|
|
The Rift
Earthquakes, floods and a possible nuclear disaster...
 |
The Rift
|
|
By Walter J. Williams
|
|
HarperPrism
|
|
$26.00/$38.00 Canada
|
|
Hardcover, Sept. 1999
|
|
ISBN 0-06-105294-9
|
|
|
Review by A.M. Dellamonica
 hen her spiritual adviser predicts an apocalyptic earthquake in Los
Angeles, Calif., Catherine Adams wastes no time in moving her teen-age son, Jason, out
of harm's way. Guided by prophecy, she takes him to the small town of
Cabell's Mound, Mo. Resentful and cut off from his friends, Jason finds his
problems are compounded by the intolerance of his new neighbors for both his
mother's New Age beliefs and his own passion for in-line skating.
Unfortunately for Catherine, Missouri also lies on a major fault line,
and when disaster strikes, Jason is practically at its epicenter. In The
Rift, Walter J. Williams draws on factual accounts of the 1812 New
Madrid earthquake--which was so serious that the Mississippi began to
flow backward--to create a full-blown disaster scenario. Changes in the
American heartland since the previous earthquake only multiply the effect of
the catastrophe. Missouri is vastly more populated than it was two centuries
ago, and the Mississippi is penned within a system of reservoirs, flood
walls and levees--few of which are earthquake-proof.
With Cabell's Mound shaking to fragments around him, Jason is cast adrift
in a fishing boat, at the mercy of a flooding Mississippi that has torn free
of human control. Unable to escape the current, he does manage to rescue
another survivor, an African-American engineer named Nick Ruford who is
searching for his daughter in the post-quake chaos.
While Jason and Nick are carried downstream, other survivors struggle
with the devastation. A nuclear engineer fights to keep his badly damaged
power plant from poisoning the Mississippi. A radio preacher celebrates the
arrival of Doomsday, while a Ku Klux Klan-backed sheriff tries to keep
order in his district. The president copes with tragedies both distant and
personal, and stockbrokers rush to capitalize on the economic fallout of the
quake. Those stranded in the affected areas must tangle with even more
dangers--floods, aftershocks, the threat of despair and, as things grow
worse, each other.
Real and scary
Williams has based his near-future story on cold hard fact: the New
Madrid fault line lies under the massive infrastructure of the U.S.
heartland, beneath the cities, the factories and the millions of people of the
"Swampeast." He explores this premise with scientific precision, ignoring
nothing. Readers see the impact of the quake at every level: on ground-zero
survivors, on American race relations, on the global economy, and on the U.S.
Army Corps of Engineers.
Standard disaster novel fare is combined in The Rift with a coming-of-age tale that pays homage to Mark Twain's The Adventures of
Huckleberry Finn. Lost on the river, Jason and Nick drift through the
lives of the other survivors, encounters which are memorable and vivid. This
episodically structured plot is careful and deadly, tightening around the
two refugees as surely as a noose. Readers looking for a light adventure
will not find it in The Rift, which has as much to say about the
human capacity for carelessness, denial and evil as it does about geological
fault lines and the tendency of rivers to flood.
Within the epic scope of the novel, Williams' deftness with
characterization shines brightly. The people in The Rift are
vibrantly alive and utterly believable, looming large even against a
backdrop of earthquakes that hit 8.9 on the Richter scale, toxic gas leaks, and cities in flames.
Jason, Nick and the other characters are engaging and sympathetic,
bringing massive destruction to a more intimate level.
Scientists have warned for years that a natural disaster in a densely
populated, industrialized area could have devastating effects and a hideous
death toll. Williams goes them one better, offering a meticulous and
unflinching tour of the carnage. The Rift is chillingly easy to
believe, the more so because it describes an event that, ultimately, may be
inevitable.
This book totally sucked me in. At least three times I turned a page, saw
what was coming next for Jason and Nick, and groaned, "Oh no!"
-- A.M.
Back to the top.
Centaurus: The Best of Australian Science Fiction
SF from Down Under is moving up
|
Centaurus: The Best of Australian Science Fiction
|
|
Edited by David G. Hartwell and Damien Broderick
|
|
Tor Books
|
|
$29.95/$41.95 Canada
|
|
Hardcover, July 1999
|
|
ISBN 0-312-86556-2
|
|
|
Review by Clinton Lawrence
 entaurus, a new anthology edited by David G. Hartwell and
Damien Broderick (a Science Fiction Weekly reviewer), collects 20 of
the best science fiction short stories written by
Australian authors. All of the selections were published after 1970, something Hartwell and Broderick
attribute (in their introductions) to the relatively late emergence of
Australian writers in the SF field. As the editors
point out, prior to 1970 the science fiction writer most closely identified
with Australia was American author Cordwainer Smith. At that time the Australian market
was too small to support professional science fiction publications. Even
so, Australian criticism was thriving in its fan publications (the
Australians founded the William Atheling Jr. Award, still the only award
for SF criticism), and the early Australian critics built a
tradition that would lead to excellence when the Australian fiction market
did emerge.
According to Broderick and Hartwell, a writing workshop held by Ursula K.
Le Guin at the 1975 World Science Fiction Convention in Melbourne changed the
Australian SF landscape forever. That conference, and several other
famous workshops (including another led by Le Guin and Gene Wolfe at the convention
AussieCon II in 1985), opened up the Australian science fiction market and
inspired a generation of outstanding writers. The first professional
Australian science fiction magazine was founded in 1981, and while it lasted
only until 1987, two new ones began publishing in 1990 (Aurealis and
Eidolon). Both are still around. And, unlike the situation in
other parts of the world, original anthologies have been more influential
than magazines in the development of Australian science fiction, according
to Hartwell.
Broderick's introduction, the longer of the two, documents the history of
Australian SF from the viewpoint of someone intimately
involved with its development. Hartwell balances this
insider's perspective with a more distanced, objective analysis that finds
Australian science fiction compares favorably with that produced in the
rest of the English-speaking world.
Good SF, mate
Published this year to coincide with the 1999 World Science Fiction
Convention, being held in Melbourne, Australia, Centaurus demonstrates that the
best Australian SF is as good as the best written anywhere.
While some of the authors included are well-known outside
Australia (such as Broderick, Greg Egan, George Turner, A. Bertram Chandler, and
Cherry Wilder), Centaurus contains an excellent
selection of lesser-known writers as well. And though Hartwell is probably
right when he says that he doesn't find a unique perspective
that differentiates Australian science fiction from that produced elsewhere,
there are some surprises. One is the frequency of religious themes in the
selected stories, especially in Broderick's "The Magi," Stephen Dedman's
"From Whom All Blessings Flow," and Chris Lawson's "Written in Blood," all
outstanding stories.
Other particularly noteworthy stories include George Turner's "Flowering
Mandrake," in which a crippled spaceship enters the solar system carrying a botanical alien with a
hatred for creatures of flesh; Lucy Sussex's "My
Lady Tongue," in which a young member of a lesbian community injures herself
while surveying the countryside and is rescued by a heterosexual male;
"Wang's Carpets" by Greg Egan, in which explorers find a surprising new life
form; "A Map of the Mines of Barnath" by Sean Williams, in which a man
searches a mysterious mining operation for his missing brother; and perhaps
the anthology's best story, Peter Carey's brilliant "The Chance," in which
people can participate in a lottery to have their bodies genetically
reconstructed.
While Broderick and Hartwell point out that Centaurus isn't the
first anthology to attempt to collect Australia's best science fiction, its
publication is without question a significant event. It succeeds
brilliantly both as a wonderful collection of great stories and as a
document of the development of SF in a country whose writers are becoming
increasingly important in the SF field.
Hartwell writes that another anthology just as good could be assembled from
stories they left out. If that's the case, I think we ought to demand the
publication of Centaurus 2 as soon as possible. In the meantime, I'm
going to have to find out how to subscribe to those Australian SF magazines.
-- Clint
Back to the top.
|
