Friday 21 October 2011

Forty Signs of Rain

By Kim Stanley Robinson

This is apparently a science fiction book. It says so on Wikipedia, so it must be true. If true though, it's using a definition that's very broad indeed. It is certainly fiction, it involves much science, and has events in it that have not happened, but might. Does this mean every James Bond knock off or paramilitary gun fantasy is also SF?
As is often the case with a KSR book there are half a handful of viewpoint characters, who interact a bit, but for the most part carry on and do their own thing. Most of them are connected in some way with the National Science Foundation, a perfectly genuine American institution which manages research funding, and may or may not work in the manner described in the book. In the book at least, the NSF seems rather directionless, funding science, but reacting to proposals rather than driving things forward.
The whole book is set against rising ecological... troubles, none of which are more than a step away from today's news, which seeing as how the whole thing is set against the US political establishment involves quite a lot of bashing heads against brick walls.
As well as the NSF types there is a senator's policy gonk, who I assume to look pretty much like Josh Lyman, some bhuddist monks from a made up island nation which is only a fraction above the Indian Ocean on a good day and assorted scientists who might or might not be about to get a grant.
Being a Kim Stanley Robinson book there are a lot internal monologues and more than a few points where people enthusiastically tell each other things they know really. Being concerned by climate change and the American government's inability, or unwillingness, to do anything about it, there's a pretty much continual risk of being terribly preachy, not to mention riddled with trademark KSR infodumps, but KSR is one of the few writers who can pull this kind of thing off. I would probably feel differently if I wasn't pretty sympathetic to the political message, but the book works for me.



The Name of the Wind

By Patrick Rothfuss

Hmm, it's been a while since I last wrote on of these hasn't it? The problem with big bulky Fantasy epics is that they take an age to read, they need some digestion before I'm in a position to say anything worthwhile about them and unless I'm rigorous about getting something up, it's easy to slip out of the habit.
Still. Name of the Wind. Part one of a trilogy, won some awards I'm not in a position to look up right now, subject of a frankly premature re-read series on Tor.com and generally well received. Good book, even if it took me a while to really engage with it.
Our hero is the greatest magician of his age, long since retired, now an innkeeper, hiding from his enemies and his past self. Clearly a well known hero, since all the villagers tell stories about his exploits, without ever realising that he's pulling them a pint. Into this comes the greatest biographer of his age, looking for the tale that will reveal the lost truths of the mighty Kvothe, and over three days the story of his life will be told.
The first day tells of his childhood life as a travelling minstrel, until his family are killed by a demon with a particular downer on folk music, after which he survives as a street urchin, then a university student and budding hero, ultimately slaying a drug addled dragon.
Stockly formulaic as that sounds, there's a bleak depth to the world that raises it above the common herd. It's implied that the rather cozy world of student life with occasional draconic interludes has been destroyed, with waves of demons (apparently indifferent to folk music) overrunning the country. So far it is unclear how, presumably to be revealed in the unpublished third volume.
Must admit though, it fits generic lit-fic plot number one perfectly: old man remembers past loves, victories and betrayals. Hopefully the next will stretch it a bit.