Annihilation holds the reader at arm's length, setting up an allegorical intent. Everything’s a variable. Characters are defined by their function: thAnnihilation holds the reader at arm's length, setting up an allegorical intent. Everything’s a variable. Characters are defined by their function: the Biologist, the Anthropologist, The Psychologist and the Surveyor. The biologist (and narrator) designates the alien presence as the Crawler. The team is the latest to explore Area X, where they are on an expedition in to a tunnel, which is actually a Tower. Somewhere in the distance is the Island.
The Biologist reminiscences on the sniping relationship she shared with her husband. Her husband significantly gave her the nickname "ghost bird, which was his way of teasing [her] for not being present enough in his life."
The overall premise is similar to The Thing, or the Alien or Prometheus movie franchises. An external force or presence whittles away at exploratory teams, turning them against each other through rampant fear, paranoia and isolation.
... my senses still seemed too acute, too sharp. I was adapting to it, but at times like this, I remembered that just a day ago I had been someone else.
VanderMeer has apt writing mechanics, but the storytelling is very wooden. There's plenty of telling and little showing. The prose is correct but lifeless and mechanical. The sentences have the same length and cadence, typically following this pattern (brief sentence and a summation):
The beauty of it cannot be understood, either, and when you see beauty in desolation it changes something inside you. Desolation tries to colonize you.
There are certain kinds of deaths that one should not be expected to relive, certain kinds of connections so deep that when they are broken you feel the snap of the link inside you.
The characters are filtered through the Biologist's narrative. The voice is distant, cold, clinical. Here she evaluates her husband:
He was set in his course by then, and any obstruction was a source of rough humor for him--and that would have been entirely natural, hypnosis or not. It was entirely in keeping with his personality to become set on something and follow it, regardless of the consequences.
There are no warm relationships to be found. She sums up their relationship and the reading experience: "It was a kind of repetitive, trancelike fucking, comfortable only because the weather cocooned us."
In many ways the novel is similar to Lovecraft's Mountains of Madness. Both authors have a long, dry, scientific approach to the lead-in, though VanderMeer's isn't as dry as Lovecraft's. Yet the revelations are less inspired when they surface. They're described as one might describe a stroboscope in tedious detail and with no clear importance attached to the revelation. Only the oddness of the experience. "I was close. I knew I was close... to what, I had no idea."
It all left me hungry, but not hungry for more.
But soon enough I banished this nonsense; some questions will ruin you if you are denied the answer long enough.
I would point anyone to try Dan Simmons’ Hyperion series instead....more
Harrison is foremost a short story writer, most comfortable when he can expound beyond poetry, but stop short of spoon-feeding the reader. Missing detHarrison is foremost a short story writer, most comfortable when he can expound beyond poetry, but stop short of spoon-feeding the reader. Missing details often seem bewildering, but ultimately the stream of conscious fragments convey a sense of carefully edited craft. Some stories are more accessible, such as the title piece, but even these have a way of injecting uncertainty, bending the story in intriguing ways.
The Machine in Shaft Ten provides a view into his exciting new style when he was first breaking. Several of the stories have long since been revised for other collected works, and benefited from improved development.
It's not easy--often impossible--to interpret the stories. Sometimes it is equally futile to simply summarize them. They usually center around an estranged anti-hero facing impossible odds, insurmountable obstacles, taking dubious action. What they have in common is a beautiful style, utilizing uncommon words that subtly emote, or serve to paint a lush mental image. Even his simpler sentences often connect ideas in an unusual way. The plot is an impression, the style is spellbinding, intense, lyrical.
From "Running Down"
That night was one of vast heat and discomfort: the rancid smell I had noticed on my first day in the cottage oozed from the furniture as if the heat were rendering from the stuffing of the cushions some foul grease no scrubbing brush could touch; my sleeping bag was sticky and intolerable, and no amount of force would move the windows, I lay for hours in an exhausted doze poisoned by nightmares and incoherent, half-conscious fantasies.
From "Ring of Pain"
Sad six o'clock light, strained through gaps in the torn chain link fencing.
"The Bringer with the Window"
Eidetic images of ghosts flit on this wind: women weeping weave shrouds at ebbtide; famine-children wail to old men at twilight.
This is not the book you think it is. It’s not a schlocky horror story, it’s about a rightfully bitter creation who embodies depth and wonder, abandonThis is not the book you think it is. It’s not a schlocky horror story, it’s about a rightfully bitter creation who embodies depth and wonder, abandoned by his creator. That creator embarked on a project to bring life into the world because he could, having no plan beyond that. If this sounds familiar that’s because the searching monstrosity is each of us.
The themes are rich and numerous. Consider how Dr Frankenstein’s science has biologically displaced women. Or what is science’s responsibility in the face of great discovery. Or what is the individual’s responsibility—where does it end (does it even have an ending)? Is the life that imbues us steered by free will, or are we predetermined mechanical constructs?
Frankenstein is a magnificent work by a gifted artist. Mary Shelly and her story leave an impression long after the cover is closed.
The Roads Between the Worlds collects three of Moorcock's early works. The stories have minor retouches and introductions that link them to the latestThe Roads Between the Worlds collects three of Moorcock's early works. The stories have minor retouches and introductions that link them to the latest model of his Multiverse appearing in the Second Ether: a series influenced by discoveries in Chaos Theory (not coincidentally published by White Wolf alongside these omnibus editions!).
In The Wrecks of Time (aka The Rituals of Infinity), humans are the subjects of experiments by greater entities trying to make humanity a more successful race. An interesting aspect of this story is that Dr Faustus is able to reason with these godlike entities.
All three novels have scenes of violence, but it is refreshing to find that ultimately they end with nonviolent resolution.
The Winds of Limbo (aka The Fireclown) and Shores of Death (aka The Twilight Man) are primarily political. They illustrate peaceful societies under attack by schemers whose initial motives are noble, but the nature of their will to control others tends toward corruption. The individual willing to submit to their own personal ambitions rather than the more common welfare risks following a similar path.
In The Winds of Limbo Alain is an apolitical member of the political Von Bek family which has held power for generations. The longer Alain tries to be neutral the more he becomes the tool of political schemers. Yet his neutrality helps him remain skeptical of the enigmatic, Buddha-like Fireclown, an inexplicable creature whose equally enigmatic jargon touches the populace on a near-messianic level. He is vaguely similar to Chauncey from Kosinski's Being There.
As the Fireclown's popularity grows, he earns political enemies who frame him for acts of terrorism. The Fireclown's only ambition is to remove the source of aberration in the universe: human intelligence. Alain learns the truth of the Fireclown's innocence, but at the same time discovers his insane vision for mankind. After all of the plots are exposed and the threats have been driven out, society returns to normal... a narrow miss:
The Vs also said that order had been completely restored. Alain wondered. On the surface, perhaps, it was true. But what of the disorder that must still exist in the hearts and minds of most members of the public?
Becker, the hero of the Shores of Death, has been tricked. Although he is famous for his wisdom and intelligence, his growing wish for immortality is a subtle step toward the vigilante Almer's overt political tyranny.
When the unearthly genius Sharvis' offers Becker his wish, Becker is unclear about Sharvis' motives. He can't be certain whether Sharvis' intent is benevolent, malign or truly neutral as he claims. Becker lives to regret that he failed to take Mr Take's warnings seriously about Sharvis':
"... [Sharvis] is wiser than any man has ever been. He knows how to trick someone of your intelligence. He means you nothing but harm. If he gives you immortality as he gave it to me, you will feel nothing except despair--eternally. Don't you realize that?"
The price is Becker's loss of feelings and desire. Becker discovers Sharvis' motives only after being consigned to the same numb neutrality; an intelligent, curious disinterest.
The political statements are strong, serving to warn about giving over freedoms, and how quickly a free society can slip into dictatorship.
The plots of these early stories disintegrate near the ending. They tend to begin with good flash and intrigue, but the theme outpaces the plot which tends toward open-endedness. There are several chapters of repetition, and when he presents the most important ideas, he wraps them up quickly in irony....more
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