pauraque: bird flying over the trans flag (trans pride)
Happy Pride Month! In June I'll be reviewing media by trans and nonbinary creators.

Alan L. Hart (1890-1962) was one of the first trans men in the US to have gender-affirming surgery. He was a doctor himself and had an illustrious career in which he made major breakthroughs in our understanding of tuberculosis, and particularly the use of X-rays to diagnose it. He was also a successful fiction writer, publishing several short stories and four novels that drew on his experiences as a physician, which were well-received for their insights into the daily struggles and petty egos of the medical world.

His second novel, 1936's The Undaunted, follows Dr. Richard Cameron, who returns to civilian medical practice after serving in the Great War. He becomes fascinated by pernicious anemia, a condition that at the time has no known cause and no cure. He discovers an effective treatment, but to get his findings published and recognized he has to deal with lack of research funding, uncooperative patients, jealous rival doctors, egomaniacal laboratory heads, and greedy pharmaceutical companies. (Are we sure this was written 90 years ago?) Intertwined with his career are two important relationships: his love interest Judith, a university librarian whom he struggles to connect with because he's been hurt before, and his friend Dr. Sandy Farquhar, a radiologist who lives in fear of being outed as gay.

cut for length )

Hart's books were out of print for decades, but his first two novels, Doctor Mallory and The Undaunted, were recently brought back into print by Propeller Books and are available through Bookshop.org. Funnily enough, Propeller's interest is not in early trans authors, but rather in Pacific Northwest authors—Hart practiced medicine in Oregon for some time, and both books are at least partly set there. Whatever works!
pauraque: Picard reads a book while vacationing on Risa (st picard reads)
In this sequel to The Three-Body Problem, it's now out in the open that an alien invasion is coming. But the aliens' doomed planet is far away and this is hard SF, so they're not expected to reach Earth for 400 years. The book follows a mostly new set of characters and international organizations as they try to work out a long-term plan to somehow defend Earth against a force with vastly superior technology and no interest in negotiating.

This book is 500 pages long and I don't think it had to be. I found the first half a real slog, as it mostly focused on plot elements that I felt were not plausible (not for speculative reasons, but for No Real Person Would Ever Do This reasons) and, surprisingly, a romance. I don't know if Liu got the criticism that the first book didn't care about people so he decided to put in a love story, or what, but the way he handles it is extremely strange and unrealistic and made me question whether he had ever interacted with a woman in his entire life, so maybe he should have stuck with ideas over people.

It also suffers from a rather flat and awkward English translation that calls way more attention to the fact that it is a translation than the first book's did. (They had a different translator for this one, but brought back Ken Liu for book three.) That's not the book's fault, but it definitely affected my experience of it.

That said, the second half did pick up a lot, and leaned much more heavily into Liu's strengths as a writer: the inventive worldbuilding and the show-stopping cinematic set pieces. I did enjoy that and it brought me back to what I liked about the first book. Liu has a distinctive knack for making even catastrophic and grisly events weirdly fun to read about because of how hard he commits to them and how intricately he constructs their details. Anybody can write about stuff blowing up in space, but not everybody can show exactly why and how it's blowing up, zoom into individual pieces of debris and out to massive chain reactions, and have a reader like me, who is often bored by action scenes, attentively following along every step of the way.

many spoilery thoughtsThe main thing I thought was implausible was the concept of the Wallfacers. Basically, the UN chooses four people and gives them each unlimited resources to develop and enact a plan to defend against the aliens. There's no oversight and anything they do is legal and unquestioned. This is supposed to counter the aliens' ability to remotely surveil Earth; if the plan takes shape in one person's head, then the aliens, who are said to not understand secrets and deception, won't find out about it.

Many things about this concept invite skepticism, but my biggest issue is how the presentation glosses over the complexity of human societies. Liu assumes that essentially everyone in the world will tacitly support whatever the UN does, with no significant debate or objection, even when it directly affects people's lives. He has the Wallfacers using so many resources for their massive defense constructions that it's crushing the global economy, and people just twiddle their thumbs and let it happen. He often paints global reactions with an extremely broad brush, like "people felt/thought X" as though all of humanity were a monolith. I can't speak for countries other than my own, but in this situation I can confidently say that half the people in the US probably wouldn't even believe the aliens were real, and even if they did, they sure as hell wouldn't put their faith in four people arbitrarily selected by the UN to save us all.

Sometimes Liu seems to know there are problems with these ideas, as when the narrative flashes forward a couple of centuries and the Wallfacer project is seen as one of the many "silly" things attempted during the initial panic over the invasion. Then again, Wallfacer Luo Ji's plan does basically work in the end, so I wasn't really clear on what the book was trying to say here.

I did enjoy the future worldbuilding, where most humans live in underground cities of massive treelike skyscrapers that hold up the ceiling where a holographic sky is projected. He did a slightly better job here of showing that cultures aren't all the same; a lot of people in the future are "hibernators" who were put into stasis in the past at various times and reawoken later, and their attitudes often differ from people who are native to the future. This also helped build a believable friendship between Shi Qiang and Luo Ji, since they're the only two people they know from their time. (I think this is the only compelling human relationship in the book, certainly better than whatever the hell was supposed to be happening with Luo Ji and the imaginary woman he made up in his head who turned out to be real somehow... It's a long story.)

I was also interested in the concept of the accidental generation ships. Almost the entire Earth fleet is destroyed by an alien probe that they thought was harmless, and the few crews that barely escape believe (understandably) that returning to Earth is suicide and that continuing to flee is humanity's best hope for survival. This entire scenario plays out over the length of a chapter, but whole books could be written about it! The part where they realize that they have too many people to keep alive long-term and some will have to be sacrificed read like an homage to "The Cold Equations," though I don't know if that story is as well-known among Chinese SF readers.

Of course it's also consistent with the book's generally pessimistic outlook on space exploration. I did know before I started reading what the "dark forest" solution to the Fermi Paradox is, but I didn't know the hypothesis was named after the book!! The idea is that the reason we haven't found aliens is that the galaxy is fucking dangerous and any planetary civilizations that foolishly jump around waving their hands and flashing neon signs trying to make first contact only make themselves a target. Aliens are out there, but the ones who have survived are the quiet ones. As a person whose favorite SF canon is Star Trek, this obviously doesn't align with my preferred way of looking at things, but it's internally consistent and not implausible, so I can roll with it.

I am invested enough to read the third book, and looking forward to getting back to a translator who knows what he's doing at least.
pauraque: Picard reads a book while vacationing on Risa (st picard reads)
As I was cross-checking Le Guin's short stories to make sure I had access to all of them, I realized I was missing "Selection" which is a story written during the period covered by The Wind's Twelve Quarters but not included in it. The going assumption seems to be that Le Guin left it out because she didn't like it, but the editor of the monthly sci-fi magazine Amazing Stories liked it enough to print it in the August 1964 issue. You can buy a copy of this issue for about five US dollars, which happens to almost exactly track inflation from its cover price of 50 cents. So... I bought one! And since I bothered to do that, I figured I'd read the whole thing and report my findings.

Notes on the issue and what's in it )

My comments on the stories contain spoilers.

"The HoneyEarthers" by Robert F. Young

A scuzzy rich space dude tries to horn in on his son's young wife... or does he??Said rich space dude is Aaron Price, who owns a company that harvests water from Saturn's rings. His spoiled son Ronny leaves his wife Fleurette, and Aaron tries to manipulate him into not going through with the divorce by threatening to turn him in for tax evasion. Ronny flees the planet, and Aaron, who's been lusting after Fleurette for years, takes her to a romantic resort on the moon, where he finally reveals the truth: He is a time traveler, and Ronny isn't his son, but his younger self with "space fugue" amnesia brought on by a traumatic incident where he almost died working on the Saturn water-harvesting project. We don't get a super clear picture of Fleurette's reaction to this, but she basically runs like hell, which is the only part of the story that makes any sense.

I disliked this novelette so much it was hard to get through it. The SF elements are boringly infodumpy, the time travel plot is unnecessarily complicated and confusing (my synopsis simplifies it a LOT), the interpersonal drama plays like a bad soap opera, and the prose is so painfully overwrought and filled with clumsy metaphors that I occasionally wondered if it was satire. "The girlish dress she was wearing began below her shoulders, and the firelight had already fallen in love with her smooth clear skin. Meadow flowers grew around her, and her mouth had the redness of the wild raspberries that grew in the fields of his youth. Spring resided in the dew-brightness of her eyes; her cheeks held the hue of frost-kissed leaves." (This character is human, so I don't believe he meant her cheeks were green, though I don't know what he did mean.) I guess we're supposed to think Aaron's behavior towards Fleurette is okay in the end because it turns out he is secretly her husband, but for most of the story we see him as her father-in-law, so he comes off like a disgusting creep. The way the author chooses to constantly emphasize how young and girlish and naive Fleurette is made my skin crawl. I had never heard of this author before, and at the end of this story I was relieved to depart from his presence.

"Selection" by Ursula K. Le Guin

On a colony planet where a supercomputer matches everyone to their genetically and socially optimal spouse, a woman is displeased with her match.Joan doesn't have any specific reason to dislike Harry, she just finds him annoying and is pretty pissed to be stuck with him, though he likes her well enough. One day they're out skiing and Harry gets in an accident and breaks his leg. Seeing him vulnerable changes Joan's perspective on him and they end up happy together after all. The punchline: We go back to the guy who runs the matchmaking program, and find out that the supercomputer is far too busy with mission-critical processes to actually match the colonists up, so when nobody's looking he just draws names out of a hat.

This story was amusing but pretty slight. I saw the ending coming a mile away since there wasn't really anywhere else it could go, at least not for a writer who obviously isn't going to come out in favor of eugenicist arranged marriages. The execution could be better, but the idea that there are no predestined perfect matches and that relationships are what you make of them is a sensible one that I broadly agree with. I don't see any obvious reason why Le Guin wanted to bury this story; the prose is a little rough (by her standards, mind you, not by the standards of, say, Robert F. Young) but I don't think the story is significantly worse than the weaker entries in The Wind's Twelve Quarters. But as a writer I do understand that sometimes you look back at particular pieces and cringe for reasons that may not make sense to anyone else.

"Valedictory" by Phyllis Gotlieb

A trainee in a time travel project visits herself as a child.Her childhood was hard, but she doesn't say how, nor does she have a clear picture of what she hopes to accomplish. She imagines she might tell her younger self to hang on, that things will get better. But when she sees herself at recess, singing and playing in spite of everything, she realizes how deeply she'd underestimated her own resilience, and returns to her present without saying anything to herself at all.

This story hit me like a truck and left me in tears. You don't need to know exactly what the protagonist's struggles have been, because the author taps into a universal truth for those of us who went through a lot of shit when we were younger—no matter what happened, we survived it and we're still here. The prose is clear and evocative, and a light touch is used with the speculative premise so it doesn't overwhelm the character work.

This was by far the best story in the issue and I'd be interested to read more by the author. Has anyone read her stuff?

Essay: "Mort Weisinger: The Superman Behind Superman" by Sam Moskowitz

Moskowitz profiles the editor of Superman and related comics.This pretty extensive biography details how Weisinger got his start in science fiction, writing stories and editing fan and pro zines, before becoming instrumental in the growth of the superhero genre. I'm not a comics person so this wasn't of strong interest to me, but in the pre-Wikipedia age I'm sure it was nice to have a well-researched piece on an important figure from the fandom.

I did enjoy the recounting of the time in 1933 when Weisinger's mentor and co-editor Allen Glasser sold a story to Amazing that turned out to be plagiarized, causing the magazine's then-editor to freak out and refuse to work with anyone associated with Glasser. In turn this led Weisinger to shun Glasser and start his own zine with blackjack and hookers other friends. The drama! (I also liked Moskowitz's description of Glasser as "a slightly older scientifictioneer." There's a word we should bring back.)

"Furnace of the Blue Flame" by Robert Rohrer

In a post-apocalyptic future, a hero battles a dictator who controls the people by suppressing knowledge.The dictator claims to use magic, but the hero recognizes his powers as forgotten technology—the titular Furnace is a nuclear reactor which he uses to torture dissidents with radiation poisoning. The hero leverages forbidden scientific knowledge to sabotage it and break his control.

This was well-written, well-paced, and it held my attention. I appreciated that it didn't dance around pretending to be fantasy for longer than necessary. I thought it was interesting that the villain's stated motivation is to prevent a reignition of the wars that devastated civilization. He thinks if he can just terrify everyone into absolute obedience, war will never come again. I also thought it was smart to have the hero fully understand the risks of bringing technology back, believing that power must come with an ideology of mercy. The old fashioned sword-and-sorcery style of storytelling with a noble manly hero is played very straight, and that left me cold, but I'd say the piece is successful on its own terms even though it's not really to my taste.

"Zelerinda" by Gordon Walters

Two men, one with psychic powers, search for alien life on a planet with a weather system of liquid metal instead of water.It's hard to write a synopsis of this novelette because nothing happens in it. Various plot elements are introduced and none of them go anywhere. The psychic guy is afraid of being found out and locked away in a psionics research lab, but that never happens and his abilities have no impact on the mission. His brother was investigating the planet before them and disappeared, but they never find him, dead or alive. They think they find a structure, but it's just a cave. They come up with different theories about how life could exist on this world, but they're all wrong. There are no aliens, it's just a dead world with weird weather. The end.

This story is so long and so pointless that when it ended I felt actively angry that my time had been wasted on it. It takes ages for them just to get to the planet—why did we need all those scenes of the psychic guy being woken up to come to an emergency meeting and their boss waffling on forever??—and when they get there the search for life is full of unnecessary detail and repetition. The writing style also grated on me, especially the overly verbose and self-consciously "clever" dialogue. All the characters sound the same (just like the narrative voice, in fact) and have no development or real conflicts. You could write "liquid metal weather" on a post-it and get as much out of it as I got from this story.

Review column: "The Spectroscope" by Robert Silverberg

Silverberg reviews Starswarm by Brian Aldiss, The Best From Fantasy and Science Fiction, Ninth Series ed. Robert P. Mills, and Escape on Venus by Edgar Rice Burroughs.
Starswarm takes previously published stories and retcons them into a connected narrative with some edits and linking commentaries. Silverberg finds this project "misguided and lamentable" and the commentary "sententious and ponderously coy" but he likes a few of the stories as stand-alones.

He gives a glowing review to the Fantasy and Science Fiction anthology, naming "Flowers for Algernon" first among the standout entries and calling the book "a must for a science fiction library."

Silverberg had apparently panned Burroughs' other works as "unmitigated trash" and "subliterate claptrap," so it is with some sheepishness that he admits to liking Escape on Venus for its more lighthearted comic tone. "Mitigated trash and literate claptrap, I suppose—but fun to read."
pauraque: butterfly trailing a rainbow through the sky from the Reading Rainbow TV show opening (butterfly in the sky)
subtitle that didn't fit in the subject line: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants

Robin Wall Kimmerer is a botanist and an enrolled member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation. The "braid" of the the title refers to the interweaving of Western science with Indigenous knowledge to create a way of looking at the world that is stronger than either one alone. In a series of wide-ranging essays she elaborates on this idea from many angles, exploring the economic and cultural factors that lead us to feel cut off from the land that sustains us, and the consequences for our environment, our society, and our mental health.

I found the book effective at developing an intuitive sense of what she means and what it looks like to hold complementary truths and change our relationship with the planet. She argues that the problem isn't just seeing the environment as a possession to exploit, but also the common perception of "nature" as something separate from ourselves that we mustn't touch, like a fragile exhibit in a museum that we can only admire with our hands clasped behind our backs. Indigenous relationships with the land are mutual interactions, and active land management in the Americas long predates colonization. She points out that while those of us who aren't Indigenous can't appropriate those cultures, we can still cultivate a relationship of intimate reciprocity with the land we live on in our own way. I was struck by her comment that many North American settlers seem to have one foot on the land and one still on the boat, as if we're not really sure if we're staying. It's been a long time; maybe, for all our sakes, we need to start treating this like home.

The book is beautifully written, and struck me as deeply evocative of the Obama era in its themes of reaching across gulfs of misunderstanding and its appeals to hope. Kimmerer cautions that despair robs us of our agency, which was perhaps easier to say in 2013, but I believe the message is more relevant now than ever.

I have to admit that at close to 400 pages I think the book might be too long, and some of the later essays began to feel like they were reiterating earlier points rather than expanding upon them. It might read better if you interspersed the essays with reading other things rather than plowing straight through, but I have a hard time doing that so maybe it's on me. The book does offer a lot to think about and isn't the kind of material that can be digested quickly, and I expect I'll be thinking about it for a long time.
pauraque: drawing of a wolf reading a book with a coffee cup (customer service wolf)
This chronologically-earliest Hainish novel depicts the events leading up to the invention of the ansible, a device that allows instantaneous communication across any distance. Though it's this technology that eventually fosters the books' interstellar alliance, the science behind it is developed against a backdrop of interplanetary strife. The brilliant physicist Shevek comes from Anarres, a harsh desert moon organized on anarcho-syndicalist principles, completely collectivist. When his own people prove intolerant of his new ideas, Shevek travels to the planet Urras, a lush world of plenty, where he encounters capitalism and formal hierarchies for the first time. Here he hopes to finally finish his work, but first he must face the fact that the greatest barriers are not the expanse of space or thorny questions of physics, but the walls we build between ourselves and our neighbors, as well as within our own minds.

Re-reading this book was not the experience I thought it was going to be.

The part I remembered: capitalism as dystopia )

The part I forgot: gender politics (cn: sexual assault) )

The question I'm left with: what is this book actually about? )
pauraque: Picard reads a book while vacationing on Risa (st picard reads)
In this first book of a hard SF trilogy, nanomaterials expert Wang Miao is recruited to help investigate the suicides of several prominent scientists. His inquiries lead him to a strange VR video game called Three Body, in which the player is challenged to solve the mystery of why the game's simulated world keeps falling victim to unpredictable changes in climate that cause its civilizations to inevitably collapse. Interwoven with the book's near-future narrative is a story of the past, in which an astrophysicist who lost everything in Mao's Cultural Revolution is assigned to a secret military base that she comes to realize is dedicated to the search for extraterrestrial life. These two seemingly unrelated threads come together to reveal a multilayered conspiracy of world-ending stakes.

I had this on my TBR list for so long that I'd completely forgotten what it was about, and I think that worked out well for my experience of it. I never knew where it was going to go next, and I thoroughly enjoyed the ride. Liu has a flair for creating epic set pieces of jaw-dropping cinematic scope that nonetheless follow naturally from the speculative science. I consumed a lot of popular science media in the 2000s, specifically, so for me the science in this book felt... oddly nostalgic? Not that it's obsolete, necessarily, but the particular preoccupations of that era and what was cutting-edge are strongly represented here. It made me want to go read a Brian Greene book.

The translation by Ken Liu reads nicely and I appreciated the informative but not excessive footnotes helping with some points about Chinese culture and history. I love that they let him write an afterword about the translation process!

The book is definitely more interested in ideas than people, and it's particularly weak on female characters. I was not entirely surprised to hear that the Netflix adaptation makes some of the male characters women, including Wang Miao. (I guess it also changes the nationality of a lot of characters, which makes less sense to me since the Chinese setting seems crucial to the book's themes, but I haven't actually watched the adaptation so it's not for me to say how well it works.)

I do plan to continue with the trilogy, though I have a suspicion that it might turn out to be too pessimistic in its outlook on the future for my taste? But I guess it depends on where the story ends up. My library hold on the second book just came in.
pauraque: drawing of a wolf reading a book with a coffee cup (customer service wolf)
subtitle that didn't fit in the subject line: How the Unseen World of Plant Intelligence Offers a New Understanding of Life on Earth

Anyone who's observed a field of sunflowers turning their faces to the light or seen a Venus flytrap snap shut knows that plants react to their environment. Some species may also have lesser-known abilities, like changing the chemical composition of their leaves in response to predation, or mimicking the leaf shape of neighboring plants as if to camouflage themselves.

But the mechanisms by which these things happen are poorly understood. Research into how plants detect and respond to their surroundings has been hampered by popular works of fanciful pseudoscience, such as 1973's The Secret Life of Plants, which claimed that plants are spiritual beings that can communicate with humans and that they enjoy listening to music (but prefer classical over rock). That kind of association has made researchers understandably reluctant to investigate anything in the area of plant "intelligence" for fear of being dismissed as a charlatan.

I think in writing The Light Eaters, journalist Zoë Schlanger hoped to show that plant intelligence is a valid field of study where real science is being done. Unfortunately, I don't think she succeeds at all in separating the science from the pseudoscience. By giving a platform not only to serious studies but also to woo-woo ideas from discredited sources, and by offering breathless conjecture with as much enthusiasm as she presents rigorous evidence, I think she only does further damage to the field that she intends to support.

Cut for length and negativity. This book made me pretty mad! )
pauraque: Picard reads a book while vacationing on Risa (st picard reads)
Stories of Your Life and Others (which is a title that trips me up as if there's something syntactically wrong with it, though I don't think there is) is a collection of speculative fiction, consisting of high concepts developed in an outpouring of copious and inventive detail. Most of the stories are on the long side, verging on novelette territory. The best of them are well researched and thought through to the point of near-airtightness, thoroughly exploring questions like "what if historical scientific theories had been correct?" and "what would communicating with aliens really be like?" while leaving very few holes for the reader to object "but what about—?" As soon as you start to formulate whatever your issue is with the premise, Chiang addresses it. Having read a lot of speculative short stories lately, I have become very aware of how often sf authors will just state a cool idea and not develop it. Chiang's stories are the polar opposite of that.

Some of the pieces that I found less successful were missing the human element, tipping the balance between ideas and characters too far to the idea side for my taste. Chiang also likes to write about religious themes from an atheist perspective, and while this can produce interesting results, sometimes I felt that his outsider approach lacked insight and greatly oversimplified or distorted the concepts he was exploring. But all of the stories offer a lot to chew on and are fun to think about even when they miss the mark.

My comments on the stories may contain spoilers, because they are kind of hard to talk about without going into some detail.


"Tower of Babylon" (1990)

What if the builders of the Tower of Babel really could and really did build all the way to Heaven?This was my favorite story in the collection. I felt it set an extremely high (no pun intended) standard for pushing a concept to a jaw-dropping extreme while maintaining the focus on the experience of the humans in the story. I love the literalization of ancient concepts of Earth and space, having the characters climbing for months past the sun, moon, and stars. The setting is a perfect blend of fanciful worldbuilding and internally consistent logic. (Just as I was wondering what would happen if a star hit the tower, it was brought up!)

I also found it the most effective of the pieces that explored religion and atheism. Digging through the vault of Heaven and finding yourself back on Earth in an ouroboros... a man goes looking for God and finds himself back in the realm of man. Throughout the story, loving attention is paid to human ingenuity—I especially enjoyed the historically grounded descriptions of Egyptian stonework and engineering—and that prepares you for the conclusion that these are people who never needed God. They are doing it all on their own. (Though it could also be argued that God's contribution was the motivation for them to push their mechanical and logistical skills to the limit! If they can do this, what else can they do? How might the technology they developed for the Tower be put to other uses?)


"Understand" (1991)

A man who experienced brain damage undergoes an experimental treatment and becomes hyperintelligent. This starts out as "Flowers for Algernon" and then takes a leap into Babel-17, though it reverses Babel-17's order of things—language doesn't give him superpowers, but his ever-increasing meta-self-awareness and physiomental capabilities can't be contained within ordinary languages, so he has to make his own. It touches on similar ideas of going beyond human cognition, but goes into far more detail and specifics about all the new levels on which the protagonist's brain is working, from conscious control of autonomic functions to playing 5D chess with the stock market. Nothing is handwaved, almost to the point of tiring excess.

The most interesting part of the story is when the protagonist is challenged by another test subject who has the same powers he does, but different goals—while the protagonist just wants to see how far he can develop his own mind and doesn't care about anything else, his rival wants to use his powers to make a better world. Of course there isn't really such a thing as a benevolent dictator, but at least the rival has altruistic intentions. I think what's missing here is any discussion of why the characters' motivations differ so greatly. Since we don't know what either of these people were like before they became superintelligent, it's hard to tell what the story is trying to say.

The protagonist is extremely unlikeable, which I imagine is intentional given that his increasingly repugnant self-absorption is his downfall, but it limited the story's appeal for me. I would recommend this story as offering a wealth of ideas for people who want to write about superhuman perception and cognition, but not necessarily as a pleasure read.


"Division By Zero" (1991)

A mathematician disproves the consistency of arithmetic and becomes suicidally depressed. So, this is an allegory for losing your belief in God (this is stated in the text) and I think it doesn't work, because math and God are fundamentally different in kind. Math is a way of thinking about things, and if our current understanding of math were wrong, there would be another way of thinking about things that would be closer to right. Thinking and scientific inquiry do not stop just because one framework was incorrect, even if it is a very large and longstanding framework. But if there's no God, that doesn't mean there is another version of God waiting to be discovered; it means where you thought there was something, there's nothing. These scenarios are starkly distinct and I don't see how they can be likened.

The mathematician's husband, who is a scientist, though (gasp!) an experimentalist, repeatedly makes this point, and I don't think it is successfully refuted in the text. He asks if it isn't like when they discovered quantum mechanics and had to rewrite the textbooks, and she keeps saying "no, it's not like that, it's totally different" but why? Just saying it's different doesn't prove anything. Which is funny because rigorous proof is what the story centers on, so when you try to talk about that by handwaving everything, it doesn't work.

The most successful aspect of the story is the husband's POV, where his inability to understand what his wife is going through breaks his ability to empathize with her, to the point where he can't stay in the relationship anymore. That part works.


"Story of Your Life" (1998)

A linguist learns to communicate with an alien species and finds her own way of thinking is transformed. Holy shit, it's a story about doing linguistics that wouldn't make a real linguist die of cringe!! This piece is thoroughly researched and demonstrates fieldwork techniques that are used in real life to learn undocumented languages when the linguist and the informants do not have any common language to begin with.

A lot of things about this story made me think of Daniel Everett, a field linguist who wrote a book (Don't Sleep, There Are Snakes) about his experiences working with people in the Amazon. Everett started his career hoping to translate the Bible into new languages for evangelization purposes, but found instead that the things he learned from his linguistic informants made him question his own faith and change his worldview. The protagonist of "Story of Your Life" also has her understanding of the world deeply changed by learning the aliens' ways of speaking, thinking, and writing. This is another story with a Babel-17 flavor, though it's more nuanced and plausible. The alien language doesn't give her superintelligence, but it shifts her thinking about time and causality in ways that support her humanity rather than pushing her past it. This is an outstanding example of successfully melding a high concept with emotional resonance, as her new outlook helps her find peace and closure around the loss of her daughter.

It also struck me as a good example of a man writing a believable woman, including an empathetic and non-stereotyped depiction of motherhood. It made me feel like Chiang has close female friends who he actually listens to.

I will say it is a bit of a cheat to have your character outright state that a situation reminds her of the kind of thing Borges wrote about. (Though, now that I think about it... Borges did love to namecheck his influences in the text of his stories, so maybe it is appropriate!)

Anyway, after reading this I had to go back and dig up Daniel Everett's demonstration of monolingual fieldwork with a very patient volunteer, so here it is:



"Seventy-Two Letters" (2000)

Victorian scientists co-opt Kabbalah to create golem-like automata. (cn: discussion of antisemitism and violence) This story does a great job of evoking the vibe and attitudes of Victorian science, in both its optimism and its cruelty, and of showing us things the protagonist is far too naive to grasp. As soon as we see this magitech is being used to augment reproduction, we know it's going to end in a eugenicist nightmare, but the protagonist is shocked! Shocked! He only wanted to help the poor factory workers!

More subtly, the story assumes the reader is savvy enough to recognize how knowledge and power are being stolen from the Jewish community, and how little they can do to stop it. The protagonist is surprised to find Roth tortured, broken and defeated—but this only confronts him with the concrete, bloody reality of what is already happening to Roth and his people.

I appreciated the imaginative resolution to the theory of homunculi and their infinite regress, assuming every species has a finite number of generations before it dies out. It's a clever ending to have the characters essentially inventing DNA—the "letters" that spell out our identities.

I think this is the piece that would have benefited the most from a novel-length treatment, because there is a lot here and a lot more that could be said about it.


"The Evolution of Human Science" (2000)

A future academic paper summarizes the impact of superintelligent posthumans on science. Chiang wrote this for an issue of Nature that printed fictional academic papers, and I think it shows that he was writing under a tight wordcount constraint. It's quite short and I don't think that works very well for his narrative style, which thrives on copious detail. I would have liked to see characters living in this world, not just be told about it. Is it plausible that posthumans would be doing all the science and regular humans would be reduced to trying to interpret their results? I don't know, maybe? I don't feel like there's enough here to evaluate the thought experiment.


"Hell is the Absence of God" (2001)

In a world where God, angels, Heaven, and Hell are demonstrably real, a widower wishes to follow his wife to Heaven. Though creative and internally consistent, I don't think this story offers any real insight into religion. It assumes a vaguely Christian cosmology, but it's hard to argue that it really engages with what Christianity has to say about salvation since Jesus is nowhere in the story. The story posits that God is unjust and acts at random, but does any religion actually hold this tenet? If not, isn't it just a distorted, straw man version of religion?

I feel like the authorial perspective is so intensely atheist that the story is destabilized by contradictory assumptions. The premise "what if God were real?" is nonsensical unless you are an atheist, because for theists, God is real and many do not feel that there is any lack of compelling evidence! The depiction of Hell as exactly like normal life only makes sense if you don't believe in God in the first place. I mean, yeah, if you're an atheist, of course "the absence of God" is just normal life! No kidding!

I thought the story worked the best when it talked about the way people are held up as spiritual leaders, sometimes based more on what their followers want to see in a giver of wisdom rather than the content of that person's message. As the story shows, sometimes this takes the form of ableist inspiration porn. I also liked the depiction of people staking out places where angels appear and trying to get hit with a miracle, sort of like storm-chasers.


"Liking What You See: A Documentary" (2002)

A college campus debates a rule requiring students to turn off their brains' ability to perceive facial beauty. Though the author's position on this is fairly obvious (he's for it), I think he does a reasonable job of looking at it from different perspectives and imagining various reasons why people might be against it. The unconventional format of a documentary transcript is put to good use in that way, showing us interviews with different characters.

The story tries extremely hard to separate lookism from sexism, racism, colorism, and classism; Chiang really really really wants to talk about just lookism and not those other things, frequently struggling to get free from them even within the text. But I think what he's trying to do is impossible and only underlines the inherent and complexly knotted intersections. You can talk about facial symmetry all you want, but you're still not going to get away from the fact that a lot of beauty is not culturally universal at all and that it is only one narrow facet of how people are judged by the external.

The conclusion, which presents a new kind of "deep fake" version of a speaker that makes her seem superhumanly charismatic, is startlingly prescient for 2002 and was actually a lot more interesting to me than the core premise of the story.

I also think it might have been a good idea to reverse the order of this story and the previous one, because the stakes of this one are so much lower that it feels anticlimactic through no fault of its own.


I would like to add that this post is 2500 words long and took absolutely forever. /falls over
pauraque: butterfly trailing a rainbow through the sky from the Reading Rainbow TV show opening (butterfly in the sky)
subtitle that didn't fit in the subject line: The Natural World of Animal Sexuality

I didn't realize when I picked this book up that it's YA (which is entirely on me, because it literally has a sticker for a YA literature award it won on the cover) so it wasn't quite what I was expecting. It's intended to provide teen readers with a counter to the narrative that being queer is "unnatural" by describing the queerness found in nature. Examples include same-sex pair bonding in penguins, normative bisexuality in bonobos, reef fish that change from female to male and back again, intersex deer that form their own herds apart from bucks and does, and polyamorous geese. (The always fun "is poly queer?" question is left unaddressed, but in this context it fits the theme of pointing out that nature doesn't match the image of male-female pairs of animals marching onto the ark two by two.)

The book also discusses mainstream resistance to research in these areas, and the mental gymnastics some scientists have engaged in to avoid admitting that heterosexuality is not the best explanation for what they're seeing. Males mounting males? Uh, it's probably a dominance display! Or they can't find a female! Or maybe that is a female! While Schrefer acknowledges that we can't classify animals based on our own human constructs of queerness, it's equally inaccurate to project human heteronormativity onto them. Each species has its own reproductive strategies and social behaviors, which should be evaluated on their own terms. Heterosexuality is just one possibility, and more and more we're finding that it's not the most common one in nature. On a species level, bisexuality has some clear advantages, offering more opportunities for social bonding, alternative options to care for young, and increased reproductive success (for some species that adopt a "mate with anything you see" plan).

The chapters are interspersed with interviews with scientists who have published some of the work Schrefer cites, many of whom are queer themselves, but not all. (I appreciated the discussion with a straight cis male researcher about how he was able to publish on these topics without being accused of being "biased" like his queer colleagues were.) There's definitely a theme of "you can grow up to be a scientist even if you are not straight and white" which I appreciated.

Since this is YA, the tone is casual and there's a lot of humor and cute cartoony illustrations, as well as 101-level explanations of terminology and concepts. I am way too old to tell whether this would land for The Youth of Today, but I can see it being a good resource for kids who are inundated with bigoted and ignorant messages and might not have the knowledge to recognize them as such, or to reassure themselves that they don't have to capitulate to them. There are a lot of things in here I already knew, but also a few that I didn't, and there's a pretty extensive bibliography for further reading. The book could be a good gift for a nerdy and/or queer young person in your life!
pauraque: drawing of a wolf reading a book with a coffee cup (customer service wolf)
This book presents microbiology as ecology—the study of the natural habitat that is the body, and the tiny creatures that live in it. Each person and animal is an environment unto themselves, an island inhabited by a dazzling diversity of microbes which interact with their host and each other in a complex web of collaboration and competition. The immune system has been imagined as a military border guard attacking all invaders, but it may be more insightful to think of it as a national park service, managing the balance among species and culling only when needed. A macroorganism without its microorganisms isn't clean and healthy, it's a wasteland.

Multicellular life itself evolved from the union of originally single-celled species billions of years ago, and we've been multiplicitous ever since, our bacteria evolving inside us, and us evolving alongside them. Many animals can only develop their normal characteristics in the presence of their microbiome; if raised in sterile conditions, desert woodrats don't develop their special ability to feed on poisonous mesquite trees, and bobtail squid that should be bioluminescent remain dark.

Fair warning if you are prone to existential crises, this book might give you one. What does it mean to be one? If you can't function without your internal ecosystem of billions of creatures, in what sense are you separate from them? We can't even point to the genome as the marker of distinction, as genetic material from ancient strains of bacteria can pass into the host organism's cells and become part of its DNA. The book explores the possibility that the borders of biological individuality are blurrier than we imagine, and suggests that what we see as one person or one animal is in some sense an emergent phenomenon.

Yong's writing is clear and vivid, with good use of figurative language that gets his point across without overdoing it. He gives ample attention to the scientific process and the people who do the research, from the early development of microscopy in the 17th century through to innovative bacterial manipulations that prevent mosquitos from transmitting viruses in the present day. He's also skilled at navigating the controversies and unknowns of microbial medicine. There can be a lot of "woo" and breathless hype around things like probiotics and (yikes) fecal transplantation, but Yong is always careful to be evenhanded and manage expectations.

One area where he could have been more thoughtful about his presentation is in discussing claims that probiotics can "cure" autism and obesity. He is clear that these claims are overblown and medically irresponsible, and I wouldn't say he endorses the implication that neurodivergence is bad and all fat people need to lose weight, but I wish he had done more to explicitly challenge it.

He does a better job of sensitively handling the range of human differences in his later book An Immense World—which is what you'd hope for! I do think An Immense World clearly shows six years of Yong's growth as a writer and a journalist, but I Contain Multitudes is also an excellent book and well worth reading.
pauraque: butterfly trailing a rainbow through the sky from the Reading Rainbow TV show opening (butterfly in the sky)
This is a memoir in ten parts about the author's experiences of grappling with their identity as a queer and biracial person. As the title suggests, each essay is themed around an aquatic animal, finding metaphorical resonance either with the animal's own life or with the way humans have studied and interacted with it.

The book is well-written and thoughtful, but it didn't entirely land for me. Conceptually, it reminded me of The Anthropocene Reviewed, in that it interweaves science and history with personal experiences, and I think that comparison to a book that I loved for its multilayered nuance and perspective really highlights the limitations of a memoir written by someone in their 20s instead of their 40s. How Far the Light Reaches largely addresses coming-of-age topics like first love, first heartbreak, realizing your parents had lives before you were born, realizing your community has a history and your generation didn't invent queerness... And these are all completely valid things, but so much of it felt like Adulthood 101 to me, even if creatively presented. I don't think age is the only factor in how insightful a memoir is, but I do think it imposes a ceiling on how insightful a given writer's memoir can be, and I felt that a lot while reading this book.

Imbler actually acknowledges this limitation late in the book: "Each time I try to write this piece I feel differently about my body, my gender, myself. Each time I conclude that I must not be ready to write it; best to experience the thing and then wait a few years to reflect, the advice generally goes. But if I don't write it now, how will I trace my own evolution?" And I'm not saying they're wrong! I agree that self-examination in all phases of life is valuable and will pay off later! I just think I'm at the wrong place in my own life to fully appreciate a book that is this deeply rooted in being young.

I also think my experience of the book suffered a little from having recently read An Immense World, which is about understanding animals on their own terms, while How Far the Light Reaches only takes them as a jumping-off point to talk about human life. There is a lot of anthropomorphizing here, and while some of the human-animal connections made sense to me, others seemed like stretches, to the point where I felt the metaphorical device sometimes distracted from Imbler's points rather than enhancing them. (I should say, though, that there is a glowing blurb from Ed Yong on the cover of Imbler's book!)

All that said, Imbler is certainly a talented writer, and I look forward to seeing what they do next.
pauraque: drawing of a wolf reading a book with a coffee cup (customer service wolf)
"The majesty of nature," Ed Yong writes, "is not restricted to canyons and mountains. It can be found in the wilds of perception."

The truth of this statement is amply demonstrated on every page of An Immense World, as Yong takes us on a guided tour through Earth's perceptual diversity, examining the sensory abilities of spiders, dogs, ticks, elephants, octopuses, flies, birds, fish, whales, and many more creatures.

But Yong makes it clear up front that this isn't about childishly ranking which species have the "best" senses—each one, after all, has senses that are well-calibrated to what it needs to know to survive—but rather about challenging ourselves to imagine how others experience the world. From ultraviolet and infrared, to the Earth's magnetic field, to rippling wakes that seals can sense in the water long after the fish that left them has gone... there is so much that humans can never directly perceive, no more than a sighted person can see into the visual void behind their own head.

Read more... )

This is an outstanding work of popular science, and it would be an amazing resource for anyone writing about aliens, mutants, or fantasy creatures and wanting to do something interesting with their sensory abilities. I highly recommend it.
pauraque: Marina Sirtis in costume as Deanna reads Women Who Love Too Much on the Enterprise bridge (st women who love too much)
This is the final book in the trilogy begun by A History of What Comes Next and Until the Last of Me. It picks up in the 1990s, several years after the second book concluded with Lola taking drastic measures to end the conflict between the Kibsu and the Trackers once and for all. Due to her actions, the alien progenitors of the Kibsu and Trackers have now come to Earth, and they're looking for Lola's human-raised daughter Aster—as is the U.S. government, who have discovered Aster's extraterrestrial heritage. Aster's only ally is the Tracker Samael, who knows who she is and can teach her to use her latent Kibsu abilities. But can she really trust a man who has been her family's mortal enemy for a hundred generations? And can he trust her?

I had problems with almost every aspect of this book.

Worldbuilding )

Plot )

Characters (cn: description of gore) )

Themes )

All that being said, Neuvel does have an excellent sense of pacing, which made all of these books page-turners even though there were so many things I didn't like about them. I read the last book in one sitting, which is very unusual for me! I still think the concept was really cool, and I liked where I thought the story was going during the second book, but I think in the end it turned out that I just fundamentally disagreed with Neuvel about what makes these characters and this scenario compelling.

(Two side notes: 1. I did not plan to read two books in a row with protagonists named Aster, it just happened. 2. I never wanted to have to tag a book set primarily in the 1990s as historical fiction, but here we are. There are also chapters set in the Bronze Age, if that helps.)
pauraque: drawing of a wolf reading a book with a coffee cup (customer service wolf)
Before he became a novelist, John Green was a book reviewer, and since that time he has noticed that everyone has become a reviewer and everything in the world has become a subject for reviews. That led him to write this book, which is a collection of essays in the loose form of reviews, taking for their subjects everything from Halley's Comet to air conditioning to viral meningitis.

He notes that reviews are often actually little memoirs, conveying the reviewer's personal experience of their subject. That's very true of this book—Green has chosen subjects with meaning to him, and the essays are often confessional, describing times of struggle and isolation, and of connection and joy. But he also shifts focus frequently and fluently from individual experiences to historical and scientific contexts and to our profoundly interconnected human society. It's a personal book, but not a navel-gazing one.

He quotes other writers a lot in the book, and in the afterword he wonders if it was too much. But I don't think it's too much; I actually think it's expressive of one of the book's core premises, which is that the human world, for better or worse, is something we experience together. There are no bystanders, only participants. And the more voices we hear and read, the better we understand that. (Green's moment of self-consciousness about the quotes also made me think of another quote, this one from John Hodgman: "You are only pretentious if you are not sincere.")

The book also makes a case, sometimes implicitly and sometimes explicitly, against despair. Sometimes life is shit, and we all know that, but sometimes it isn't, and if you shut yourself off to the joy and hope and compassion that also stubbornly continue to exist, well... Green describes hope as something that is not just nice to have, but something that, for him, is literally life-saving. As a person who deals with depression, I can relate to that.

A lot of human misery is fueled by cherrypicking only certain facts that reinforce our worst fears, and by thinking that only negative perspectives are intellectually honest. The truth is that the world and its people are complex, and the more you look at them the more complexity you find, such that it's actually really difficult to generalize about them without lying to yourself. Green has clearly learned this from hard experience, and again it goes back to everyone becoming a reviewer. I think the book tacitly poses the question of what kind of reviewer you want to be and how you want to frame your own lived experiences—essentially, how do you take a bunch of stuff that happened and make meaning out of it? We all have agency in how to do that, though sometimes it goes unused.

Green's reviews end with a rating on a scale of 1-5 stars, and the way he uses that scale adds another layer of commentary that I think could be worthy of an essay in itself, but I am not going to attempt to imitate it. Suffice it to say that I really enjoyed the book.
pauraque: Marina Sirtis in costume as Deanna reads Women Who Love Too Much on the Enterprise bridge (st women who love too much)
This is the sequel to A History of What Comes Next, and is the middle book in the planned trilogy. I got it on an interlibrary loan, and the library they sent it from puts a slip of paper at the end with a space to rate the book and say what you thought of it, which is something I had never seen before, but I am a cooperative person so I gamely participated.


3/5: Unlikeable characters hold back what is otherwise an exciting and original story!

Since there's more room here, I'll elaborate.

Read more... )

The last book in the trilogy is set to come out this April, and even with all my caveats about this series, I am still going to read it because I'm dying to know how the story turns out.
pauraque: Marina Sirtis in costume as Deanna reads Women Who Love Too Much on the Enterprise bridge (st women who love too much)
For a hundred generations, a lineage of women called the Kibsu have lived on Earth, passing down advanced scientific knowledge from mother to daughter while secretly influencing the course of human civilization. Their mission is to turn humanity into a spacefaring species—by any means necessary.

In this book (the first in a planned trilogy), the Kibsu are closer to their goal than ever, manipulating events after the Second World War to encourage the incipient space race between the USA and the USSR. But the Tracker, a mysterious man bent on their destruction, is hot on their heels and getting ever closer to his goal too.

Things I liked about this book )

Things I did not like )

So yeah, this was quite a heady mix of aspects that I found exciting and fascinating, and aspects that I found offputting or way more disturbing than they needed to be. I am motivated enough to see the story play out that I do plan to read the second book. (The third isn't out yet.) Maybe I'll have a better time with it since at least I'll be prepared!
pauraque: photo of the planet Pluto showing heart-shaped glacier (pluto <3)
This was written as a companion to the TV series, which I have watched, but this was my first time reading the book. Each chapter corresponds to an episode, so there is substantial overlap in what they cover, but there's also some unique material and some areas that are discussed in more detail than was possible on TV. Like the TV series, the book covers a range of topics in astronomy, the history of science, and the search for extraterrestrial life.

Sagan's prose is a delight to read, always clear and engaging, with a charming knack for putting complex topics into relatably human terms. You can always hear his voice in his writing—he seems like someone who would have been a pleasure to talk to, always curious, always thinking about things from different angles, very humane and earnest. I often found myself reading with a big smile on my face.

Over the four decades that have passed since this book was written, some of its information has become outdated, but I still found it fascinating as a glimpse into the recent past of science. In 1980, Sagan could accurately write, "No one knows what wiped out the dinosaurs." He speculates that it may have been a nearby supernova(!). His enthusiastic discussion of the potential for the Arecibo telescope to search for and potentially communicate with alien intelligence is retrospectively kinda heartbreaking, since of course that telescope was recently destroyed by hurricane damage.

His overview of the history of science is also outdated in some ways, though you can see where he made attempts to counter the prejudices of his time. He does acknowledge that non-Western societies have made scientific advances and that no nation or ethnicity is inherently superior in intellect; if a particular people are credited with a discovery, that's only because someone had to be the first to think of it. But his overall perspective on the March of Scientific Progress is nonetheless quite Western-centric by today's standards. He accepts the existence of a medieval dark age when science was totally stagnant, though this is a pretty big exaggeration even if you only look at Europe, and outside of Europe it doesn't apply at all. He does point out that Europe's "age of exploration" was an age of apocalypse for indigenous peoples, but still casually references Columbus as a great explorer without caveats. As an '80s kid, I know this was just the way of things, and a lot of writers were much worse about it, but it is pretty jarring to read today.

One aspect of the book that has (sadly) not aged at all is the discussion of the possibility that the people of Earth will destroy ourselves before we even get a chance to see who's out there in the rest of the galaxy. In 1980, the looming threat on everyone's mind was annihilation by nuclear war, but we've certainly not found it difficult to come up with other self-destructive ways to abuse our technological advances. And violence fueled by irrational hatreds is as present in our lives as ever. I appreciated Sagan's insight that interpersonal violence and international violence are not fundamentally different, only different in scale. Both require the ability to devalue the lives of your fellow human beings.

Though this is heavy material, it's not presented as doomsaying. Far from it. Sagan strikes a good balance of acknowledging the seriousness of the situation while remaining optimistic that it is possible for us as a species to mature to the point where we will stop allowing hatred and apathy to determine our fate. We don't know how likely it is that an intelligent species can achieve this, because we only have one data point so far. All the more reason to do our best, as Sagan writes in his final chapter:
The Cosmos may be densely populated with intelligent beings. But the Darwinian lesson is clear: There will be no humans elsewhere. Only here. Only on this small planet. We are a rare as well as an endangered species. Every one of us is, in the cosmic perspective, precious. If a human disagrees with you, let him live. In a hundred billion galaxies, you will not find another.
pauraque: photo of the planet Pluto showing heart-shaped glacier (pluto <3)
NB: This is the UK edition of the book. In the US and Canada, the title is Space at the Speed of Light.


I know Smethurst from her excellent astrophysics and astromony YouTube channel Dr. Becky. This is her first book, a quick and easy take on some current topics in the field, including black holes, exoplanets, dark matter, the expansion of the universe, the exploration of Mars, and the formation of galaxies. The book is really short, just 120 pages, but it covers a good amount of territory for its length. It's nontechnical and conversational in style without being vague or jokey. It's like if you happened to be friends with an astrophysicist who knows you're not an expert but respects your intelligence.

I do like to keep up on science news, so there wasn't a lot here that I didn't already know (partly thanks to the author's own videos!). But this would be a good book for someone who wants to catch up on some of the latest developments that have come about in the last few years. I think it would be great for kids who are into space, too.

I also highly recommend her YouTube channel. She has the gift of presenting things clearly for a popular audience without sacrificing the details that make science interesting. I especially enjoyed this recent video about the development of the Big Bang theory:

July 2026

S M T W T F S
   1 23 4
567 89 1011
12131415161718
19202122232425
262728293031 

Tags