SF critic and scholar John Clute takes a look at "SF not meant for yahoos like us" in the latest installment of Excessive Candour.
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The White Abacus
Hamlet...or should we say Telmah...in space
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The White Abacus
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By Damien Broderick
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Avon Books
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$20.70/$30.00 Canada
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Hardcover, March 1997
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ISBN: 0-380-97476-2
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Review by L.R.C. Munro
 et in the far future, The White Abacus takes place in a universe where humans, Genetics and AI live in peace and harmony. Here all citizens have access to the information flow of the Gestell, and instantaneous travel anywhere in the galaxy is possible via "hex gates." The only ones who don't take advantage of the nifty technology are the Belters, a society living in the asteroid belt around Earth. Once the pioneers of traditional ship travel through space, the Belters were left behind when the hex gates were discovered. Disgruntled at being made obsolete, the Belters retreated into religious dogma and archaic social structures, refusing to hex on the grounds that it steals the soul. Isolated by their stubbornness, the Belters live in a constant state of internal war.
Ordinarily the universe ignores the Belters, but when it looks like Feng Lord Cima, a Belter with loose morals and big ambitions, might pose a threat outside the Belt, "ai" and "hu" join forces to keep the situation in hand. To this end is born Ratio, an ai whose previous existence has been as a Gamemaster in the unified mind of the Gestell. Ratio is brought into the Real to befriend Feng's nephew, a young noble named Telmah, who has been sent to Earth to further his education.
Ratio and Telmah become friends and all seems well enough, until, during one particularly challenging game, Telmah receives the news that his Uncle Feng has killed his father, taken his crown and is about to marry his mother. Hearing this, Telmah rushes to return to the Belt, allowing Ratio to accompany him, and the two of them are plunged into an adventure whose outcome may change the space time continuum forever.
Shakespeare probably would have liked it
Despite the Shakespearean connection (read Telmah backwards), The White Abacus is anything but a tragedy. From the first sentence Broderick creates a universe full of wonder, bawdy humor and dry wit. Nor is The White Abacus simply a retelling of "Hamlet" in space. Although the central plot of this novel follows Shakespeare's play, the story is given a larger, specifically science fictional context by the universe in which it takes place. The fit is so good and so surprisingly appropriate in places that readers can imagine Shakespeare himself nodding approval at the liberty.
What The White Abacus is, is terrific space opera. The characters are larger than life, from the brilliant, troubled Telmah to the caricature-ish Feng the evil villain. Ratio, the naive ai makes a good narrator, allowing a certain amount of explanation to be made plain without disrupting the flow. The technology has a certain tongue-in-cheek feel to it too -- from the implausible but scientifically accurate trip through space on a reverse mass-driver to the "gengineered" chicken that captains a spaceship. There's lots of clever invention here, though, and all of it well thought out despite the less than reverential tones. Things get cartoonish at times, particularly whenever Telmah's anarchist college buddies, Rozz and Gil, show up, but this is an understandable problem as the comic relief these characters provided in the original play is not really needed in Broderick's light-hearted version.
If there is a flaw in The White Abacus it's that the frivolous atmosphere makes it hard to get emotionally involved with the characters. Nevertheless, they are a charming bunch, replete with bizarre customs and beliefs, whose everyday lives are full of enough miracles and wonders to keep readers engaged. The action and invention move forward at a fast pace, and ultimately Broderick brings the story to a surprising and satisfying end.
Overall, this is a colorful and entertaining read, full of the kind of inventiveness that exists only in science fiction.
Definitely a fun book -- if there is to be a successor to Jack Vance, it might just be Broderick. -- LRC
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The Dealings of Daniel Kesserich
Strange events surround an accidental death in a small town...
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The Dealings of Daniel Kesserich
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By Fritz Leiber
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Tor Books
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$18.95/$26.95 Canada
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Hardcover, March 1997
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ISBN: 0-312-85408-0
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Review by Clinton Lawrence
 eorge Kramer, Daniel Kesserich, Mary Andrews and John Ellis were good friends at the New York university they attended. Years later, Mary and John married, and all but George have moved to Smithville, a small California desert town. George hasn't seen the others for 10 years, but that's about to change when he receives a letter from John that says Mary has died under mysterious circumstances: eating an orange she picked from a tree that had been sprayed with a deadly pesticide.
George doesn't arrive in Smithville until after Mary's funeral and
burial. Ellis has unexpectedly left town, and Kesserich is missing as well. But even stranger things are happening in Smithville. While looking around, George encounters a trail of strawberry-colored pebbles that leads to the tree where Mary died. As he follows the trail back to town, he witnesses Kesserich's house explode. In the remains of the house, George discovers a charred notebook containing clues hinting at Kesserich's secret research, involving morphine and time control.
The people of Smithville suspect George's involvement in the explosion, but there's no proof. Meanwhile, stranger things are beginning to happen, including a rumor that Mary didn't actually die, but was buried alive, and that Ellis and Kesserich were seen at the cemetery late at night after the burial. The rumors grow into a movement to exhume the body, and George and the townspeople find that Mary's corpse is missing.
A foreshadowing of Leiber's versatility...
Fritz Leiber originally wrote The Dealings of Daniel Kesserich in 1936, when he was heavily influenced by H. P. Lovecraft, but the novella
has remained unpublished until this year. It's really a shame, because
while it might not equal Leiber's finest work, it's a fine piece of
writing that foreshadows the talent Leiber would become. And while the
horror influence is evident on this story and the real explanation involves the well-trodden SF theme of time travel,
in form this work is a mystery. Leiber's ability to successfully merge the
three genres shows that even in the very beginning of his career, Leiber
had developed the versatility that was to mark his later work.
If there's a flaw to quibble about, it's that the resolution of the
mystery involves lengthy exposition at the end, rather than George deducing it from the clues. Even so, the final explanation has some elegance and resolves the loose ends quite nicely. And to be honest, what's really happening is simultaneously more realistic and more horrific than a supernatural explanation could be.
The presentation of the science of time travel is about the only thing that dates the writing -- it's about as sophisticated can be expected from 1930s science fiction. But Leiber adds an unusual wrinkle to its execution, a sort of wave effect, where the changes have to catch up with the future. Many of the strange events affecting Smithville are the result of Leiber's imaginative concept of time.
It's not often that posthumously published work is as good as this. This book is a must read for Leiber fans, and a pleasant way to spend an hour or two.
Leiber is one of my favorites among the science fiction writers who emerged in the 1940s, and it's quite a treat to get the chance to read a newly discovered early work. -- Clint
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