Rosebud by Paul Cornell: review

4/5 stars on Goodreads

Rosebud by Paul Cornell

Rosebud is a sci-fi novella that takes place in a pebble-sized spaceship somewhere around Saturn in the far future. It’s manned by consciousnesses of what used to be humans—except for one of them who is an AI construct—and they’ve been there for hundreds of years, working for a corporation that apparently rules the earth. They are happy to serve.

Then they encounter something unexpected: a pebble even smaller than their ship that emits no light and blocks their communications to earth. The crew sets to explore. Or do they? Or have they? Or did they lose communications after all?

Who even are they?

Told in the point of view of Haunt, an AI construct of computer games presenting as a goth made of smoke, this is a story about time. Whether or not it’s real, simultaneous, and/or malleable—and who is there to alter it. The alien pebble takes the crew, Diana, Huge, Bob and Quin to their pasts (Haunt doesn’t have one), and the reader is shown in a few short pages why the humanity and the crew are in their current state (a human woman, a ball of hands, a balloon, and a swarm of insects, respectively, except when they’re not).

This wasn’t an entirely easy novella to get a hang of, but it was interesting and even amusing at times. The ending is good, though the reader is left to make their own conclusions about what it means. Is this a one-off event, or has the crew been stuck for centuries with the pebble, constantly altering the state they and the past are in. And does the answer even matter.

I received a free copy from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Tower of Mud and Straw by Yaroslav Barsukov: review

5/5 stars on Goodreads

Tower of Mud and Straw by Yaroslav Barsukov

Tower of Mud and Straw is a short fantasy novel (or a long short story) that tells an interesting and complex story in the limited space it’s given. I received a free copy from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Shea Ashcroft is a disgraced politician who is ordered to the provinces to oversee a construction of a gigantic tower. Feeling sorry for himself, he decides to make sure it’s built fast so that he can return to the queen victorious. But this dream soon crumbles. Dangerous alien technology is being used for building the tower, and he has no choice but to remove it, halting the project. Humans are furious, but aliens rejoice: they tell a story of a similar tower that caused a portal to open and destroy their world. But Shea is a bit wishy-washy person and easy to persuade. A promise of a high position in court makes him return the alien technology to start the construction again—only to discover that the aliens were right. There is a portal forming. Now the choice becomes between destroying the tower and his future, or letting the portal destroy everything.

Alongside the main story there is another of Shea’s sister Lena who has died because of the alien technology, which dictates much of Shea’s decisions. He meets another Lena, an alien woman opposing the tower and they fall in love—or at least he does. His decision to continue building the tower seals Lena’s fate, and Shea is left with the realisation that he has failed two women he has loved. So how to atone?

The ending is fairly self-evident after a certain point; there’s only one way it can go for the tower. Shea’s fate, however, could’ve gone either way. The choice suits a short story better than it would’ve suited a long novel, though I kind of wished there would have been another way out for Shea.

This was an excellent story that could easily have been a longer novel too; the world is rich and the politics that are only hinted at here are complex. The writing style was sparse, a little too sparse at times; it could’ve used some fleshing out in places, especially when it came to describing sequences of events. But that, too, suited the short form just fine. All in all, a great one evening’s read.

 

Kafkaesque

I read a short story by Haruki Murakami called Samsa in Love that appeared in the New Yorker yesterday. It tells the story of Gregor Samsa who wakes up one morning and finds to his surprise that he has turned into a human. Everything feels odd to him. His body has become soft, he finds it difficult to walk with only two legs, and dressing up is impossible because he doesn’t know how to use his hands. He has no idea how he has got that way – the house is empty, abandoned in the middle of breakfast, so he can’t ask anyone. He isn’t completely ignorant. He understands that he is human and he rues that he hasn’t been turned into a fish or a sunflower. He is afraid of birds. All these worries he will put behind, though, when a locksmith arrives in the form of a hunchbacked girl and, as the title suggests, Gregor falls in love. The end is very hopeful, even though there is a hint of a war brewing.

Kafka: Metamorphosis

It’s a wonderful story and a great homage to Kafka’s Metamorphosis (1915). That, of course, tells the opposite story. Gregor Samsa, a travelling salesman, wakes up one morning to find that he has turned into a giant insect. He doesn’t question how it could have happened, nor is any explanation given. He is abhorrent to his family who doesn’t understand that he has retained some of his humanity despite his looks. Little by little, though, he begins to deteriorate and becomes more insect-like. Eventually, the family can’t take it any longer and – dutifully – Gregor dies. The end is very hopeful in this story too; his parents and sister who had relied solely on Gregor’s income have learned to take care of themselves, and it’s possible that Gregor’s sister, Greta, might see herself married one day.

I’ve had to read Metamorphosis twice before; first at school and the second time at the university. On both times, it was important to learn how to analyse a novel, to identify its climax and turning point, and its motives and themes. Thus pressured, it was difficult to simply read and enjoy the story. Not much of it had remained with me either.

Inspired by Samsa in Love, I read Metamorphosis today and enjoyed it very much. I didn’t give a thought for novel analysis. Instead, I tried to identify some of the details Murakami had used in his story. Gregor’s family send for a locksmith at the beginning of Kafka’s story that then isn’t needed; that the locksmith arrives in Samsa in Love could suggest it takes place right after Gregor has first turned to an insect. Maybe the family has abandoned the house in horror having discovered the transformation that is then reversed in their absence.

Samsa in Love could take place after Gregor’s death too. At the end of Kafka’s story, the family leaves the house for a day of fun, ignoring their cleaning lady’s amused announcement that the creature has been taken care of. Maybe she had noticed that Gregor had turned back to human. Gregor in Murakami’s story seems used to being an insect so perhaps he had been that way for a long time already.

Both stories are great. Murakami’s language is fresher and his expressions are more forward, but Kafka’s story isn’t in any way hampered with the old-fashioned tone. Both are worth reading. Kafka has endured for almost a century already; only time will tell if Murakami’s homage has similar staying power.