Tag: books

The 50 best SF/F books and/or series

After much discussion of NPR’s 100 greatest science fiction and fantasy works, I was moved to construct my own list of what I consider to be the top 50. As with all such lists this is somewhat arbitrary, nevertheless it should be taken as the complete, definitive, and conclusive final word on the matter. I see no purpose in honoring innovation for innovation’s sake when others have subsequently done it better, for example, John Polidori’s The Vampyre and Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein have both been long surpassed as examples of their type, whereas the same is not true for Tolkien’s oft-imitated The Lord of the Rings or Orwell’s Animal Farm. In some cases, I have chosen to highlight a single book, Dune, for example, whereas in others I have chosen to judge a series as a whole. Night Watch is easily the best of Terry Pratchett’s books, but it cannot be judged fairly in isolation as one has to have a fuller understanding of Ankh-Morpork to fully appreciate the novel. I have paid zero attention to book sales or authorial reputation, I have read all of the books on the list, and I have tended to rate genuinely amusing books more highly than others might due to the additional degree of difficulty involved.

I further note that if you happen to disagree with the reverence shown to Mr. Ray Bradbury, you are clearly inhuman, possess no soul, and should consider returning to your home planet. If you have not read or heard of Tanith Lee, people should throw rocks at you on the street until you rectify the error. On the other hand, if you have not read Hesse, that is understandable since he’s not traditionally considered a genre author. But do yourself a favor and read the book anyhow. And yes, Edgar Allen Poe should by rights be on here somewhere near the top, but the metric is books and/or series, not authors and/or short stories.

1. The Lord of the Rings, JRR Tolkien
2. Dune, Frank Herbert
3. Dandelion Wine, Ray Bradbury
4. The Chronicles of Narnia, CS Lewis
5. The Glass Bead Game, Hermann Hesse
6. Watership Down, Richard Adams
7. The Dark is Rising, Susan Cooper
8. The Secret Books of Paradys, Tanith Lee
9. The Sprawl Trilogy, William Gibson
10. The Cthulhu Mythos, HP Lovecraft

Read the rest of the list at the Black Gate.

You CANNOT be serious!

The NPR readership’s top 100 SF/F novels:

1. The Lord of the Rings
2. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
3. Ender’s Game
4. Dune
5. A Song of Fire and Ice
6. 1984
7. Fahrenheit 451
8. The Foundation trilogy
9. Brave New World
10. American Gods

It’s a reasonable start, as you can list the top ten without having to bother mentioning the authors. But which one of these is not like the others? Neil Gaiman is good, but American Gods does not merit inclusion at that level. And either Dandelion Wine or The Illustrated Man should be in Fahrenheit 451‘s place. I think A Song of Fire and Ice is also overrated, especially in light of the way the series has declined over the last two books. Top 100 yes, top 10, no way. So is Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy; it’s top 50 material, not top 10. I quite like Douglas Adams, but I don’t see how anyone can possibly argue that Hitchhiker’s is better, in any way except that it is funnier, than Watership Down. In fact, I don’t even consider Hitchhiker’s to be Douglas Adams’s best work; his Dirk Gently novels are much superior.

The astonishing omissions, not from the top 10, but from the entire list, are The Chronicles of Narnia – absolute top 10, if not top 5 – Susan Cooper’s The Dark is Rising and Lloyd Alexander’s The Chronicles of Prydain. Piers Anthony’s Xanth is far too low, and while Terry Pratchett shows up twice with two Discworld novels – why, when every other series is listed by series – the best Discworld novel by far is Night Watch. And no Lovecraft? Madness. No Silverberg? A little more explicable, but still. No Guy Gavriel Kay? Understandable, but still a serious omission. It was good to see Zelazny there, but I would rank his Lord of Light higher than Amber.

It was interesting to see both the Harry Potter and Twilight series missing from the list. I very much agree with leaving them off it, but I was still surprised they weren’t there. I was, however, mystified to see Jim Butcher’s Codex Alera on the list while The Dresden Files was omitted. I enjoyed the former, but there is no question that the latter is the better series. And how does The Silmarillion make the list while The Hobbit doesn’t? And finally, there is no way Robert Jordan’s ghastly The Wheel of Time series should be on the list at all, much less ranked at #12.

The Prince of Porn

That title isn’t even remotely fair. But who can be expected to resist such a perfect conjunction of rhetoric and alliteration? R. Scott Bakker’s The Prince of Nothing is not an erotic trilogy, it is an interesting, original, large-scale fantasy series that happens to incorporate, to its detriment, some pornographic elements and an amount of inept philosophizing. But since my review sparked a relatively lively debate over whether this is a fair and accurate characterization of the three novels concerned, I thought it would be sensible to appeal to the judgment of an esteemed intellectual who has provided us with a fail-proof method of determining whether a movie is pornographic or not.

I speak, of course, of Umberto Eco and his famous essay “How to Recognize a Porn Movie”:

Pornographic movies are full of people who climb into cars and drive for miles and miles, couples who waste incredible amounts of time signing in at hotel desks, gentlemen who spend many minutes in elevators before reaching their rooms, girls who sip various drinks and who fiddle interminably with laces and blouses before confessing to each other that they prefer Sappho to Don Juan. To put it simply, crudely, in porn movies, before you can see a healthy screw you have to put up with a documentary that could be sponsored by the Traffic Bureau.

There are obvious reasons. A movie in which Gilbert did nothing but rape Gilbertina, front, back, and sideways, would be intolerable. Physically, for the actors, and economically, for the producer. And it would also be, psychologically, intolerable for the spectator: for the transgression to work, it must be played out against a background of normality. To depict normality is one of the most difficult things for any artist – whereas portraying deviation, crime, rape, torture, is very easy.

Therefore the pornographic movie must present normality – essential if the transgression is to have interest – in the way that every spectator conceives it. Therefore, if Gilbert has to take the bus and go from A to B, we will see Gilbert taking the bus and then the bus proceeding from A to B.

This often irritates the spectators, because they think they would like the unspeakable scenes to be continuous. But this is an illusion on their part. They couldn’t bear a full hour and a half of unspeakable scenes. So the passages of the wasted time are essential.

I repeat. Go into a movie theater. If, to go from A to B, the characters take longer than you would like, then the film you are seeing is pornographic.

Since both the excruciating crusade to Shimeh and Prince Kellhus’s journey to find his father bordered on the interminable, with the only relief being the occasional battle, philosophical pontification, penetration of the prostitute Esmenet by various parties, or the torture of a Tleilaxu Face Dancer(1), the matter can clearly be regarded as settled. It is also worth noting that in his essay, Eco points out how “portraying deviation, crime, rape, torture, is very easy”. Ergo, reliance upon them in a literary work is not evidence of a work’s brilliance or greatness or realism, but rather testifies to the author’s incapacity, laziness, deviancy, or limited moral palette.

We know that Bakker is neither incapable nor lazy. Aside from his fictional meanderings, we have no reason to believe Bakker is any more deviant than anyone else. He’s Canadian, not Japanese, after all.(2) So, we can safely conclude on the basis of last February’s discourse on uncertainty and amorality that it is his limited moral palette, which stems from the affectation(3) that uncertainty is the highest moral good, that is responsible for Bakker’s frequent resort to pornographic elements in The Prince of Nothing.(4) There is, after all, little room to appeal to the reader’s emotions or moral sensibilities on the basis of a character’s insufficient uncertainty, indeed, the limitations of this peculiar moral palette is such that it is difficult to even justify any action at all on the part of any character intended to be presented as heroic or ideal.

(1) Consult skin-spy, whatever.
(2) True fact: 95% of all the world’s weirdness comes from Japan. You’ll see more deviance on a public bus in Tokyo than in a Toronto S&M dungeon.
(3) And it is an affectation, nothing more. It’s always amusing to see how rapidly a post-moralist devolves into vulgar morality when forced to choose between his steadfast disapproval of a traditional moral judgment and his professed uncertainty.
(4) Note that I wrote the following months BEFORE reading any of Bakker’s fiction: “Let a hundred nihilistic anti-heroes blossom into the murderous child rapists of their creators’ moralblind fantasies.” That’s how perfectly predictable his “creatively transgressive” attempts to shock the reader into perceiving black amid a thousand shades of grey were.

I am the anti-hero

I certainly would have made a point of reviewing R. Scott Bakker’s books sooner if I had any idea that his response to my review would prove so vastly amusing:

This brings me to what I was most curious about, back when: What would Theo make of the thematics of the trilogy. To be honest, I thought this was where he would spill the most pixilated ink. Why? Because reading his blog, I realized that in many respects I had written the trilogy for him, for people who really, really, really think they’ve won the Magical Belief-and-Identity Lottery.

And this, if Vox Day is to be believed, is Theo in a nutshell. The Grand Prize Winner. Reading his blog, I had the impression of drawing circles inside of circles:

Fiscal conservatives…

Social and fiscal conservatives…

White, social and fiscal conservatives…

White, male, social and fiscal conservatives…

White, male, English-descended, social and fiscal conservatives…

White, male, English-descended, Anglican, social and fiscal conservatives…

I’m sure the list goes on, but this was as far as I was able to go. What began as snobbish hilarity quickly turned into consternation and a kind of baffled, dare I say? disgust. Discussions of partitioning America along more ‘rational’ identity-driven lines, of the ‘behavioural profile of African-Americans,’ of the ‘proper place of women,’ of the forced resettlement of immigrants, of the ‘flaws of democracy’ made me realize that Theo had more than a few fascistic leanings. I’m still shaking my head.

While I always appreciate a proper Genetic Fallacy, even more amusing is an inept one. I had no idea that I was a socially conservative Anglican, but now that I have been apprised of this I shall certainly do my best to acquire a Book of Common Prayer and start writing regular paeans to Sarah Palin and Rick Perry. I’m not precisely sure what “fiscal conservative” is supposed to mean nowadays, as this tends to sound rather like “gravity conservative” or “knows how to use an Excel spreadsheet” in light of the recent events in political economy. But I am white, male, and of English descent, to be sure. He could have even quite reasonably added “arrogant bastard” and “chick magnet” if he felt that would help his case somehow.

Of course, the Dread Ilk will no doubt see the humor inherent in the idea that the author of The Morality of Rape could possibly be “really, really, really offended” by its fictional depiction. Apparently Bakker didn’t get the “rape apologist” alert.

For all that he attempts to strike a contemplative pose, Bakker reveals a parochial and Panglossian view of the world as well as an ironic failure to contemplate its harsh and brutal reality even while attempting to portray it. And it is entertaining indeed to see the erstwhile champion of a thousand shades of grey proving my previous point about his adherence to a conventional substitute morality; on what basis could an amoralist possibly justify consternation and disgust? Aesthetics? As for the idea that a quad-lingual expatriate who has lived everywhere from Japan to Italy is an extreme example of parochialism, well, I can’t say I’m terribly concerned about what a Canadian who grew up in Ontario, went to university in Ontario, did grad school at Vanderbilt, and then moved back to Ontario happens to think on the matter….

His ideological ignorance is as nonsensical as his failure to understand the difference between diagnosis and prescription. Being one of the better-known libertarians in the media, #25 at the last ranking if I recall correctly, I am much, much farther away from any sort of fascist leanings than Bakker, whose politics appear to be fairly similar to those of the historical Italian Fascisti. And I should very much like to see Bakker attempt to defend ideas such as democracy being flawless, material sexual equality, and so forth, as it would likely prove even more entertaining than his inability to understand the aesthetic value of morality in fiction.

But all of this is beside the point. Either my criticism of his work stands or it does not. Is my review fair? Of course it is. I wouldn’t sacrifice my critical integrity simply to slam someone I disliked intensely and I don’t dislike Bakker. I don’t even know him. The more significant question is if my review of The Prince of Nothing is more accurate and relevant than those that have attempted to lionize Bakker as the third coming of George R.R. Martin. That, I leave to the readers to decide.

Bakker is a talented wordsmith. He is a very good world builder. He is more intelligent than the average genre writer, historically literate, and reasonably well-educated. Unfortunately, he is also an incompetent and juvenile philosopher who subscribes to an outmoded view of art. The latter tends to insert itself in the way of the stronger elements of his writing, particularly when it comes to the characters. Preaching no more lends itself to secular fiction than it does to religious fiction and should Bakker ever decide to control his instinctive desires to lecture and transgress, he will be the better writer for it.

But that is no concern of mine. It makes absolutely no difference to me if Bakker chooses to heed the criticism I have offered or not. I didn’t write the Black Gate review for his benefit and I am quite accustomed to most people ignoring me, regardless of whether I publicly advise them to buy gold at 323.30 (2002) or predict a $43,300 fall in housing prices (2008). I don’t expect Bakker to agree. I don’t even expect him to understand.

Instead of resorting to an ineffective ad hominem response, it would have been much more interesting if Bakker had simply explained why he felt it was so vital to show so much of the sex and rapine that fills his work, what it adds to the story, and why he feels his philosophical meanderings add to the story rather than detracting from it. However, give Bakker credit for correctly anticipating that I would like his work. I did. Being a fan of epic fantasy, I merely find it to be disappointing that he refuses to aim higher.

Review: The Prînce of Nöthing

About twenty years ago, I was at a used bookstore and I picked up what looked like an interesting medieval spin on James Bond.  It was set during the period of the Crusades, but appeared to be conceived as an action-thriller series rather like The Executioner, Mack Bolan.  I started reading it, but around page 30, when the slave girl sent by Saladin to spy on the Crusaders was in full throat enjoying her third rape at the hands of her captors, I suddenly realized that the book was not a historical novel but rather one of those strange 70’s porn novels with a thin veneer of historical fiction.  A little research indicates that the book was probably the fifth book in the Crusader series, Saladin’s Spy (1986), written by an author very familiar to Black Gate readers, although he published it under the pen name “John Cleve” rather than Andrew J. Offutt.  I hadn’t thought about that book for years, until I was casting about for a way to explain the epic fantasy of R. Scott Bakker’s series entitled The Prince of Nothing.

Read the rest at the Black Gate.

A Dance with Dragons review – no spoilers

It was interesting to read George R.R. Martin’s latest so soon after seeing HBO’s A Game of Thrones and reading two fantasy series that some have attempted to compare to Martin’s epic, The First Law by Joe Abercrombie and The Prince of Nothing by R. Scott Bakker. My first thought upon simply viewing the size of the tome was that Martin is clearly suffering from the same disease that inflicted Stephen King and JK Rowling before him. It would appear that some time in between A Storm of Swords and A Feast For Crows, Martin came down with a bad case of morbus nemendatorus. This is the illness which strikes an author after he has become so prodigiously successful that he no longer sees any need to pay heed to an editor. It can be diagnosed on sight by the simple measurement of the thickness of the first book in the series and comparing it with that of the last book in the series. After reading A Dance with Dragons, it is abundantly clear that Mr. Martin has not yet recovered from it.

Read the rest at the Black Gate.

UPDATE – Matthew David Surridge, who is one of the best critics in the SF/F genre, offers a substantially different take on the novel.

A failure of atheist cheerleading

Apparently Miss Myers didn’t get the message that all books written by New Atheists are to be blindly defended, tooth and claw, rather than criticized for the flaws that are apparent to any intelligent reader. I was both impressed and vastly amused by her scathingly dismissive review of Sam Harris’s The Moral Landscape, as it was even harsher and more contemptuous than my own review of it.

So, to summarise:

1. Utilitarianism is right, but not any more justifiable than anything else. But who cares what other people think, anyway?

2. Because utilitarianism is right, we don’t have to be loopy post-modernists.

3. Science can tell us what makes us happy. Here’s a smattering of scientific studies about the brain.

Why in the hell do they give out book deals so easily? This book isn’t about convincing others, or providing novel ideas. It’s about pandering to atheists with very little knowledge of philosophy and ethics and an abundance of arrogance, telling them science is with them, and then reiterating how immoral people who like FGM and throwing acid in girls’ faces are and how we don’t have to listen to them because We Are Right. This is nothing but a convoluted rehashing of utilitarianism that still falls to the same old criticisms, and an immense waste of time unless you really like a good ignorant circlejerk.

It would certainly be interesting to see Miss Myers review Sam Harris’s two previous books, to say nothing of the other books I addressed in The Irrational Atheist, with the same skeptical eye. Regardless, it appears she will make a more challenging champion of atheism than her father ever has because she is willing to pay attention to the words as written and to think for herself rather than to simply parrot centuries-old talking points and froth at the mouth like some sort of performing bearded clown monkey.

It appears that I wasn’t the only one to notice the similarity in our conclusions concerning Harris’s book. Unbelievable, PZ’s daughter is the female version of Vox Day. What’s next? anti-feminism, repeal of women’s right to vote, border control and Austrian economics?

We can always hope that sweet reason will triumph, even if we harbor few expectations of it. And certainly, the intrinsic problem of utilitarian consequence pointed out by Miss Myers is not dissimilar to the famous Austrian explication of the impossibility of socialist price calculation. I must say, however, that she was perhaps a little unfair to Sam Harris in failing to give him credit for at least attempting to make a necessary case that so many other atheists have avoided, and in some cases, even claimed to be irrelevant. Ironically, given my past suspicions about him, Sam Harris may in some ways have turned out to be the most intellectually honest of the evangelical atheists. His blithely candid arguments are at least relevant, even if they reliably reveal his carelessness and inability to construct a valid argument on solid foundations.

Checking the metric

After publishing RGD in 2009, I was asked to list some of the metrics that would indicate that I was wrong about the USA having entered the Great Depression 2.0. One of the more important ones was an increase in state and local tax revenues. So, it was interesting to read this report from the U.S. Census, which tracks annual state government tax collections.

State government tax collections totaled $704.6 billion in fiscal year 2010, down 2.0 percent from the $718.9 billion collected in fiscal year 2009. Although 2010 total state revenue figures have yet to be released, in 2009 total state tax collection accounted for 64.0 percent of the total state government revenue.

In 2010, 11 states reported a positive increase over the previous year’s total tax collections, up from five states in 2009. The reasons for each state’s year-to-year increases vary. For example, in the case of North Dakota, increased tax revenue was largely due to strength in severance tax revenues, which are taxes imposed for the extraction of natural resources. However, North Carolina’s revenue increase was largely driven by sales and gross receipts tax.

Four states experienced a decrease of 10.0 percent or greater in year-to-year tax collections. Prior to 2009, no state had year-to-year tax revenue declines of this magnitude since 2002.

That this is somewhat of a positive spin on the situation is readily apparent when one looks at the actual data. Although overall state tax revenue is only down 2 percent in 2010, it’s now down 10.21 percent from its 2008 peak and is lower than it was in 2007 or 2006. The comparison of the eleven states with positive growth in tax revenues to the four states with revenue contractions of more than 10 percent is simply bizarre; a more relevant one would be to point out that 39 states had declining revenues in 2010.

Also, five of those eleven states with tax revenue growth had growth of less than one percent. In the case of Maine, it was only 0.03%. One cannot reasonably say that the state economies were improving in 2010, only that they declined at a slower rate than in 2009.

Keep in mind that this slower rate of contraction took place despite the benefit of the enormous stimulus package, much of which, as we know from Paul Krugman’s past recommendationscurrent complaints, went to the state governments. Now that the spending orgy has, at least temporarily, come to an end, we would anticipate that state tax revenues will again decline at an increasing rate in 2011. I can’t confirm that, though, because the monthly Iowa tax report that I use as a rough proxy is inconclusive; in April it looked like 2011 tax receipts would be down, while in May they look very positive.

Regardless, by the state tax metric, the central thesis of RGD still appears to be sound.

The Crüel World of R. Scött Bâkkër

After some back-and-forth discussions pursuant to my opining on the New Nihilism of George R.R. Martin, Joe Abercrombie and others in a post entitled The Decline and Fall of the Fantasy Novel, I found myself interested in the works of my interlocutor, who happened to be the author of The Prince of Nothing series as well as a second series entitled The Aspect Emperor. It’s too soon to write a review, as I have only finished the first book in the series, The Darkness That Comes Before. However, there are already five things that are readily apparent about Mr. Bakker’s fiction:

Read the rest at The Blâck Gátë