Here’s a brilliant idea for an anthology: collect essays about the changing face of war and war technology, then alternate them with short stories and novel excerpts from the cutting edge of military-focused sci-fi and fantasy.
Riding the Red Horse, edited by fantasy star Vox Day and Army Ranger vet Tom Kratman for Castalia House, is a tailor-made compromise for those time-pressed souls who find the consumption of unalloyed fiction to be too useless a practice in which to indulge. It’s also a treat for sci-fi readers who retain an interest in the world around them—and the two groups’ overlap is large enough to make it a very good idea indeed.
Every tale or essay is fronted by an editor’s introduction, placed conveniently before each piece rather than in some tedious index or intro; they perk up the reader’s ears for the key factual and speculative themes of the collection.
Essays are fully half the mix, with the fiction serving as not only pleasure reading but as exercises in imagining how the technological and population changes the essayists describe might play out in the future. The tone is set early on by William S. Lind’s discussion of the four generations of modern war strategy, in “Understanding 4th Generation War.”
Lind’s unsettling conclusion is that the U.S. military is stuck in the second-generation mindset used by the French in World War I, while our adversaries—particularly those who aren’t based in a state, i.e. the jihad—have moved on to an updated version of pre-nation-state warfare, where neither the battlefield nor the combatants are clearly defined. Lind writes:
We have no magic solutions to offer, only some thoughts. We recognized from the outset that the whole task might be hopeless; state militaries might not be able to come to grips with Fourth Generation enemies no matter what they do. …
“Wherever people go, conflict seems to follow, and one always prefers to be on the winning side—so we might as well be ready for the physics problems we’ll encounter if the conflicts move into outer space.”
His essay is preceded by a dramatic fictional illustration of the unpredictability of the near future of war, albeit a state-based one: Eric S. Raymond’s “Sucker Punch,” a near-future military tale in which an American attempt to stop a Chinese invasion of Taiwan is rendered both impossible and unnecessary by the gruesome new weapons both sides have in store for each other.
The American pilots’ disorientation is so stark as to be almost darkly humorous:
“Hey. What are those flashes from the tin cans?”
Blazer: “Cool off. We’re stealthed, and radar’s clear. They’ve got nothing in the air that can hit us at angels twenty.”
Blazer’s plane disintegrated less than three seconds later.
This is what future sci-fi is going to look like, this collection predicts: as nervous as its past, with future-tech tactical guesses mixed into the drama. (Although if you prefer your sci-fi laced with humor, the winner in the anthology is longtime Navy fleet veteran Thomas Mays’ “Within This Horizon”—with Rzasa’s solo contribution, “Turncoat,” as an oddly touching runner-up.)
This focus on military realism doesn’t surprise me in a Vox Day-branded anthology. What makes A Throne of Bones, the fantasy series that gave Day his name, outstanding is the weakness of his magician characters—which makes his military generals work harder, which is more interesting to read than the standard Robert Jordan-type fantasy plot wherein Rand Al-Thor points at your army and it disappears. The authors in this anthology are reclaiming the same logic for sci-fi; instead of seeing the limitations of physics as an inconvenience to be juked around, they turn them into the driving power of their story lines.
The stories and essays talk back to each other in this manner constantly; regardless of whether their predictions will be accurate—my own military and technological knowledge is too poor to place any bets—they result in a conversation so entertaining and stimulating that the reader feels most privileged to listen in, especially for an entry fee of five dollars.
Riding the Red Horse hasn’t been what one would call extensively reviewed in the SF press, but you know, I think we can live with that. This is just an excerpt from a fairly long and detailed review, so you’ll want to read the whole thing.
UPDATE: We were just informed that one of our authors has been nominated for the 2015 Prometheus Award. Go to the Castalia House blog to find out who it is!
In case you’re wondering what an anthology edited by a diversity goblin would look like, the question has been answered.
The Mammoth Book of Warriors and Wizardry. This is a new anthology in the Mammoth series published by Running Press in the U.S. and Robinson in the U.K. Trade paperback in format, 515 pages, $14.95 price and Sean Wallace is the editor…. The cover: a photograph of a dude with chain mail grasping his sword hilt. This could have easily been a cover for a romance book. Remember the days when we had covers by Frank Frazetta, Jeff Jones, or even Ken Kelly?
When I heard about this anthology last year and saw the roster of writers, I joked to a friend that it looked like the product of a United Nations diversity seminar. “She was a tall woman clad in armor the color of dead metal,” makes you begin to wonder about English as a pseudo-second language. Just what the hell is dead metal, let alone the color?
The stories are all very nuanced takes on diverse, under-represented cultures and perspectives, where there isn’t even one extraneous word and every character is pitch-perfect and [insert the usual pink flattery drivel here]. This description made me laugh out loud:
“The one story that encapsulates this anthology is Carrie Vaughn’s “Strife Lingers in Memory.” A wizard’s daughter narrates the return of the exiled prince of the realm who overthrows a tyrant. That is covered in a couple of paragraphs. The rest of the story concerns the hero wandering the castle at night, cowering in the corners, and bawling his head off. The wizard’s daughter, now the queen, goes out to comfort him every night.”
Sounds fantastique, does it not? Read the whole review. And speaking of anthologies, Castalia House should have some news to announce on that front by the end of the month.
UPDATE: RPG fans won’t want to miss Jeffro interviewing Ron Edwards, the designer of the groundbreaking RPG Sorcerer and the co-founder of The Forge.
It is commonly argued today that civilian firearms can do nothing to prevent tyranny because the armed citizen is helpless against the military and law-enforcement machinery of the modern state. But the Nazis never believed this; Adolf Hitler said in 1942 “The most foolish mistake we could possibly make would be to permit the conquered […] peoples to have arms. History teaches that all conquerors who have allowed their subject races to carry arms have prepared their own downfall by doing so.
Halbrook shows how the Nazis treated the Germans themselves as “conquered people”; they took the prospect of armed resistance very seriously and acted with brutal efficiency to thwart it it by disarming any civilian they identified as a political enemy or potential rebel. In this they were successful; while armed anti-Nazi resistance movements sprung up all over the rest of Europe, there were none in Germany where weapon controls had been tightest.
The Nazis built their edifice of repression on a law of the preceding Weimar Republic requiring universal weapons registration. The law’s architects realized that these records could be dangerous in the hands of “extremist groups” and required them to be securely stored at police stations. This proved extremely convenient for the Nazis, who used the registration records as a targeting list.
The lesson for today is clear: the individual right to bear arms has to be defended with zeal even when a nation’s political circumstances look relatively benign. By the time the will to repression takes visible form, opposing gun control has already been deferred too long.
And it is only argued by those who know nothing of 4GW. There are sufficient guns even in most “gun-controlled” European countries to wipe out the soldiery and the police forces overnight.
Although it must be noted that the very concept of “gun control” is bordering on being completely outdated, thanks to 3D printing technology. Perhaps that is why the globalist elite is not only increasingly anti-democratic, but anti-technology as well.
RIDING THE RED HORSE is an anthology of military science fiction, speculating on what the wars of both the immediate and the distant future will look like. It alternates between nonfiction essays on the nature of war and short stories. None of the essays or stories were bad, but my favorites were:
-Jerry Pournelle’s HIS TRUTH GOES MARCHING ON takes place on a distant colony planet. Later some refugees are assigned to the planet, to which the original inhabitants take offense, and the situation unfolds with predictable violence from there. Basically, it’s the Spanish Civil War IN SPACE! The story follows an idealistic yet nonetheless capable young officer who gradually loses both his illusions and his innocence during the fighting.
-William S. Lind’s essay on “The Four Generations of Modern War” rather presciently pointed out some of the serious problems with the Iraq War. His thesis postulates that we are entering a period of history where technology enables non-state organizations or even individuals to wage wars effectively, much like the Middle Ages when the state did not have a monopoly on war. (A good example of that is the Hanseatic League, an organization of merchants which actually defeated Denmark in a war during the 14th century, or the various civil wars of medieval France and England where powerful noble families fought each other with no central authority able to restrain them.) While I lack the expertise to determine whether the essay is actually correct or not, I nonetheless think it helpful in trying to understand the various conflicts in the world today. Admittedly the hack around THE INTERVIEW film, which took place after I started writing this review, caused millions of dollars in economic disruption and is likely a good example of fourth-generation warfare, regardless of whether a government, a non-state group, or simply a group of disgruntled employees did the hack.
-WITHIN THIS HORIZON, by Thomas A. Mays follows a Space Navy officer in a distant future where the major powers have developed space fleets, and therefore armed conflict has moved the the asteroid belts and the comets. Ground-based forces are left to wither. The Space Navy officer in question, after sustaining serious wounds, is reassigned to the terrestrial water navy, and figures his career is over. The enemy, however, has other ideas, and the story is an excellent tale of integrity in the face of cynicism.
I think one of the chief arguments for the strength of the anthology is the way in which readers and reviewers keep citing different stories as their favorite. Steve Rzasa’s “Turncoat” was my favorite, and there are more than a few who agree with me, but it’s remarkable how many other of the 14 different fiction stories have been cited by others as the anthology’s best. No doubt Mr. Roberts will appreciate Mr. Moeller’s opinion on the matter.
The essays are better than the stories, which is amazing given the stories. The book also includes a bibliography for each contributor and that is even better. This is a must-buy for anyone interested in science-fiction or military history, let alone military science-fiction.
I have been a fan of William Gibson ever since reading how Johnny was a very technical boy. Even as his novels have gotten more literary, and less coherent, I’ve always enjoyed reading them. So, I was quite pleased when The Peripheral came out recently; a new William Gibson novel is always something to be celebrated in my book.
And it’s good. The novel well-written, the plot is intricate, the sensibilities are cool (if perhaps indicative of being influenced by Hollywood’s new fascination with the rural American South), and, as always, Gibson presents a vision of the future that is somehow more plausible than the average science fiction writer’s. His skill, I think, is to present something between dystopia and the present; perhaps one might describe his perspective as dystrendic. Or in this case, dystrendic to catastrophically dystrendic, as the book spans a small spectrum of futures for reasons I would find difficult to describe even if it wasn’t a spoiler of sorts.
Gibson’s style, never florid, has become increasingly sparse as his disinclination to provide detailed description has now stripped down his dialogue. While this has the effect of making the conversations flow more realistically, the combination of the two frequently leaves the reader slightly confused as to what is going on. It’s very important to pay attention to even small details, because that’s all you’re going to get; he’s not going to go back and explain things for you. And while I rather like this approach, it’s perhaps not optimal for a book with a plot that would already be challenging to follow.
The story is about a young woman who witnesses a real murder while in a virtual environment. The story expands considerably from there, and since there is no way to reasonably do it justice in less than two or three pages, I won’t even try. As is often his wont, Gibson bring in elements of technology, art, and shadowy corporations in a sophisticated manner.
However, after a year of confronting the growing divide between Pink SF and Blue SF, it is readily apparent that Gibson is of the Pink school, and to his detriment. He is among the best of the Pink school, to be sure, but The Peripheral wind up being shortchanged by Gibson’s resort to several Pink SF conventions.
Chief among them is a mostly non-portrayal of religion that is retarded to the point of being embarrassing. We are supposed to believe that the complete collection of rural Southerners, including a number of military veterans, are as completely and utterly irreligious as wealthy elite Brits on the future arts scene. Moreover, there isn’t a single mention of football… in the American South of the 2030s. The only nominally religious individuals are the fictional version of the Westboro Baptist Church, although to Gibson’s credit, he recognizes their lawyerly activism for the financial scam it is.
However, even their nominal Christianity leads to an unfortunate demonstration of Gibson’s moral vacuity, as he literally equates silent, public, and entirely legal protest that takes a judgmental position with gassing a large group of people with lethal psychotropic drugs. Because doing the latter would make them “assholes” like the former. This was, to put it mildly, an astonishing ethical metric.
The worst aspect of the book, however, is the phoned-in characters. He gets the military aspects more or less correct, but completely fails on the Southern ones. And the female protagonist doesn’t even rise to the usual level of a man with breasts, she is little more than the book’s Macguffin, a character sans agency to whom things happen, and things more incredible than Cinderella. She is often praised for possessing attributes that she doesn’t show in any way; it’s almost Mary-Sueish at times. Throw in the fact that all the bad guys die instantly whenever shot at by the female superagent, who eventually shows up to absolutely no reader’s surprise and outperforms even the Marine veterans, and the reader occasionally finds himself dismissively rolling his eyes.
I also have to note that happy ending is so prodigiously stupid with regards to the characters that it boggles the mind. It gives absolutely nothing of interest away to note that the entire mixed-sex group, none of whom have shown ANY sexual interest in each other throughout the entire book, abruptly pair up and live happily ever after. Ye cats.
It is a pity that Gibson appears to be unable to turn his keen eye for observation towards the points where his ideological assumptions depart from reality, as it would have made for an objectively better book. if he had been able to do so The Peripheral isn’t a bad science fiction read, but it will be quickly forgotten, and William Gibson could be, and should be, better than that.
Specifically, The Book of Feasts & Seasons. You’ll want to read the whole thing:
This week I’m reviewing a title that’s seasonal in nature, although the seasons it deals with occur across an entire year rather than a small part of the year. I’ve not read much of Mr. Wright’s work, but what I have has been better written and more original than much of what’s currently being published.
The same is true here. These stories have a great deal of depth, both in the characters they’re about and the concepts with which they deal….Wright is an author who isn’t afraid to delve into deep topics. Some of the themes here dealt with the nature of God, forgiveness, kindness, racism, sacrifice, and second chances. A number of authors these days try to deal with serious themes and issues in their fiction. Few are as accomplished or as entertaining as Mr. Wright.
The Book of Feasts & Seasons is one of the best and most thought provoking books I’ve read in the past year. I highly recommend it.
It’s perhaps worth noting that Mr. Wright’s The Book of Feasts & Seasonshas a 4.9/5 rating. But I find it a little surprising that of the six stories the reviewer deemed worthy of mention, none of them were the one I consider to be the best, namely, “The Parliament of Beasts and Birds”.
Having been deployed to Iraq twice, I naturally retain much interest in events in the Middle East, especially Iraq. Before my first deployment, I was a true believer in “nation building”, the ascendancy of democracy and the superiority of the U.S. military. Such is no longer the case. By my second deployment, the first two were at the back of any priority list and I concentrated on training my fellow soldiers so that we could all just come back alive. I still thought the U.S. military was the best, but had niggling doubts due to our inability to truly defeat our foe. With recent events and ISIS rolling over the sham of a nation we left behind in Iraq and the constant destabilization of states in the region by our own governments backing, I was coming to a lot of conclusions. This book showed me that those conclusions had already been reached long before they started crystallizing in my mind….
I cannot stress [enough] the importance of reading this book. We continue to repeat the mistakes of the past again and again. We need a new way forward to meet the coming challenges.
I think it is very important to observe that while the politicians and the military-industrial complex may be dubious about the 4GW framework (about which more later today), the soldiers and Marines who have been deployed and possess actual combat experience tend to intuitively grasp its relevance. For those who are particularly interested in gaining a more complete understanding of 4GW and its implication for the 21st century, you may wish to obtain a copy of the lecture that started it all in 1988, prior to the famous article that was simultaneously published in the Marine Corps Gazette and Military Review.
Fortunately, then-Major Greg Thiele, USMC, had the foresight to video a subsequent repeat of that first lecture, called The Four Generations of Modern War, given extemporaneously at Quantico to a group of USMC officers, which he graciously sent me a few weeks ago. I transcribed the lecture, edited it to correct a minor historical infelicity or two – it was indeed General Weygand, and not Gamelin, with whom Churchill was meeting in June 1940 – and we are now making the combined audio/ebook available exclusively from the Castalia House store for $3.99.This, and other forthcoming audiobooks will not be available on Audible for the time being because we intend to keep our audiobook prices considerably lower than Audible insists on charging.
However, please keep in mind two things. First, the audio quality is not what you’d get in a studio. Thanks to Vidad cleaning it up, you will have no problem understanding any of it, but it is a live speech and not a studio-recorded narration. Second, if you are a newsletter subscriber, you will have the opportunity to obtain it free in the future as part of our New Release program, so you may want to keep that in mind.
A new review of QUANTUM MORTIS: A MIND PROGRAMMED:
James Jesus Angleton famous described the eternal battle between espionage and counterintelligence as “a wilderness of mirrors.” I thought of that phrase while reading A Mind Programmed, the latest installation in the Quantum Mortis series of science fiction stories. Few people or things are what they seem in this story, and even when you see what they really are, you still have questions….
I’m new to science fiction, but I enjoyed A Mind Programmed. Though a bit dialogue heavy and slow in the middle, the book spun a good yarn and kept my interest throughout.
And there are several Amazon reviews of John C. Wright’s ONE BRIGHT STAR TO GUIDE THEM worth reading, such as this one by Kyle Robinson:
Given my fondness of fantasy literature, it might surprise some acquaintances to learn that I never read much fantasy when I was a child. I never read Narnia, Redwall, Harry Potter, or any of the other books in the genre. (I only read CS Lewis’s Narnia books earlier this year, in fact.) This places me outside of Wright’s target audience, perhaps, and gives me something of an outsider’s perspective on his story One Bright Star To Guide Them.
Wright has consistently delivered thought-provoking and compelling stories. Awake In The Night Land was a truly spectacular accomplishment and even if The Golden Age trilogy (which is essentially progressive rock in literary form) had a steep learning curve, the sheer imagination behind the series more than earned my continued respect for Wright. City Beyond Time – though book-ended by stories I felt were less compelling than the excellent tales in between – did not disappoint either. But after reading the first Everness book, I wondered if One Bright Star would end up retreading the same kind of story Wright told in that duology. And despite the appealing premise I was concerned that my lack of context would make this story more difficult to enjoy, despite the intriguing premise
The answer is a resounding No. One Bright Star is pure magic, radiating with the virtuosity of a writer whose literary muscle and knack for inscribing heartfelt emotion work in splendid unison. The world and its characters are made so compelling that you, the reader, should not be surprised if your lap is dribbled in drool upon finishing the story, as you salivate for more. One Bright Star is more immediately enjoyable and tightly orchestrated than the comparatively ponderous Everness, and Wright knits his story with a tangible melancholy that proves he is more than capable of making statements in fantasy that rival his science fiction output….
One Bright Star has one of the best endings I’ve enjoyed in recent memory, and the fact that he draws from the reader such emotion toward his characters and world in such a brief time is a testament to his skill. By the end of the story, it’s easy to forget that you have spent only a few dozen pages in Wright’s world, rather than hundreds. And despite the fact that I never read Wright’s inspirations as a youth, I was thoroughly walloped by the poignancy and emotional power of the ending, which should be all the more stirring for those who have dwelt within the worlds of Lewis, Tolkein, and Cooper.
You know a novella is really good when the chief complaint of the more critical reviews is that it isn’t longer:
I was sure a homage to Narnia written by John C. Wright would be right up my alley. However, I found myself disappointed by this novella. There’s a great story to be told here, and flashes of it shine through, but I think the novella is just too short to really flesh it out…. I’ve seen enough of Wright’s work to know that he’s capable of brilliantly expanding on the things that I felt were rushed, but for whatever reason he chose not to. 30 more pages would’ve made this book a masterpiece.
The ironic thing about this criticism is that the novella is already an expanded version of the short story originally published in F&SF magazine. I have no doubt that Mr. Wright could easily expand the novella to a full novel, and indeed, a full trilogy covering both the childhood events and subsequent events. And perhaps he will one day do so, but the fact is that he really said everything that needed to be said in the novella.
Very good sci-fi noir. There have not been many good detective sci-fi noir novels. Effinger did some good near future books, but that was about it.
The setting here is a military police detective who, due to his world’s laws on embassies, is a member of a section assigned to police crimes involving embassies and governments in exile. Personal AIs, flying cars and power suits, body enhancements, police robots. However, the world has crowded mega towers, and a dark side that is well explored. Very well written, tight scenes. Enjoyable.
It should be interesting to see the pinkshirts attempt to dismiss ESR’s criticism of their best mediocrities as the conventional white Christian conservative’s bigoted distaste for the saintly Other:
The introduction to The Year’s Best Science Fiction and Fantasy 2014 (Rich Horton, ed.; Prime Books) gave me a terrible sinking feeling. It was the anthologist’s self-congratulatory talk about “diversity” that did it.
In the real world, when an employer trumpets its “diversity” you are usually being told that hiring on the basis of actual qualifications has been subordinated to good PR about the organization’s tenderness towards whatever designated-victim groups are in fashion this week, and can safely predict that you’ll be able to spot the diversity hires by their incompetence. Real fairness doesn’t preen itself; real fairness considers discrimination for as odious as discrimination against; real fairness is a high-minded indifference to anything except actual merit….
If I believed the title of this anthology, I’d have to think the SF field was in desperate shape and fantasy barely better off. There are maybe five of the SF stories that will be worth remembering in a decade, and at best a few more of the fantasies. The rest is like wallpaper – busy, clever, and flat – except for the few pieces that are actively bad.
I’d ask what the anthologist was thinking, but since I’ve seen the author list on one of his other anthologies I don’t have to guess. For truth in advertising, this should probably have been titled “Rich Horton Recruits Mainly From His Usual Pool of Writers There Are Good Reasons I’ve Never Heard Of”. And far too many of them are second-raters who, if they ever knew how to write a decent F/SF story, have given that up to perform bad imitations of literary fiction.
In SF all the writing skill in the world avails you naught unless you have an idea to wrap your plot and characters around. In fantasy you need to be able to reach in and back to the roots of folklore and myth. Without these qualities at the center an F/SF story is just a brittle, glossy surface over nothing. Way too many of these stories were superficial cleverness over vacuum.
This got me thinking about why I find Patrick Rothfuss’s very popular THE NAME OF THE WIND to be virtually unreadable. I like to keep my eye on what is genuinely popular in the genre and to learn from it what I can. But I’ve tried to read it three times now, in circumstances where I was travelling and had literally nothing else to do but read, and each time I found myself turning to anything else I had on hand rather than subject myself to any more of it. But, at the same time, I recognize that an awful lot of people genuinely love it and think very highly of it. How is this possible? Why are my perceptions so out of harmony with so many other readers? This pair of conflicting Amazon reviews, in combination with ESR’s post, may explain the apparent contradiction. The first review is by well-known fantasy author Robin Hobb:
Well worth your precious reading hours
It seems to me that every year there are more books I want to read and less time for me to read them. Because my time is limited, I’m guilty of picking up the books by my favorite authors first, and fitting in new authors only when it’s convenient.
Due to a stroke of luck, I’ve had an advance copy of The Name of the Wind by my bedside for over six months, just waiting for me to open it. Unfortunately, deadlines of my own kept getting in the way. But in a way, it’s lucky that I didn’t crack this book until just a few days ago. If I’d had this tale to distract me, I’d have been even later getting my work done.
I loathe spoilers, so I’m not going to discuss the plot of this book. I will say it has all the things that I demand of a book. The characters are real, the action is convincing and it has a compelling story to tell.
One of the things I like best about this book is that the magic is absolutely rooted in the book’s world. Nothing seems contrived; the consistency is excellent.
The characters are very well realized. That means that when the protagonist does something clever, it’s believable. And when he does something youthfully dumb, it rings just as authentically true. Because the characters are real and the magic is true to its own world, I closed this book feeling as if I’d been on a journey with an entertaining new friend, rather than sitting alone looking at words on a page.
This one is well worth some of your precious reading time. I’ll wager that the books to follow it will also be.
It’s strange, because I found Hobb’s books perfectly readable, if not particularly interesting or coherent. The second is a hilarious critical parody-review of THE NAME OF THE WIND that I found to be considerably more accurate than Hobb’s review:
My name is Kvothe. My awesome heroic account narrated by me is pure truth, I assure you. Do not worry folks. You’re looking for a review. I’m giving you one. We’ll get to that in a minute. But first, find some time to listen to me.
You don’t have time? What makes you think you can leave here, knowing what you know? (I said this exact sentence in my book.)
Now you want to listen to me after I gave you a death threat? Good. When you take note, do not presume to change a word I say. (I also said this in the book!)
I’m gifted. Not just gifted in one way, I’m gifted in every freaking way. I’m skilled with music, acting, medicine, chemistry, alchemy, things you might call magic. In fact, anything cool, you name it.
When I was only about twelve, I devoured in months lessons grown-ups would take years to learn. I had flash-fast, word for word, page for page memory. They ended up paying me instead of charging me for tuition. I was the youngest in quite a while. In barely a week, I owned a teacher so hard, embarrassed him in front of the class, making him hate me for life. In return, I was punished unfairly but also rewarded with a rank students took years to earn – I only took a few days. I saved women. One of the most beautiful girls in the school even invited me into her room, which I refused, of course. I was too pure to do that. I bested my rivals every time we confronted each other, in this book, at least. They accepted me as one of the musical genius, and I was the youngest to gain that recognition, even after my rival played dirty and tried to ruin my performance. By hurting him, I earned another rank. And the best part is, it didn’t stop there.
You see, I was brilliant. Not just your run-of-the-mill brilliance either. I was extraordinarily brilliant. (I said exactly this in my book too. Word for word!)
Not yet apparent in this book, but printed on the back cover, I have stolen princesses back from sleeping barrow kings. I burned down the town of Trebon. I have spent the night with Felurian and left with both my sanity and my life. I was expelled from the University at a younger age than most people are allowed in. I tread paths by moonlight that others fear to speak of during day. I have talked to Gods, loved women, and written songs that make the minstrels weep. My name is Kvothe, not Mary Sue. You may have heard of me.
You see, I said I would give you a review, but I don’t even have to. Because by the time you reach here, I’m pretty sure you get the point.
So, on the one hand we have people who read for style in a solipsistic manner. They adore idealized Mary Sues such as Kvothe, because the way they read a book is to insert themselves in the protagonist’s position and experience the book through him. It is reading as an emotional experience. It may even be described, in some cases, as retroactive teenage wish fulfillment. (Those tidbits about owning the teacher, the unfair punishment, and turning down the pretty girl speak psychological volumes.) Call it Thalamic Reading, to borrow ESR’s term. On the other had, we have people who read books from a more detached and intellectual perspective. They engage in Cerebral Reading. The style of the prose is less important to them, except as an aesthetic frosting, because they don’t feel any need to bond seamlessly with the protagonist and they are more concerned with the story, the concepts, and the underlying meaning of the story.
In my experience, Rothfuss and Rowling and Weber are three exemplaries of the former. Lewis and Tolkien and Wright are three exemplaries of the latter. In the case of the former, the reader knows exactly with whom he is supposed to identify, whose emotions he is expected to share: Kvothe, Harry, and Honor. With whom is one expected to identify in the case of the Narnia novels? Or Middle Earth? Or the Night Lands? The question cannot even reasonably be answered in any straightforward manner. And while there is some crossover between the two forms of reading, the emotional and the intellectual, the more one is oriented to one reading form, the less one will be able to enjoy the other. And while Pink SF/F is not necessarily Thalamic and Blue SF/F is not necessarily Cerebral, the subgenres do tend to fit more comfortably with one form than the other.
I am not a Monster Hunter International fan. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I WAS NOT a Monster Hunter International fan before this, the fifth book in the Monster Hunter series. While I stand second-to-none in my respect for their intrepid best-selling author, I found the first four books in the series to be a little too vanilla urban fantasy for my tastes. Violent vanilla, to be sure, even XXXtreme vanilla, but vanilla nonetheless. Which isn’t to say that they are not fun and entertaining; they are, in fact, exactly the sort of books that harbor great appeal to red-blooded men who like big guns and pretty women with big breasts, and who are willing to defend civilization and society as the hard men standing between the monsters and the innocent.
Translation: I liked Mack Bolan back in the day too. This doesn’t mean I ever confused it with great literature. Or even interesting literature.
I found Correia’s Grimnoir Chronicles to be of considerably more interest. Unlike most Western authors, Correia is able to write a respectful portrayal of the Japanese warrior culture without coming off as the sort of obsessed round-eye who puts on a red kimono to drink ocha every afternoon. (I am an East Asian Studies major who spent a semester abroad in Tokyo, and I still speak a smattering of Japanee. So I knew a few guys like that.) I also found that the Grimnoir characters, despite their superhuman abilities, were more fully developed and interesting than their MHI counterparts.
So, what was fascinating about reading Monster Hunter Nemesiswas to see the way Correia upped his game and took the book to a higher level. The way in which he did so was rather remarkable, because he somehow managed to improve the depth and scope of his writing without sacrificing even one iota of the violence-fueled action of the previous books.
In the first four books, Agent Franks is little more than a superweapon and an repetitive joke: “Oh shit, it’s Franks!” As with most street drugs and urban fantasy series, Correia finds it necessary to keep raising the oppositional ante in order to maintain the reader’s interest, which might seem a little conceptually challenging considering that the big boss at the end of the third book was an extradimensional Elder God and the collateral damage involved a considerable portion of the city of Las Vegas.
And so he raises the ante, but not in any of the cheap and obvious ways so common to lesser authors. Instead, Correia provides a backstory to his take on Frankenstein’s monster that is both more interesting and comprehensive than the customary one. This backstory, which is directly integral to the plot, is deftly revealed in vignettes as the current story plays out.
For the first time, Larry Correia draws upon his religious background, and in doing so he brings both intellectual depth and emotional poignancy to the world of Monster Hunter that it previously lacked. Franks is revealed to be far more than monstrous construct, he is shown to be a complex, noble being whose inhuman sociopathy is the logical consequence of his alien values, motivations, and restrictions.
Larry Correia may not win the Hugo Best Novel Award in 2014 for Warbound. But his Monster Hunter Nemesis is likely to be a contender for next year’s award. This is a very good book by a best-selling author who is confident in his ability and is beginning to hit his stride.
Characters (9/10) Correia fleshes out existing characters both major and minor; his use of Heather the red-headed werewolf as a reluctant government agent desperate to earn her PUFF exception is particularly adroit. One of the major antagonists is well-portrayed, the other remains more than a bit of a mystery, and is alarmingly convincing in his ruthlessly efficient use and abuse of the bureaucratic power struggles between the various federal agencies.
Prose (7/10) One doesn’t read Correia for the stylistic pyrotechnics or the obscure literary allusions. It’s akin to contemplating the fuel-efficiency of a Lamborghini. That being said, his prose is smooth and easy, regardless of whether he is describing the splattering of a reanimated collection of corpses by a large, fast-moving vehicle or lovingly detailing the chambering action of a Glock* pistol. As an adept storyteller, Correia’s style serves as simple lubricant for the story, just as it should be. He does have a certain lamentable habit of throwing in the occasional conversational rimshot, all of which will no doubt one day appear verbatim in the television series. Hey, if it works for Richard Castle….
Plot (10/10) A centuries-old contract between Franks and the U.S. government is being jeopardized by a grasping bureaucrat with a savior complex who rejects the idea that people in the past had legitimate reasons for doing as they did. Adroitly ties everything from Milton and Mary Shelley and Ben Franklin into the Monster Hunter mythos.
Ideas (8/10) Correia is moving well beyond the usual werewolves and vampires of generic urban fantasy. He is drawing effectively upon history, his tactical training experience, and his religious background, to say nothing of his accountant’s eye view of government bureaucracy. Monster Hunter Nemesis is more than a mere action novel, it is an intelligent and occasionally thought-provoking action novel.
Text Sample: There was a commotion on the other side of the tent flap. Guards gave challenges, IDs were presented, and then there was a rush of apologies. The flap opened and several men entered the giant command tent. The first through were members of the MCB’s elite mobile strike team. They were hardened warriors who Franks had served with many times, and behind them was an innocuous looking, middle aged man in a cheap suit. Franks’ arms were chained to the chair, so he dipped his head slightly. “Sir.” “Why is my second in command tied up?” Dwayne Myers, Strike Team SAC, demanded. “What’s the meaning of this?” Foster’s response was about as belligerent as could be expected. “Agent Franks is charged with disobeying direct orders, violating security protocols by taking a civilian witness into a monster containment area, and then breaking into the Nevada storage facility to steal seized evidence.” “Is that true?” Myers asked. Franks nodded. That sounded about right, but Myers already knew most of the details, since it had secretly been his idea to begin with. Franks had taken Owen Pitt to Dugway because he’d thought the Monster Hunter’s psychic powers could help their investigation. He’d taken three ancient arcane weapons from Area 51 in order to fight the Nachtmar; Lord Machado’s ax, the Attilius gladius, and the Black Heart of Suffering. That last one had done the trick, and destroyed the creature. “When he was confronted about his actions, Franks attempted to kill MCB Director Douglas Stark.” Franks snorted. The five men covering him with drawn weapons backed away nervously. They were only following orders, but all of them had worked with Franks at some point, so they were aware that shooting Franks might upset him. “I’ve known Agent Franks for twenty years. He doesn’t attempt to kill anyone. Holster those side arms and unchain him. Franks is coming with me.” Myers had recently been demoted, but had been the Acting Director before that, and he was still probably the most respected senior agent in the Bureau. “Hold on,” Foster demanded. “Franks is in STFU custody.” It was almost like Foster thought that invoking the name of the ultra-secret Special Task Force Unicorn would strike fear into the federal agent’s hearts. Myers glanced around theatrically. “Really? Because these appear to be MCB men, and last I checked sworn MCB agents don’t take orders from an operation that doesn’t exist.” The MCB didn’t officially exist either, as it was just a line item on the Department of Homeland Security’s budget, but in this business there were levels of not existing. “Director Stark is—” “Hiding from this giant clusterfuck caused by his lack of leadership,” Myers said. “Our good Director must have forgotten that is against regulation 72 dash B to turn MCB handling of a level five containment to another entity, such as yours, without authorization from the President. So in the meantime I’m the highest ranking member of the MCB available, and I’m making the call. Cut Franks loose. I’m going back outside to try and contain the unholy mess you amateurs made out of one of America’s most popular tourist attractions, before every news agency in the world records video of a street full of ectoplasm and dragon parts. Is that understood, Mr. Foster?” It was clearly understood, but not particularly liked. “We’re not done, Myers.” “Oh, I believe that we are.” Myers glanced over and confirmed that the men had put their weapons away. “Remove Mr. Foster from my command tent.” “I’ve got it,” Franks said. One of the men had been looking for the key to the padlock, but Franks simply took up the chain in his bare hands and twisted until a link snapped. By the time anyone realized what was happening, the chains had already hit the floor and Franks had caught Foster by the arm and effortlessly lifted him off the ground. Foster winced in pain as Franks carried him to the nearest flap, and hurled the Unicorn operative into the street.
*Let no one henceforth say Larry Correia is homophobic. No doubt the LGBT community appreciated the little shout-out.
