Two Decades as a John Scalzi Fan: Part 3

Circa 2008 to 2014

In two prior posts, I traced by appreciation of science fiction writer John Scalzi from my discovery of him in 2006 when I received an advance reader’s copy (ARC) of Old Man’s War (Amazon Link) through roughly 2011:

Zoe’s Tale

When I first read about Zoe’s Tale (AMAZON LINK) on Scalzi’s blog, I was skeptical. ZT is a retelling of the events of The Lost Colony. Been there, done that, right? If Orson Scott Card couldn’t pull it off (I hated Ender’s Shadow and all the rest of the Bean series, although YMMV), retelling the same events using a different POV character has got to be a very tough job. As for the different POVer, it’s a teenage girl. With the half century mark looming ever closer, teenage POVers no longer hold much interest for your truly. But especially not teenage girls.

So ZT started out with two strikes. Needless to say, as you’ll have seen this coming, I was hooked by the end of the first chapter and spent most of the rest of the work day—one of the secret advantages of being an academic—ripping through it. ZT solves two plot issues I’d had with TLC by filling in some key back story. More important, however, ZT stands alone. You could pick it up without having read TLC—or any of the other Old Man’s War series—and enjoy it very much. Neat trick. A third ball home run.

As for POVer Zoe, in many ways, she’s the most enjoyable of Scalzi’s POV characters to date. Zoe’s smart, sarcastic, witty, and vulnerable, in turn. She’s older and wiser than her years, but given what Scalzi put her through that’s okay. She reminded me a bit of my then 20-something nieces, both of whom are a joy to know and hang out with, which tells me that Scalzi’s done a really fine job of characterization.

One criticism. Scalzi’s come up with a very imaginative alien race in the Obin, but he’s now taken away the one thing that made them really unique. I understand why he had to do it as a plot device, but the resulting problem problem is that none of the alien races seem all that alien. General Gau, for example, seems no more alien than, say, Grand Admiral Thrawn. Of course, the same complaint could be made of virtually every science fiction novel in history. At the end of the day, they’re all just actors wearing Star Trek makeup.

That quibble aside, this is exceptionally good stuff.

An OMW story set 20-odd years later than TLC and ZT that explores the relationship between an adult Zoe and the Obin (and the Conclave and the CU) could be very interesting. A human friend of General Gau’s with inante political chops and an entire race of highly capable warriors at her beck and call would be a redoubtable political force. Imagine a cross between Joan d’Arc, Alexander the Great, and maybe Margaret Thatcher.

Another Shout Out

My review of ZT on my olg blog elicited a nice shout out from Scalzi:

Just in case you missed it over there in the Whateverettes, Steve Bainbridge has a nice ZT review as well. Bainbridge along with Glenn Reynolds and Eugene Volokh was one of the first promoters of my fiction, so I’m always pleased when/if the latest book passes his sniff test.

The God Engines

The God Engines (AMAZON LINK) was a major departure for Scalzi. It’s a fantasy noir—albeit with hints of an untold science fiction backstory—that gets darker as it progresses.

Much modern fantasy basically sucks. It consists either of endless vampire supernatural romance erotica or bloated series of door stoppers whose authors likely will drop dead before they finish. Sure, there are exceptions, like Brandon sanderson, but even his output is pretty uneven.

In The God Engines, Scalzi carved out something very refreshing: A concise, exciting, and highly original story. As Robert Thompson explained:

In “The God Engines”, John Scalzi introduces readers to a dark and chilling world where gods not only exist, but can also be tortured, enslaved, or even killed. A world where science has been replaced by faith, where Defiled gods are used as “engines” to power spaceships, where followers may be blessed with Talents—”a thing gods give followers to channel their grace, so the followers may use that grace to their own ends”—and where faith is a tangible power. A world of rooks, Bishop’s Men, and commentaries. A world that is highly imaginative, mostly original (parts of the novella reminded me of James Clemens’ Godslayer Chronicles), immersive despite having only 136 pages to bring the concept to life, and utterly captivating.

In this grim, yet fascinating world, readers will meet a small and well-drawn cast of characters—Captain Ean Tephe of the ship Righteous, Priest Andso, Commander Neal Forn, rook Shalle, the Defiled of the Righteous—who play a pivotal role in the events recorded in “The God Engines”. Events that are straightforward for the most part, but culminate in an explosive and mind-blowing finish full of dark twists and shocking revelations.

And then there was Paul Stott’s take on it:

The God Engines is unlike anything he’s done before, shockingly different, both new and completely unexpected. It’s the book Scalzi needed to write in order to mature as a writer and to take his considerable talents to the next level. It’s the book that shows he’s more than just a writer of humorous space operas; he’s also one of the best science fiction writers currently working.

A vastly rich tale set in a theocratic universe, The God Engines is a modern sci-fi classic, an intriguing examination of faith and worship and godhood. Intelligent and provocative, the narrative reminds me of a classic Twilight Zone episode, well-written, multi-leveled and rich with ideas. The God Engines is the best thing yet from John Scalzi and worthy of award consideration.

As you might expect from my opening comments, I disagree somewhat with Stott’s take that The God Engines is science fiction. It’s a hybrid of fantasy and science fiction, with the latter elements peeking through from time to time from a largely concealed backstory. It establishes Scalzi as someone capable of writing successfully in both genres.

In sum, highly recommended.

Judge Sn Goes Golfing

Judge Sn Goes Golfing (AMAZON LINK) is really a short story, although his publisher Subterranean Press called it a “chapbook,” whatever that is.

In the old days, it might have been a lead single issue short for Analog or Asimov, but Scalzi and Subterranean decided to make it available as a limited edition softcover. The story took a minor character from Scalzi’s novel The Android’s Dream (AMAZON LINK), put him on a golf course, salted the text with a slew of Carlin’s seven words, and churned out a witty and entertaining story. It reminded me of P.G. Wodehouse’s The Golf Omnibus (AMAZON LINK), which is high praise indeed. Like Wodehouse’s stories, you don’t need to be a golfer to enjoy Scalzi’s comedic stylings.

Questions for a Soldier

Questions for a Soldier (AMAZON LINK) is another short story masquerading as a book.

Questions is situated in Scalzi’s Old Man’s War universe. One of the now retired CDF veterans answers questions about his service. It’ll appeal mainly to fans of those books, since it fills in a bit more of their back story. Having said that, however, Scalzi’s ruminations on imperialism and soldiers are worth the $0.99 price of admission even for those who haven’t read the series.

An Election

An Election (AMAZON LINK) is still another short story masquerading a a book. It’s an interesting, quirky story about an election campaign in a city where humans and aliens cohabit more or less peacefully. There’s a fair bit of Scalzi’s trademark style of humor, about which folks seem to be sharply divided. I get it and like it, but YMMV. Anyway, at $0.99, what do you have to lose?

The Human Division

The Human Division (AMAZON LINK) was a serial novel published in 13 parts that were then combined into a single book with some additional content. Buy the book.

The Wall Street Journal (no less) gave it a strong review:

John Scalzi’s “The Human Division” (Tor, 431 pages, $25.99), the fifth novel in a sequence that began with “Old Man’s War” (2005), is in a long tradition too, back to Robert Heinlein’s “Starship Troopers” (1959), Joe Haldeman’s “Forever War” (1974) and Orson Scott Card’s “Ender’s Game” (1985). Humans have colonized other worlds and created a specialized military caste for protection from potentially hostile aliens. Ever since Heinlein, however, there has been uneasiness about the too-quick identification of “alien” as “enemy.”

Mr. Scalzi’s current volume follows up on that uneasiness. The “division” part of “The Human Division,” is between Earth and its colonies. Both sides need each other, but their interests are opposed. Alien races, meanwhile, alarmed at expansion of the Colonial Union, have formed a “Conclave” to block it. But will they distinguish Earth, which supplies recruits for the Colonial Defense Forces in exchange for protection, from the CU?

Unusually, “The Human Division” consists of 13 linked short stories. Showing a complex situation from different angles, they roughly alternate between the main plot and side plots. It’s slightly confusing at first, but Mr. Scalzi is one of the slickest writers that sci-fi has ever produced. His clever narration keeps you turning the pages, as the Conclave confronts wildcat colonies, the CU deals with “Earth Rule” insurgents and agents provocateurs unsettle all sides.

Recommended.

Redshirts and Scalzi versus Ringo

In 2013, Scalzi picked up a well-deserved Hugo Award for Best Novel for Redshirts: A Novel with Three Codas (AMAZON LINK). It’s an amusing, if sometimes convoluted, take on the problem memorably framed by Galaxy Quest’s Guy Fleegman:

I’m not even supposed to be here. I’m just “Crewman Number Six.” I’m expendable. I’m the guy in the episode who dies to prove how serious the situation is. I’ve gotta get outta here.

In Redshirts, Scalzi explored the lives of those red-shirted crewmen whose sole function seems to be waiting to be killed off on away missions, and quite successfully so, as Steven Silver observed:

Scalzi has taken the trope of the redshirt, the previously unseen character in an episode of Star Trek whose sole purpose is to die and has more fun with it than any author since Douglas Adams asked his audience to empathize with a doomed whale in The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. Dahl and his mates rapidly realize that while things aboard the [starship] Intrepid can appear normal, there are times when things go haywire, with the officers acting irrationally and overly heroic, and danger coming from all sides in some inane ways. They are guided in their investigations by Jenkins, a strange figure who skulks within the walls of the ship, reminiscent of Laszlo from the film Real Genius.

In fact, part of the fun is the variety of homages Scalzi includes to television and film, pointing out their cliches and inanities which are introduced not for any logical reason, but to provide a cliffhanger, much like Gwen DeMarco deploring that “This episode was badly written!” However, while others have pointed out the ridiculousness of the genre, Scalzi’s novel is not redundant, bringing its own loving parody to the unrealistic situations the crew finds themselves in and they struggle for life, knowing that some force, which Jenkins calls “The Narrative” has specifically targeted them.

The key to the novel’s success is that Scalzi isn’t attacking a genre that he doesn’t care about. He understands science fiction, in its written and cinematic form. He has worked on a television show and has some idea about what goes on behind the scenes and how decisions are made. He knows the history of the genre, not just the Star Trek’s and Isaac Asimovs, but the lesser known works. All of that gives Redshirts a heart that is missing from many parodies and satires where the authors sees the easy targets, but doesn’t actually understand their appeal. The situations and humor in Redshirts is the nudge-and-a-wink from a fellow conspirator, not the condescension of an outsider.

Not only does Redshirts work as a novel, but Scalzi is able to make the characters come alive. ...

Unfortunately, SF writer John Ringo churlishly tried to rain on Scalzi’s parade:

There’s nothing wrong with Scalzi’s writing. This is a reasonably good novel (from what I’ve heard) with no real SF or literary merit beyond being a reasonably good novel. But he’s been speaking truth to power about the degradation of women in SF along with other idiocracy and so he’s beloved by all the hasbeen liberal neurotics who control the Hugo voting and balloting. Look to many more in the future as long as he toes the Party line. Huzzah.

Coming from Ringo, this is laughable. Based on recommendations from usually trustworthy sources who share my affection for military SF, I gave Ringo a try a few years before Redshirts, but ended up tossing his books in the recycle bin. You see, Ringo is an awful writer in practically every sense of the word.

One meaning of awful is “very bad.” And Ringo is a very bad writer. He is a poor technician with minimal skills. His plots are tissue paper thin, his characterizations are wooden and shallow, his dialogue stilted, and the books (at least the several I read before giving up) are highly formulaic and predictable.

Another, and even more apt in the present case, definition of awful is “unpleasant.” I had the misfortune of first encountering Ringo in what has been aptly referred to as his OH JOHN RINGO NO series. His everyday books are pretty hard core violence porn even by military SF standards. But the Paladin of Shadows series¹ adds sadistic sex porn to the mix. They’re replete with sadistic sex, bondage, underage sex.

I don’t share Scalzi’s politics. I learned conservative politics at the feet (well, from the books) of Russell Kirk, who once wrote that:

The moral imagination aspires to the apprehending of right order in the soul and right order in the commonwealth. ... It is the moral imagination which informs us concerning the dignity of human nature, which instructs us that we are more than naked apes. As Burke suggested in 1790, letters and learning are hollow if deprived of the moral imagination. And, as Burke suggested, the spirit of religion long sustained this moral imagination, along with a whole system of manners. Such imagination lacking, to quote another passage from Burke, we are cast forth “from this world of reason, and order, and peace, and virtue, and fruitful penitence, into the antagonist world of madness, discord, vice, confusion, and unavailing sorrow.”

Sadly, Ringo’s world is one of “madness, discord, vice, confusion, and unavailing sorrow” populated by “naked [and constantly rutting] apes.” It is utterly loathsome. And I’m betting Russell Kirk—not to mention Jim Kirk—would have thought so too.

1. Which I will not link.