Shade's homeland of Zembla, to which Kinbote believes himself to be ruler. A combination of poetry and narrative, commentary and satire, Nabokov's brilliant craftsmanship blends with plenty of fantastic elements to make this a novel worth the genre reader's time.


2. The Crying of Lot 49 by Thomas Pynchon
While this book doesn't indimidate with its size, it's barely a novella, Pynchon packs in detail that makes The Crying of Lot 49 more than the sum of it's parts. We follow Oedipa Maas as she attempts to settle the estate of an ex-boyfriend after his death. What she winds up pursuing is a centuries-old, secret underground postal service. Oedipa's brushes with the shady Tristero lead her further and further down a rabbit hole of paranoia that leaves her, and our, heads spinning. For those who may be interested in Pynchon's work but don't want to plunge into the massive and difficult Gravity's Rainbow, Lot 49 gives more than a little taste of what's on offer.


3. Crash by J. G. Ballard
Ballard is a name not unfamiliar to genre readers. His contributions to the cyberpunk movement and his general flare for the speculative have led many to classify some of his stories as soft SF. Crash is a novel that borders on the dystopian, dealing as it does with the transformation of people into psychosexual thrill-seekers. The book's sensationalist overtones served as example to later shock literartis such as Brett Easton Ellis and Chuck Palahniuk.


4. Zombie by Joyce Carol Oates
Oates is an author who routinely jumps fences into areas outside the mainstream. Based on the life of Jeffery Dahmer, Zombie follows the gruesome Quentin P. as he attempts to construct a zombie out of an unsuspecting young man, seeking essentially to rewire him as a sex slave. The novel won a Bram Stoker Award in 1995.


5. The Wasp Factory by Iain Banks
Add and M and Iain Banks transforms from literary novelist to hard SF author and creator of The Culture series. And as with Banks' genre work, The Wasp Factory is a tight thriller. We follow the antics of Frank Cauldhame as he examines the world around him through ritual animal sacrifice. Frank is plagued by the spector of his older brother Eric, a criminal psychotic recently escaped and bearing down on Frank and his father. Controversial for it's depiction of animal cruelty, The Wasp Factor is nonetheless an exciting if gruesome read.


6. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon
Perhaps the only Pulitzer Prize winner ever to deal with the comics industry, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay deals with the eponymous duo's creation of The Escapist, an anti-fascist comic book hero, during World War II. The two deal with the emotional toll of the holocaust from the point of view of Jewish creatives, reflecting the real struggles of ethnic and immigrant illustrators in the 30's and 40's as they were unable to get work in other fields. Chabon's genre awareness makes this a great gateway book for SF/F and comics fans to get their feet wet in the literary genre.


7. Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy
A far cry from the plaintive westerns of McMurtry, McCarthy delivered what one reviewer describes as " a slap in the face" to modern audiences who are cut off from the brutal reality of the old west. Controversial for its ultra-violent depictions, we follow a teenage runaway known as "the kid" as he joins a group of indian scalp hunters. McCarthy has a penchant for extremely powerful narratives that affect the reader in emotionally vulnerable areas. His boderline SF novel The Road also strikes this cord, the struggle for morality amongst the nihilistic, the battle for life against inhospitable nature.


8. Underworld by Don DeLillo
Written in a tone dubbed super-omniscience, DeLillo's acclaimed novel is a series of vignettes and story fragments, framing the cold war in a dream-like composite of American culture. Jackie Gleason, J Edgar Hoover, and Frank Sinatra sit in the stands of the Giants-Dodgers game, fielding a home run as they learn of the first Russian nuclear missile test. From the seeds of this prologue we filter out into wider America, as well as a memorable stint in a Soviet hospital, and the lessons of the cold war are filtered through the people we meet. A difficult book to be certain, but one worth unraveling and unique in its story telling style.


9. The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood
Plenty of discussion has already gone into pondering Atwood's place in genre. To some, she is a fantasist, plain and simple. To others, she uses SF/F tropes to bring some wonder to a decidedly literary sensibility. Regardless, The Blind Assassin gets too little attention from either camp. Ostensibly a realistic tale with a science fiction story layered beneath, the book follows the life of Iris Chase as she recalls it from the vantage of old age. The interthreaded SF novel gradually comes to mirror the happenings in the novel proper, casting doubt upon its meaning and authorship. Winner of the 2000 Booker Prize, The Blind Assassin is a unique blend of SF and literary fiction.


10. Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace
One of the most confounding and controversial novels in recent times, Infinite Jest stands as the swansong of DFW's novel writing career and a monument to the late writers genious. Equally capable of holding open your mind and your door, this sweeping dystopia takes place in a world where time itself is subsidized. Most events take place in the Year of the Depend Adult Undergarment, and the majority of the plot revolves around finding the master copy of the film entitled Infinite Jest, an entertainment so compelling, people who watch it have no other earthly desires than to keep watching it. Wallace's fiction can be challenging and none more so than this, not quite as obfuscated as Pynchon but substantially more scattered than Philip K. Dick.

Izgleda da se moram pomiriti sa činjenicom kako su trilogije odavno postale najpopularniji i najprofitabilniji format žanrovske proze. Naravno, mirenje s tom činjenicom ne mora imati negativne posledice, ali ipak, neretko ih ima, bar u onoj meri u kojoj pozitivan rivju jednog naslova u trilogiji ima uticaja na sveokupni utisak o istoj. Trilogije, po pravilu, startuju sa veoma dobrim prvim delom – prvi deo ima tu privilegiju da ponudi svežu ideju, zanimljiv pristup, kompleksan world-building, vizionarske ekstrapolacije (bar kad je u pitanju hardSF pristup), zdrave temelje žanrovske estetike i obilnu količinu entuzijazma, uglavnom serviranu u obećavajućem zapletu i velikim očekivanjima povodom samog raspleta, dok ostali delovi uglavnom preživaju iste te krupnjaste zalogaje. Ukratko, čak i sasvim osrednje trilogije mogu da vas relativno lako "kupe" u prvom romanu, da bi vas "izgubile" tek na kraju drugog, nakon čega ostajete u zanimljivoj poziciji garantovanog potrošača i trećeg dela, makar samo da vidite "ima li kakvog boljitka". To je, možda, i temelj samog "fenomena trilogija" – ako vam se iole dopadne prvi roman, velike su šanse da ćete podleći toj čitalačkoj inerciji. Otud i moje ustezanje da bilo koji prvenac u trilogijama preterano hvalim, tretirajući ga kao da je samostalan; ne bi trebalo zaboraviti da on to, ipak, nije. Uz tu ogradu, fer je priznati kako je Directive 51 ispunio sve uslove koje očekujem da ispuni upravo vrlo dobra žanrovska proza. Naravno da su ti uslovi bazirani isključivo na ličnim preferencama, kako žanrovskim tako i literarnim, i naravno da se odnose samo na prvi roman trilogije; poučena iskustvom žanrovskih trilogija poput Kardovog Endera ili Vatsovih Riftera (ili Matrix trilogijom, tek da se vidi kako ni drugi mediji nisu imuni na trilogijsku boljku), rekla bih da jedna lasta ipak ne nosi celo proleće, sve i ako joj priznamo da je glasnik istog.

Što se mene tiče, post-apokaliptični deo SFa mi je uvek bio najimpresivniji od svih prepoznatljivih žanrovskih pravaca, tako da mi dobar deo "naj" liste pokrivaju upravo naslovi iz tog domena. Naravno, to je donekle rezultat i preferisanja takozvanog "tvrdog SF-a" kao jasno definisanog žanrovskog domena koji konsenzusom stavlja ekstrapolaciju kao neophodnost višeg reda nad samim eskapizmom, ili, prostije rečeno, "hardSF" vidim kao žanrovski domen u kom je svako proizvoljno lupetanje drastično ograničeno, Gospod nek' je hvaljen na malim darovima. A unutar tog domena, upravo mi je post-apokaliptični pristup nekako najortodoksniji u stvaranju alternativnog sveta na bazi striktne ekstrapolacije, to kako po svom shvatanju vremenske i karakterne dinamike, tako i po neprelaženju delikatne empirijske granice pri stvaranju varijabilnih elemenata. Govoriti o smaku sveta ipak podrazumeva minimum suspenzije neverice, jer kako da se istinski uživim u katastrofu globalnih razmera, ako mi je predočena  u očigledno detinjastom kontekstu, od strane neubedljivog (čitaj – očigledno inferiornog) naratora? U tom smislu, Direktiva 51 ispunjava osnovni uslov koji obavezno postavljam svakoj interpretaciji globalne kataklizme: da li je nešto takvo uopšte moguće?

Post-apokaliptična žanrovska proza za koju smatram da je uspešno položila taj ispit može se nabrojati na prste jedne ruke, onako nasumce: Vidalov "Kalki", Mekartijev "Put", Nivenov "Luciferov čekić", Milerov "Kantikulum, Brinov "Poštar", pa donekle i Matisonov "Ja sam Legenda", mada samo kao uspomena iz eskapizmu naklonjenog detinjstva. Osim Kalkija, navedeni romani se ne bave odviše  detaljnom analizom samih uzroka apokalipse – štaviše, neki od pomenutih romana ih namerno ostavljaju nepoznatima - nego se više osvrću na same posledice, opisujući tako alternativni post-apokaliptični svet koji je neretko drastično vremenski udaljen od samog "dana D". To je donekle i razumljivo, ako se ima na umu kako pedanterija ubedljivog prikazivanja globalne kataklizme zahteva ne samo pozamašno obrazovanje samog autora, nego i njegovih čitalaca, a u podilaženju toj famoznoj potonjoj kategoriji na snazi je konsenzus baziran na drkavom principu jednostavnosti. Prostije rečeno - manje zahtevna proza ima proporcionalno više šanse da dosegne širi segment populacije, a romani se ipak pišu da ih što više ljudi kupi, zar ne? To je toliko hladna jednačina da je i ja moram da poštujem, sve i ako je prezirem. Zato je i sam Vidal dobro pazio da ne pretrpa radnju tehničkim specifikacijama globalnog trovanja populacije, nego je istu prezentovao tek posredno, kroz sporedne tačke gledišta koje nisu aktivno učestvovale u samom procesu, pa tako nisu ni bile obavezne da nas narativno dave tim konkretno detaljima.

Direktiva 51 je roman koji svesno odbija da hoda linijom manjeg otpora; roman ne samo precizno detaljiše šta je urađeno, nego u velikoj meri pokazuje i kako je to urađeno. U Direktivi 51, globalnu kataklizmu ljudi donose sami sebi, i to ne iz mržnje za celokupno čovečanstvo, nego iz čiste ljubavi za samu planetu. Ideja koja ih ujedinjuje i vodi nije ideja eliminacije ljudske vrste kao u Kalkiju, nego je usmerena na uništavanje samo one tehnologije koja nezaustavljivo truje čovekov okoliš. To je ideja koja polazi od čvrste pretpostavke da će čovečanstvo duhovno (a kasnije i materijalno) profitirati iz kolapsa "negativne" tehnologije onog trena kada se vrati na tehnološki nivo 19tog veka – doslovno, kada se vrati u (sada nam tako drevno) vreme parnjača i organske poljoprivrede, pre sviju velikih pošasti modernog doba, oličenih u pesticidima, nuklearnoj tehnologiji i genetskoj manipulaciji. Naravno, u pitanju je bazična ideja nekadašnjih hipi-komuna, te stoga nije niti nepoznata niti zahteva ikakvu suspenziju neverice, iako je podignuta na nivo globalne filozofije koju pothranjuju upravo životna i karijerna razočarenja generacije dot.com profesionalaca, koji su odrasli upravo na silnoj sprdnji tim i takvim idealima. Zbog toga, svako od nas sa lakoćom može (to samo donekle, naravno) da se poistoveti sa takvom pomalo romantičnom vizijom "povratka prirodi", bar u onoj meri u kojoj smo sposobni da sebi tu viziju uobličimo, sve sedeći u tehnološki sofisticiranoj udobnosti sadašnjice. Čovek je zverka najviše sklona kompromisima upravo onda kada nije svesna sopstvenog kompromitovanja, tako da ne bi trebalo da nas čude sva ta naivna uverenja o "beskrvnim revolucijama", o "kontrolisanoj kolateralnoj šteti" i o "razumnim žrtvama kojima se kupuje sutrašnje blagostanje naše dece" – na kraju krajeva, sve su to koncepti koji sami sebe prodaju, i ako ikada poželimo da gledamo u lice kupaca tih i takvih koncepata, dovoljno je da svrnemo pogled na ogledalo. Upravo tako krajnje pojednostavljeni moralni, etički i ideološki koncepti imaju moć da izbrišu onu finu liniju između dobra i zla, kako u velikoj šemi finalnih zbivanja na nivou država, tako i u proceni karakternih značajki svakog pojedinca. A kad se takve dileme suoče u prozi koja bez stida deklariše pripadništvu žanru koji se uvelike bazira na simplificiranim odrednicama kojima preferiše moćne muškarce, lepe i bespomoćne žene i lako rešive probleme u striktno avanturističkom bitisanju, onda se i sam pokušaj rvanja sa takvim dilemama mora ne samo blagonaklono prepoznati, nego i silno poštovati. Na kraju krajeva, ovo je proza koja se bavi upravo onim pretpostavkama kojima se bavi mejnstrim i od kojih populistički, eskapistički deo žanra beži kao od kuge – o odgovornosti, ličnoj i društvenoj, o prirodi samog klasnog sistema i hijerarhijskog ustrojstva i o ispoljavanju sile unutar tog sistema i ustrojstva. To zasigurno nisu aspekti kojima se prilazi kroz žanrovski eskapizam, baš kao što ni njihova prozna elaboracija nije namenjena suštinski neodraslom jezgru žanrovskog čitalaštva. A pošto roman nigde ne pravi ustupke koji bi ga primakli tom delu čitalačke baze, rekla bih da je ovo roman osuđen na ograničenu popularnost. Niko neće da se satre od trčanja da ovu prozu prevede, toliko je bar sigurno.

Način na koji je Direktiva 51 isporučuje apokalipsu na lepi nam i mili svet je striktno tehnološki, što je i logično, pošto se sofisticirana tehnologija može uništiti samo onom još sofisticiranijom, a za potrebe ovog romana, to su nano-roboti i bioti. E sad, radnja romana je smeštena u blisku budućnost, udaljenu tek malo više od dve decenije, i tp je već pitanje obrazovane pretpostavke da se i apokaliptični nano-roboti i bioti zaista mogu proizvesti u tom roku, i to u uslovima krajnje terorističke underground strukture. Na kraju krajeva, iz moje laičke perspektive se maltene podrazumeva da je izuzetno teško proizvesti sofisticirane nano-robote i biote koji imaju specifičnu svrhu – tipa, recimo, lečenja raka ili rekonstrukcije srozanog imunog sistema ili već nešto slično u tom grandiozno gloriozno pozitivnom smislu - dok je relativno lakše industrijski proizvesti one biote i nano-robote koji za cilj imaju čisto uništenje ama baš svega sa čime dođu u kontakt. U tom smislu, Barnsova ekstrapolacija na bazi današnjih saznanja ne samo da impresionira svojom uverljivošću, nego i fascinira svojim bazično ljudskim pretpostavkama kako se svakoj alatki iznađu najpre mnoge svrhe zloupotrebe, da bi se tek kasnije, eventualno, došlo i do korisnih  mogućnosti upotrebe. Distopični fatalizam Barnsovog pristupa temi zasigurno nudi onu neophodnu pozadinu koja omogućava da nas roman impresionira i kao triler i kao futurističko upozorenje o katastrofalnim posledicama odmazde nezauzdane tehnološke supremacije, tako često predočavane u klasičnom žanrovskom tipu radoznalog deteta koje danas na raspolaganju ima ne samo šibice, nego i kanticu benzina pride. A kad sam već sve to rekla, onda je možda i fer da ponudim i kratak sadržaj, uz minimum spojlera:

Na dan 28 oktobra 2024, projekat "Svitanje" je istovremeno stupio na snagu u gotovo svim značajnijim zemljama, ili, bolje rečeno, u gotovo svim delovima planete Zemlje. Projekat je do tada godinama egzistirao kao radikalna internet grupacija čiji su multimilionski članovi imali jednu zajedničku i ujedinjavajuću ideju – da sruše takozvani "Veliki Sistem", oličen ne samo u državnim strukturama najmoćnijih zemalja, nego i u samoj organizaciji samoodrživih sistema tehnološki orjentisanog sveta. Pokret nije bio tajan, naravno, bio je otvoren za sve i svakoga, a prolazio je nezapaženo uglavnom zato što je ispoljavao ideje isuviše radikalne da bi ih iko uzeo za ozbiljno, egzistirajući na netu kao neka vrst WOW verzije za vaskolike disidente. Projekat "Svitanje" je imao za neskriven cilj kompletno uništenje civilizacijskog sistema, i to kroz faze uništenja dvaju osnovnih komponenti koje ga održavaju: kroz uništenje svih generatora i akumulatora električne energije, i kroz uništenje svih artefakta baziranih na bilo kom vidu plastike. U jednom danu, istovremeno, milioni članova "Svitanja" su izvršili naizgled omanje diverzije koje su, u složenim uzročno-posledičnim kombinacijama  rezultovale uništenjem najpre svih elektiričnih naprava, to od tostera i automobilske baterije pa sve do satelita u orbiti, a onda i svih plastičnih proizvoda, to od penkala, plastičnih flaša i automobilskih guma, pa sve do sofisticiranih delova modern mašinerije, od aviona pa do već pomenutih satelita. Već u prvom danu apokalipse, većina temelja industrija na kojima je civilizacijski sistem baziran je nepovratno urušena, a svaki novi dan posle "dana D" je donosio sijaset novih uništenja. Primera radi, u gradovima čije su prometnice od prvog dana bile zakrčene automoblima bez guma i akumulatora, vatra je sravnila sa zemljom čitave četvrti, bez da je iko tu bio u stanju da ikome pomogne - gradovi su postali klopke za milione umirućih od gladi, žeđi i bolesti, a svi oni koji su nekako i uspeli da se izvuku iz takve situacije kasnije su desetkovali i, zauzvrat, bili brutalno desetkovani nasiljem koje je proizvelo bezakonje. Pa ipak, u centru Direktive 51 nije sav taj užas o kom bi se zaista moglo napisati tomove; u centru ovog romana je upravo direktiva na koju upućuje sam naslov – direktiva čiju je trenutačnu verziju ozakonio presednik Buš, a koja reguliše državni kontinuitet u slučaju iznenadnih i maltene nepredvidivih situacija u kojima bi glavnina vrhovnog ešalona američke federalne vlasti bila odjednom zbrisana sa lica zemlje, a sama potreba za implementacijom te direktive ukazuje koliko je "Svitanje" bilo efikasno, sa terorističke tačke gledišta. Gotovo pola romana odlazi na zbivanja u samom "danu D", dalja četvrtina odlazi na prvih deset post-apokaliptičnih dana a ostatak dovodi radnju na nešto malo više od mesec dana od same aktivacije "Svitanja", pa u tako pedantnoj rekreaciji zbivanja zaista nema mesta ni za kakve "glavne" likove; bitnijih likova ima sijaset, baš koliko i tačaka gledišta, i narativna celina je zbog toga vrlo detaljna, uverljiva i maksimalno trodimenzionalna. Roman se završava umereno intrigantnim klifhangerom po pitanju pozadinskih zbivanja ali, realno rečeno, funkcioniše i kao zaokružena celina, pošto samom svojom postavkom daje na znanje kako svet više nikada neće biti isti, a u nedostatku saznanja o novom svetu koji će ga zameniti, ovaj roman je sasvim dostatan kao ubedljiv dokument o smrti sveta kakvog danas znamo.

Sam Barns je pomalo "stara garda" pisaca tvrdog SFa, meni do sada nepoznat uglavnom zato što je sklon serijalima, mada će ovo možda biti prilika da bar neke od svojih predrasuda po pitanju SF serijala donele ispravim. 

Daybreak Zero

Daybreak Zero – John Barnes





Dakle, stvarno je odličan osećaj kad na pola trilogije izostane bilo kakvo lupanje glavom o zid. Ili još bolje, kad vas rizičan potez povlađivanja pomalo sujetnoj intuiciji nagradi opravdanjem za elan s kojim ste se bacilli na višetomsku žanrovsku prozu, to sve na veresiju obećanja koje je ponudio njen početak. Na kraju krajeva, prvi roman trilogije je maltene ekvivalent uvodnog pasusa kratke priče – umereno saopštava, odmereno nagoveštava i krajnje zavodljivo vas poziva da ga sledite. I mada trilogije zahtevaju nesrazmerno više ulaganja u tako rizičnom poduhvatu, barem se ne može negirati kako isplate budu srazmerne ulogu. To samo u slučaju da ikakve isplate bude, naravno; a po pitanju Barnsove trilogije Svitanje, sad sam prilično uverena da će je biti.

Najpre, sitna rekapitulacija prvog dela; 28 oktobra 2024 godine, koordinisane i efikasno raspoređene diverzije multimilionskog članstva Svitanja dokrajčile su eko-sabotažom svet kakav nam je danas poznat. Biološka oružja - namenjena uništenju goriva, plastike i električnih uređaja ali ne i ljudi - uništila su infrastrukturu na kojoj nam počiva vaskolika civilizacija. U roku od svega nekoliko sati zbrisani su sami temelji poznatog nam i udobnog sveta – nestalo je ili je oštećeno uglavnom sve, od obuće pa do automobilskih guma, od šporeta pa do kompjutera, od penkale do aviona, od telefona pa do satelita. U roku tih par dana, svet se strmoglavio na tehnološki nivo 19tog veka, otvarajući preko tog uništenja širok prostor za nicanje davno zaboravljenih veština, kojima su se do tada bavili uglavnom gikovi, iz prostog hobija. Direktiva 51 – prvi roman trilogije – pedantno opisuje taj i takav civilizacijski sunovrat, sledeći u tančine najznačajnija zbivanja, baš kao i najznačajnije učesnike, nemilice ih desetkujući do kraja romana, što se maltene da i očekivati u ozbiljnom postapokaliptičnom pristupu.
Drugi roman nastavlja zbivanja bez ikakvog vidljivog šava. Direktiva 51 je dosegla tek do stotog dana nakon Svitanja; Svitanje Nula nas odnosi do novembra 2025, kroz čitavu postapokaliptičnu godinu i, mada se rasprostire po daleko većoja vremenskoj skali, nimalo time ne gubi na intezitetu pripovedanja. Kao što i priliči središnjem romanu trilogije, Svitanje Nula ne objašnjava začetke zapleta, date nam u prvom romanu; Svitanje Nula im naprosto rasteže originalne razmere do zaista džinovskih proporcija, pri tom oprezno izbegavajući čak i najsitniji nagoveštaj raspleta. Ono što je u prvom romanu bila tek insinuacija, u drugom postaje gotovo neizdrživa strepnja; šta je, zapravo, bilo to "Svitanje"? Da li je to bila teroristička urota, izvedena od strane prijatelja i komšija, to u ime dobrobiti spašavanja planete koju svi jednako dele? Ili je iza "Svitanja" ipak bila veštačka inteligencija, onaj dobro nam poznat AI predstavnik svesti bez savesti? Ili je "Svitanje" naprosto bio fenomen poznat kao "sistem artefakt" – rezultat civilizacijskih interakcija koje egzistiraju isključivo na bazi nasumičnih, pa stoga i teško prepoznatljivih značajki, zbog kojih je i sam artefakt vidljiv jedino po svojim posledicama, naizgled i bez konkretnih uzora i izvora? Recimo da je tu artefakt pomalo nalik na modne trendove, koji proizilaze iz izvesnih kulturoloških fenomena na koje se možda i može u određenoj meri uticati, ali koji se ipak ne mogu u potpunosti kontrolisati - kao naprasna popularnost neke pop-kulturne avangarde, oko koje se preko noći stvori sledbeništvo čiju konstrukciju niko ne može suvereno da svojata, bez obzira na jačinu propagandnog upliva. Efekat je tu poguban, naravno, taman koliko je i zarazan ili neuništiv; mislim stvarno... kako se boriti protiv popularnosti neke pop-pesme ili filma unutar samog trendovskog sledbeništva? U doba ovako nesmetanog pristupa neograničenoj količini informacija, cenzura ili zabrana po pravlu proizvode kontraefekat kažnjavanja samog korisnika, čime ujedno samo inspiriše produkciju na veću sofisticiranost. I dok je Direktiva 51 dozvoljavala da se te kompleksne dileme tek naslute, Svitanje Nula ih intenzivira i detaljiše, bez da ih objašnjava i bez da se priklanja ma kojoj od prepoznatljivih mogućnosti po pitanju porekla istih. Da li je "Svitanje" imalo za cilj da kontroliše čovečanstvo ili da ga zatre? I dalje nam nije poznato da li je "Svitanje" imalo vođe, ali sad bar saznajemo da Svitanje i dalje ima mnogobrojne agente koji se s lakoćom i bukvalno svuda infiltriraju, to od vladinih organizacija pa do samog uma pojedinca. I mada nam je donekle jasnija skala na kojoj se to radi, i dalje nam nije poznato ko i kako to radi, iako je sam zaplet sad već proširen i do baze na Mesecu. Zaista, po pitanju rapleta, Svitanje Nula vas prži na žeravici uslužno razastrtoj još sa prvim romanom, tako da je glad i dalje neutažena, uprkos obilnoj porciji vešto predočenih novih zbivanja.

Ono što drugom delu trilogije daje dubinu (bez obzira akcioni format isporuke) je najpre izdvajanje snažnog ženskog lika; Heather O'Grainne je bila tek "član tima jakih" u prvom romanu, ali u drugom postaje ne samo samostalan učesnik biranja pravca u kom se kreće postapokaliptični svet, nego i najuticajni faktor koji drži na odstojanju gotovo neminovan civilni rat. Jer, da: nakon kolapsa civilizacije i u uslovima gotovo zatrte populacije, ono što po logici stvari sledi je – civilni rat među zaraćenim frakcijama, i to ne rat oko resursa neophodnih za preživljavanje, nego oko političkih vizija kako bi "budući svet" trebalo da izgleda. Fundamentalizam, u svakom svom obliku i načinu, se aktivno bori za prevlast ne obazirući se na žrtve i posledice, a kao najmoćniji se izvajaju politički i religiozni fundamentalizam. Barns kao da nam nudi mogućnost da studiranjem tih ideoloških zastranjivanja polako sastavimo mozaik i o samom fenomenu "Svitanja", vakcinišući nas za mogućnost kako svako ideološko zastranjivanje - ma kako fantastično, nelogično i u stvarnosti neutemeljeno izgledalo na prvi pogled – počiva na užasavajuće praktičnoj unutrašnjoj logici; samoobmane nam počivaju na čvrstim temeljima koji nisu niti površni niti naivni, uprkos tome što upravo tako izgledaju nesrećnicima bez benefita inicijacije. Snažan ženski lik, oličen u Heather, postaje zato lako razumljiv i još lakše prihvatljiv, jasno ocrtan na pozadini vaskolike ideološke ostrašćenosti; Heather je u "Svitanju" izgubila partnera ali je stekla dete, i njen primarni stav je time uslovljen kao protektivan a konačni cilj praktičan. Ruku na srce, u romanu to uopšte nije ponuđeno stereotipno, kako to ovde možda zvuči – preko Heather se ne nude niti prepoznatljivo feministički, niti prepoznatljivo matrijahalni obrasci borbe "žene u svetu muškaraca", već više praktični i logični rezultati zdravog demokratskog društvenog uređenja. I mada ima likova koji također streme istom političkom uređenju, jedna od razlika je najuočljivija u činjenici da se oni ne libe diktatorskih metoda u postizanju tog cilja.




Dodatna dimenzija Barnsovog postapokaliptičnog sveta bavi se analizom debljine same civilizacijske venire kojom se čovek toliko ponosi u salonskim diskusijama ali koja se zastrašujuće lako uklanja u uslovima samoodabrane odgovornosti i izostanka kazne za istu. Mada u romanu ima taman dovoljno elemenata fantastike da se Barnsova psihologija mase prihvati sa zadrškom do samog raspleta, ipak je dovoljno prepoznatljiva da se na njoj bazira upečatljiv raspad civilizacije koja počiva uglavnom na zakonu i luksuzu, a ne na intelektu i produhovljenosti, kako već to sirota nam civilizacija samu sebe uporno uverava. Barnsovo insistiranje na trileru i akciji donekle kamuflira dubinu te analize, taman dovoljno da prozu učini prihvatljivijom i preko žanrovski-zabavnog pristupa, ostavljajući time i dovoljno prostora za "nismo krivi mi, krivi su oni drugi" eskapizam u završnom delu, ali iskreno se nadam da tome neće podleći, ili bar ne u velikoj meri.

Bilo kako bilo, trilogija Svitanje zadržava veliki potencijal da priviri u mnoge mračne uglove ne samo sveta kakvog danas imamo, nego i sveta kakav bi lako mogli da dobijemo, kad bi se svetovi –nedaj Bože! - delili po zaslugama.

Quote from: LiBeat on 19-03-2011, 11:23:31
Ono što drugom delu trilogije daje dubinu (bez obzira akcioni format isporuke) je najpre izdvajanje snažnog ženskog lika; Heather O'Grainne je bila tek "član tima jakih" u prvom romanu, ali u drugom postaje ne samo samostalan učesnik biranja pravca u kom se kreće postapokaliptični svet, nego i najuticajni faktor koji drži na odstojanju gotovo neminovan civilni rat.

Ovo je moglo da se nasluti iz kraja prvog dela. 

Donekle da, priznajem, ali opet - to je tamo bilo uglavnom unutar ustavne krize po pitanju hijerarhije prenosa vrhovne vlasti i tako to... njena neutralnost je tamo bila više kao politička dimenzija između Provis i Tempera, ali su se na to ovde nadogradile nove frakcije religioznih i vojnih fundamentalista i onih već pominjanih feudalnih zamkova, tako da je postala skroz autonomna. Primera radi, u prvom romanu nije donela niti jednu samostalnu političku odluku, nego se samo opredeljivala da li da sledi Kameronovu ili Vajsbergovu inicijativu, dok u drugom romanu obojici prilazi iz striktno autonomne pozicije u vreme kad su obojica toliko zastranili da međusobno ni ne komuniciraju.

Dalje, njeni prioriteti su se također promenili, u fokus su upali Tribals (kako bi se to prevelo, "plemena"? ), tako da je shvatila daleko pre njih dvojice kako je opsednutost ustavno-proceduralnim pitanjima prilično nebitna, ako država izgubi suverenitet nad samom teritorijom. Zbog te dalekovidosti mi je i postala daleko bitniji faktor od njih dvojice, iako ona nije političar niti je ušla u samu državnu strukturu. Ako se nastavi linijom koju je zacrtao prvi roman, tipujem da će i Kameron i Vajsberg skroz nestati u prvim izborima, dok će ona najverovatnije opstati u političkoj sferi. Doduše, nadam se da to neće biti u svojstvu političara, nego uticajnog naučnog saradnika... to bi mi baš dalo ono što očekujem od trilogije.

Dalje, ima nešto i u onom Barsovom nepominjanju ostatka sveta, baš sam nešto razmišljala o tome, ali fer je priznati da mi to uopšte nije palo na pamet dok sam knjigu čitala. Šta ja znam, valjda je to posledica formiranja ukusa na američkom žanru.   Recimo, sad se pitam da li bi mi ovaj zaplet bio isto toliko intrigantan da je smešten u Brazil ili Kinu? Iskreno – ne. Nekako mi se čini da kršenje američkih ustavnih amandmana prozivodi dramu kakva naprosto ne bi funkcionisala u Kini pa to ti je... u stvari, kad bolje razmisliš, ima li zemlje u kojoj bi se ogroman deo populacije toliko satirao da ne izgubi svoje državno uređenje? Većina vlada ga iovako maltene na silu nameće, možeš misliti koliko dugo bi takvi opstali u postapokaliptičnim uslovima koje Barns nudi...  

Quote from: LiBeat on 19-03-2011, 18:13:57
Dalje, ima nešto i u onom Barsovom nepominjanju ostatka sveta, baš sam nešto razmišljala o tome, ali fer je priznati da mi to uopšte nije palo na pamet dok sam knjigu čitala.

Knjiga se, je li, bavi zavrzlamom u "nasleđivanju" predsedničkih ovlasti u SAD, a na osnovu D51. Apokalipsa je koliko osnova/pozadina priče, toliko i uzrok te zavrzlame. Jasno mi je zašto je akcenat samo na američkom doživljavanju apokalipse. Nemam ja s tim problema. Samo sam napomenuo da mi fali bar jedan (recimo ona dvojica što su "nestali" u onoj vikendici/čemu li - mogli su biti 'ladno francuzi/kinezi/australijanci) pogled na apokalipsu iz ugla nekog ne-amera. Ovako mi knjiga odaje utisak da je pisana striktno za amere. Bez obzira, slažem se da je knjiga odlična.

Quote from: LiBeat on 19-03-2011, 18:13:57
... u stvari, kad bolje razmisliš, ima li zemlje u kojoj bi se ogroman deo populacije toliko satirao da ne izgubi svoje državno uređenje? Većina vlada ga iovako maltene na silu nameće, možeš misliti koliko dugo bi takvi opstali u postapokaliptičnim uslovima koje Barns nudi...

Upravo to! Ali da ja ne poznajem (barem donekle) ovaj aspekt državnog uređenja SAD i da nisam svestan (barem donekle) o njihovom iracionalnom strahu o gubitku "glave" države, možda mi dosta toga ne bi bilo jasno (tako nešto) u priči. Ponavljam, imam utisak da sam čitao roman pisan za amere. I ponavljam, bez obzira na to, knjiga je odlična.

Quote from: LiBeat on 19-03-2011, 18:13:57
Ako se nastavi linijom koju je zacrtao prvi roman, tipujem da će i Kameron i Vajsberg skroz nestati u prvim izborima, dok će ona najverovatnije opstati u političkoj sferi.

Nadam se da će se ispostaviti da je neko od njih troje Dejbrejker... 

Quote from: Gaff on 19-03-2011, 19:43:19

Nadam se da će se ispostaviti da je neko od njih troje Dejbrejker... 

Bilo je svašta sa dejbrejkom, ne bih ti da spojlujem, ali bar su njih troje ostali sejf do kraja drugog toma.

Quote from: LiBeat on 20-03-2011, 19:45:34
Bilo je svašta sa dejbrejkom, ne bih ti da spojlujem...

Nemoj da spojluješ, molim te! 

Quote from: LiBeat on 20-03-2011, 19:45:34
... ali bar su njih troje ostali sejf do kraja drugog toma.

Pa to mi je i sumnjivo. Tipujem na Grejema. 

Ako budeš u pravu, to će doći u nekom žešćem obrtu, zaista. Ne mogu ni da zamislim tu mogućnost.  

Nego, da ne bude sve samo o romanima, evo i jedan podsetnik na obavezne naslove druge vrste:

Engineering Infinity - Jonathan Strahan
Mike Ashley - The Mammoth Book of Apocalyptic SF
Ian Whates - Conflicts
Nick Gevers Marty Halpern - Is anybody out there?
Jetse de Vries - Shine
Alastair Reynolds - Deep navigation
James Patrick Kelly & John Kessel - The Secret History of Science Fiction
Jonathan Strahan - Eclipse 3
Gardner Dozois & Jonathan Strahan - The new space opera 2

prvi je na redu, naravno, prvi, ako sutra u flip-d-koin ne prevagne drugi.  

  Ovaj Shine deluje veselo  javi kakav je. Od onoga sto sam citao, ako me secanje dobro sluzi, Eclipse je mozda najvise tvoja soljica caja.

http://www.physorg.com/news/2011-03-google-digital.html

Quote
A US judge dealt a major blow to Google's digital book-scanning project on Tuesday, rejecting a settlement with authors and publishers that would have allowed the Internet giant to create a vast online library.

"While the digitization of books and the creation of a universal digital library would benefit many, the (proposed settlement) would simply go too far," US District Court Judge Denny Chin said in his ruling.

In his 48-page ruling, which came 13 months after Google and opponents of the deal had their day in court, Chin said the proposed settlement was not "fair, adequate and reasonable."

Explaining his decision, he said the settlement would grant Google "significant rights to exploit entire books, without permission of the copyright owners."

The settlement would give Google "a significant advantage over competitors, rewarding it for engaging in wholesale copying of copyrighted works without permission," he said.

The settlement agreement resulted from a class action lawsuit filed in 2005 by the Authors Guild and the Association of American Publishers (AAP) charging Google with copyright infringement.

The settlement called for Google to pay $125 million to resolve outstanding claims and to establish an independent "Book Rights Registry," which would provide sales and advertising revenue to authors and publishers.

Google managing counsel Hilary Ware expressed disappointment with the judge's ruling.

"This is clearly disappointing, but we'll review the court's decision and consider our options," Ware said in a statement.

"Like many others, we believe this agreement has the potential to open-up access to millions of books that are currently hard to find in the US today," she said. "Regardless of the outcome, we'll continue to work to make more of the world's books discoverable online through Google Books and Google eBooks."

Supporters of the settlement have argued that Google's proposed digital library and electronic bookstore would make millions of out-of-print books available and provide a new avenue for authors to profit from their works.

Opponents urged the judge to reject the deal on antitrust, copyright and privacy grounds and said it would give Google exclusive rights to digitize "orphan works" -- out-of-print books whose authors cannot be traced.

The Justice Department criticized the settlement between Google and the Authors Guild and the AAP for including books unless an author expressly opts out of the deal.

Judge Chin also expressed concern about the opt-out aspect of the settlement.

"Many of the concerns raised in the objections would be ameliorated if the (proposed settlement) were converted from an 'opt-out' settlement to an 'opt-in' settlement," he said in his ruling.

(c) 2011 AFP]A US judge dealt a major blow to Google's digital book-scanning project on Tuesday, rejecting a settlement with authors and publishers that would have allowed the Internet giant to create a vast online library.

"While the digitization of books and the creation of a universal digital library would benefit many, the (proposed settlement) would simply go too far," US District Court Judge Denny Chin said in his ruling.

In his 48-page ruling, which came 13 months after Google and opponents of the deal had their day in court, Chin said the proposed settlement was not "fair, adequate and reasonable."

Explaining his decision, he said the settlement would grant Google "significant rights to exploit entire books, without permission of the copyright owners."

The settlement would give Google "a significant advantage over competitors, rewarding it for engaging in wholesale copying of copyrighted works without permission," he said.

The settlement agreement resulted from a class action lawsuit filed in 2005 by the Authors Guild and the Association of American Publishers (AAP) charging Google with copyright infringement.

The settlement called for Google to pay $125 million to resolve outstanding claims and to establish an independent "Book Rights Registry," which would provide sales and advertising revenue to authors and publishers.

Google managing counsel Hilary Ware expressed disappointment with the judge's ruling.

"This is clearly disappointing, but we'll review the court's decision and consider our options," Ware said in a statement.

"Like many others, we believe this agreement has the potential to open-up access to millions of books that are currently hard to find in the US today," she said. "Regardless of the outcome, we'll continue to work to make more of the world's books discoverable online through Google Books and Google eBooks."

Supporters of the settlement have argued that Google's proposed digital library and electronic bookstore would make millions of out-of-print books available and provide a new avenue for authors to profit from their works.

Opponents urged the judge to reject the deal on antitrust, copyright and privacy grounds and said it would give Google exclusive rights to digitize "orphan works" -- out-of-print books whose authors cannot be traced.

The Justice Department criticized the settlement between Google and the Authors Guild and the AAP for including books unless an author expressly opts out of the deal.

Judge Chin also expressed concern about the opt-out aspect of the settlement.

"Many of the concerns raised in the objections would be ameliorated if the (proposed settlement) were converted from an 'opt-out' settlement to an 'opt-in' settlement," he said in his ruling.

(c) 2011 AFP

aha! Skoro 6 godina kasnije – a ne verujem ni da je ovo finalna tačka na kontraverzu - ispada da je ovo je zasluga upravo Grand Dame, skoro single-handedly, tek uz pomoć Mekintajerove po pitanju okupljanja ljudi za peticiju! pratila sam peticioni blog neko vreme, pa to je bila maltene who is who lista u današnjoj fantastici, divota jedna, zaista. Zanima me samo koliko je renomiranih autora pobeglo iz Authors Guild, nakon njene ostavke na članstvo; sad mi već izgleda da AG okuplja uglavnom sitne ribice koje ionako ne mogu žive od svog pisanja, pa bi ga ustupili Guglu i za dž, da barem imaju 'slavu' da ih pretraživač izbaci, kud već nemaju pare i tiraže...    ... a njena peticija je okupila oko 400 zvučnih imena, uz podršku i kongresmena i najbogatije spisateljice ikada i teškaša među agencijama. S tako nečim ni gugl nije mogao da se nosi...        

Koliko ja vidim, sa spiska onih koji su potpisali peticiju ili je podržali nedostaju svi trenutno najčitaniji i najuticajniji pisci naučne, epske i ostalih fantastika. Premda ima poznatih pisaca i meni veoma omiljenih, čini mi se da nema nijednog koji trenutno igra u prvoj ligi.

Edit: Moguće da nisam pronašao najaktuelniji spisak, ili šta već. 'Ajd daj link, plz.