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Patterns

Surgery for the soul in 14 stages

* Patterns
* By Pat Cadigan
* Tor Books
* $13.95/$19.95 Canada
* Trade Paperback, March 1999
* ISBN 0-312-86837-5

Review by A.M. Dellamonica

Patterns is a collection of Pat Cadigan stories, 14 pieces that might be called SF or, as easily, horror. That the stories defy easy genre categorization is ironic when readers consider that Cadigan herself is called the "Queen of Cyberpunk." Though there is little in Patterns that conforms to the cyberpunk label, other Cadigan trademarks remain: sharp prose, intense characterization and searing insight into human nature.

Our Pick: A

The stories in Patterns are dark ones. Some are tales of vulnerable people caught in terrible situations, and others tell of predators and their prey. Disturbingly, this darkness is often covered with a veneer of pleasant normality. In "Eenie, Meenie, Ipsateenie," a grown man returns to the scene of the last game of Hide and Seek he ever played as a child. In "Roadside Rescue," Etan Carerra is assisted by a friendly alien's chauffeur when his car breaks down. He discovers this is no simple act of kindness.

The pain in these stories is strangely bracing. They cut like surgery, trimming away readers' comfort, denial and preconceived notions of the world. Afterwards, there is a sense of clarity, of having had a thorough brain-scrubbing. "My Brother's Keeper" is a heart transplant into the world of China and her search for a heroin-addicted brother. "Two" excises the cherished fantasy that having the powers of a superhero would make life easier.

A different kind of Cadigan treasure

The earlier, British incarnation of this collection--which won a Locus Award--is available in North America for the first time. The honor was well-deserved. Patterns is not perky, light-hearted fun--and it's not intended to be. Instead, it offers depth and edge and incredible writing.

Readers familiar with Cadigan's novel Fools will find Patterns easier to follow, less work and yet retaining the same power and impact. Cadigan's work is treasure, but where Fools is the deed to a gold mine, Patterns is a diamond tiara. There is no need to dig for the wonder in these short stories. Every facet sparkles--the prose, characters and ideas are all delivered with clarity. They are accessible without being facile.

As with all collections, there are stronger and weaker stories in Patterns, and if there is anything wrong with this book, it is that the best stories ("The Power and the Passion," "Two" and "Angel") make the lesser ones seem--unfairly--weaker than they are. Readers may wish to read the stories at intervals, recovering from one before venturing into the next. A compensation, however, is one of the strengths of short story collections--readers get the chance to glimpse something of the writer's creative process through their introductions to the stories. Cadigan's introductions are short but invariably interesting, and provide momentary relief and humor from the intensity of her fiction.

This book will make you laugh, cry and bleed. Afterward you'll feel cleansed, and you'll see the world differently. -- A.M.

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Parable of the Talents

A novel about solutions follows one about problems, but are there any answers?

* Parable of the Talents
* By Octavia E. Butler
* Seven Stories Press
* $24.95/$35.95 Canada
* Hardcover, Dec. 1998
* ISBN 1-888363-81-9

Review by Nalo Hopkinson

In Parable of the Sower, Laura Oya Olamina started a religion that did not have a god, at least not in the classic sense of omnipotent beings who care for their creations. Olamina's God was Change, which has no sentience and no compassion, and in the face of which humans must grow and evolve or die. In the chaos that a massive economic downturn wrought on America, some found logic and stability in Olamina's religion of Earthseed. Olamina was practical, humane and determined that those in her charge would survive and thrive. Although only 16, she had gathered a loyal flock of followers around her. Like Oya, the West African deity of the storm who is her namesake, Olamina became the clear-seeing eye of a tempest of unrest, misfortune and anarchy.

Our Pick: A

Parable of the Talents takes up the story a few years later. Olamina's ultimate goal has always been to propel humans to what she sees as their next stage of development: life off Earth. But when America elects a president who vows to end the economic crisis, some of the Earthseed families believe that they can return to normal lives again.

President Jarret's methods, disguised as Christian piety, are based in extreme misogyny and intolerance of difference. Earthseed is seen as a dangerous cult. The community is soon overrun by "Jarret's Crusaders"--men who kill many of the Earthseed people and put the rest into brutal slavery. Olamina's only child--a baby named Larkin--is kidnapped, and Olamina is told that her daughter is dead. However, Olamina's story is being told by her daughter, now a grown woman, who is reading Olamina's diary and commenting on it. Larkin is convinced that her mother is a self-serving egomaniac. Parable of the Talents slowly braids the stories of mother and daughter together as Olamina struggles to achieve her original vision of Earthseed--travel to the stars.

Working change on a brutal world

Parable of the Talents is a feat of storytelling: a main character revealed in all her complexities and flaws through the skewed viewpoint of a daughter who disapproves of her intensely. Olamina is driven by a vision of revolutionary change so powerful that it will not let her give up. Her obsession calls to mind Marcus Garvey's dream of a united black nation which so galvanized black people that he was able to purchase a shipping line, publish a newspaper and organize international conferences of black people, all on the donations of a people who were struggling out of slavery. Olamina gives up love and family in order to be the agent of what she sees as a greater good: does that make her a hero, or a megalomaniac? Butler offers an evenhanded portrayal of Olamina which doesn't attempt to answer the question.

Social science is as appropriate a discipline as any for the extrapolation of science fiction, and Butler intensifies the social realities of contemporary America. She creates a nightmare crucible of extreme economic downturn that fuels societal disintegration on a massive scale and leaves millions of people vulnerable to human predators. The novel comments on the disinvolvement of those who try to barricade themselves from their less fortunate neighbors; on the dangers of mixing religious intolerance with political force; and finally, on the power of organization at a community level to create change. Earthseed starts out as an insignificant, defenseless group of people, but the last third of the novel convincingly shows how small acts of defiance and solidarity can slowly gain enough momentum to change the course of events. As in all of Butler's novels, reality imposes grim choices on people, but those who leap to the challenge of living fully can transcend.

Octavia Butler's fiction is always a roller-coaster ride for me. She refuses to sugar-coat harsh truths, so when her characters triumph, it's all the more precious for the cost at which victory comes. Reading her work is an unforgettable experience. -- Nalo

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