handall Placehold set himself apart at an early age. He learned woodcraft from kindly lumberjacks, until he learned they were of the people called "kinless"--the hardworking underclass from whom Lordkin like Whandall "gather" what they need. He spied on the secretive Lords, until he was caught and badly beaten. He even befriended Morth of Atlantis, the only wizard in magic-blighted Tep's Town.
Fire doesn't burn indoors in Tep's Town, thanks to the fire god Yangin-Atep. But every few years he possesses the Lordkin, who incinerate their own city in an orgy of destruction called the Burning. Many Placehold men died in the last Burning, leaving Whandall feeling isolated. His apparent future, a long road to leadership of his faction, holds little appeal. He must be the only Lordkin curious about the world. But what future is there outside Tep's Town for a Lordkin, known far and wide as shiftless thieves?
One day Whandall, watching other Lordkin violently "gather" a wagon full of kinless children, feels a rage so hot it sets buildings ablaze. He is possessed by Yangin-Atep--he is starting the next Burning! Already rioting roils around him. Disgusted, Whandall shepherds the now-orphaned children out of Tep's Town, burning his way through the malevolent forest until the god leaves him.
Whandall carves out a new life on the Hemp Road. Around him grows a legend, thanks to his possession by another god, Coyote, his unmatched fighting skills and his magical tattoo (a gift from Morth). He marries and tries to settle down. But Morth reappears. The unstable wizard has drawn Whandall's son into his plan to destroy his magical nemesis. His scheme requires the unique conditions present in Tep's Town, pulling the unwilling Whandall back to the one city he never wanted to see again.
A magical but flawed society
Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle, as a team, have cornered the market on the richly-textured SF epic. Now they've moved into Robert Jordan/David Eddings territory, plundering their dog-eared copy of A Field Guide to Mythical Kingdoms to populate a color-saturated world with wizards, warriors, talismans and monsters. But where the stock fantasy dreamscape is usually designed to carry readers far from home, Niven and Pournelle can't break their long habit of relevance. By explicitly setting the story in prehistoric Southern California with a mix of aboriginal cultures, the authors lend topicality to a young man's journey into manhood. Like Lordkin, people today are sometimes trapped by customs that have lost their meaning.
Whandall grows organically from this environment. As he's shaped by his culture, he feels its hollowness as well, probing it unconsciously as one would a missing tooth. As he grows he looks outward, not because the plot demands it, but because his society's flaws turn and direct him. Indeed, Whandall takes on a life of his own. In the end the authors must force him back down the Hemp Road one last time for the necessary showdown with Morth and Yangin-Atep.
Though in some ways unconventional, The Burning City exhibits typical genre shortcomings. The strongest woman, Willow, retracts in on herself to become the devoted and worried wife. Mad wizard Morth's sporadic appearances, while lively, are like the constant reappearance of a bad penny. He lacks the poignancy of Merlin, another wizard who watches as magic fades.
Nonetheless, the story survives its flaws because of the involving dynamic among Lordkin and kinless in a world slowly losing its mysteries and its gods.
Yangin-Atep be praised, there isn't a Quest! Note to fantasy writers: Just because Frodo happened to live on the other side of Middle Earth from the Cracks of Doom, your stories do not have to hinge on everybody walking 600 miles before something climactic happens. Here, Whandall is searching only for himself, and he begins to find that almost as soon as he leaves Tep's Town. That's refreshing.
-- Mark
hink no one can predict the future? Don't tell that to the 17 authors in Gardner Dozois's latest short story collection. These oracles take a long-term approach to forecasting, allowing their gaze to travel far down the tunnel of time. As explained by Dozois in his preface, "most science fiction takes place in the future, but even within the genre, few writers have ever had the imagination, poetic skills, and visionary scope to write convincingly about the really far future, and stories of that sort, which usually take place at least thousands and often millions of years from now, are among the rarest in science fiction."
This anthology covers the years 1950 to 1998 and begins with Jack Vance's "Guyal of Sfere," from The Dying Earth. Although the sun is growing dark and cold, a young adventurer seeks the knowledge preserved by ancestors in the Museum of Man. Magic melds with technology as Guyal journeys to find the Museum Curator, who knows all things.
In "Old Hundredth," by Brian W. Aldiss, humans have departed the scene entirely. Their legacy of genetic experimentation and mutation lives on in an entirely different population that wistfully contemplates the desertion of Earth by its old masters. Robert Reed envisions a time, in "Sister Alice," when humanity will possess godlike powers--defying age, death and human frailty, while investigating the predictability and practicality of unlimited power.
Hooking Hubble to a crystal ball
Reading this collection is like hooking the Hubble telescope to a crystal ball to see a future so remote that it's often unsettling and sometimes quite unrecognizable. These short stories view the future through a variety of lenses, with each author providing a different focus or target for observation. In "Nightwings," Robert Silverberg homes in on Earth's undaunted fixation on alien invasion, while Walter Jon Williams uses his story, "Dinosaurs," to explore the actual definition of alien invasion.
The evolution of culture and civilization is a common thread through many of the stories, but individuals are also subject to scrutiny. In "The Death Artist," Alexander Jablokov describes the work of Elam, an intellectual who combines death and performance art for the entertainment of his friends until art begins to do more than imitate life. Ian McDonald examines the power of one individual's influence on history in "The Days of Solomon Gursky." When Solomon accidentally uncovers a way to beat death, he gives the human race the gift of immortality.
Three themes emerge from this collection. In one, civilization declines, losing past technological and social accomplishments. In another, humans are absent, living only as vague myths and legends for those creatures who continue to exist. A final thread depicts humans with great technological advances who use their extraordinary powers for trivial pleasures and selfish pursuits. A variety of authors, writing styles and topics are included in this entertaining anthology, and Dozois provides insightful notes before each story.
The future may be better or the future may be worse, but one thing's for sure--according to these folks, it's definitely going to be different.
-- Susan
handall Placehold set himself apart at an early age. He learned woodcraft from kindly lumberjacks, until he learned they were of the people called "kinless"--the hardworking underclass from whom Lordkin like Whandall "gather" what they need. He spied on the secretive Lords, until he was caught and badly beaten. He even befriended Morth of Atlantis, the only wizard in magic-blighted Tep's Town.
hink no one can predict the future? Don't tell that to the 17 authors in Gardner Dozois's latest short story collection. These oracles take a long-term approach to forecasting, allowing their gaze to travel far down the tunnel of time. As explained by Dozois in his preface, "most science fiction takes place in the future, but even within the genre, few writers have ever had the imagination, poetic skills, and visionary scope to write convincingly about the really far future, and stories of that sort, which usually take place at least thousands and often millions of years from now, are among the rarest in science fiction."
