Dreaming detectives and more nails in steampunk’s coffin.

Dear friends,

Have you noticed any of these books over the last six months? Have their bright covers and intriguing synopses* tempted you as you walk past your local book purveyor? Have you lain awake pondering whether they are worth your precious time and attention? Have countless minutes elapsed while you shifted from foot to foot in the shoppe aisles, hefting one and then the other in hand, comparing their relative densities, paper quality and font choice**? Would you like to know which of these five are nominated for the Nebula award for best novel***?

Friends, I have read all of these books. I am here to assist you.

Read on for scathing criticisms and ranting delight.

*Do not, under pain of death, read the back cover synopsis of The Manual of Detection. It is both factually wrong and riddled with spoilers.

** Boneshaker is printed in brown ink. BROWN.

*** Hint: four out of these five are nominated, all in the same category. Apparently, the nomination committee lives behind my bookshelf.

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Tantalizing tales coming our way

Ian McDonald (River of Gods, Cyberabad Days, Brasyl) has made writing speculative fiction set in second and third world countries a house specialty. Coming down the pipe in June/July of this year will be “The Dervish House,” a new techno thriller that takes place in a country woven through with complex dichotomies and warring traditions: Turkey.

According to A Dribble of Ink,

“In the sleepy Istanbul district of Eskiköy stands the former whirling dervish house of Adem Dede. Over the space of five days of an Istanbul heatwave, six lives weave a story of corporate wheeling and dealing, Islamic mysticism, political and economic intrigue, ancient Ottoman mysteries, a terrifying new terrorist threat, and a nanotechnology with the potential to transform every human on the planet.”

Sounds like classic McDonald to me: seemingly disconnected character plots that eventually cinch close and tight, some sort of techy/bioware crisis that only they can prevent, and a fascinating, richly textured country in which to set his characters racing.

Load up your playlist with some Mercan Dede and get out your Turkish-to-English slang dictionary, because this will be a frolic through some amazing territory. Can’t wait.

Gosh, and what’s this little number below, which drops around the same time as “Dervish?”

Why, yes, yes it is.

Capoeira rhythms, World cup ambitions

So excited was I by Ian McDonald’s 2004 Indian opus, River of Gods, that I immediately scrambled to acquire his 2007 foray into national/ethnic sci-fi, Brasyl. Clocking in at under half the length of River, Brasyl deals with another bustling country on the verge of greatness: Brazil.

River of Gods astonished with a blinding whirl of intricate world-building, so much so that its central plot was almost incidental. Content to simply follow his multitude of interesting characters as they ambulated through the dizzying world of 2047 India, the main plot of the book was an afterthought, a quick tying together of disparate plot strands and A.I. pyrotechnics.

Brasyl, taking place in Rio de Janeiro, Sao Paulo and the Amazon jungle, follows quite a different structure. The chapters not only jump from narrator to narrator, but back and forth in time: from a Jesuit missionary on the Amazon in 1732, to a cutting-edge reality tv producer in 2006, to a slick and almost-legal entrepreneur in 2032. Sticking with these three voices exclusively, McDonald hits upon some of the pivotal cultural landmarks of Brazil: its history as an exploited colonial depot for slaves, its modern obsessions with beauty-capoeira-guns-soccer-cool factor, and a future Brazil that may well be a locus for all sorts of black market technology and
lucrative possibilities.

Streamlined and curt, Brasyl eschews the tendency for magnificent sprawl that defined River and instead presents a compelling, tight plot. Instead of the artificial intelligence and battle robots of India, the three protagonists of Brasyl must contend with quantum realities and multi-dimensions. (Yes, even the Jesuit in 1732.) Whether entrenched deep in the murk of the Amazon, ensconced in a glittering penthouse in 2006, or racing through favelas and neon canyons on motorbike in 2032, McDonald’s characters will have to face the possibility that their Brazil isn’t the only—or the best—version.

Bollypunk and Badmashes

I ran through the 599 pages of Ian McDonald’s River of Gods as if the entire Hindu pantheon were hot on my heels. Compulsively readable, bursting with literary acrobatics, McDonald’s hefty hardcover plunges the reader into the meticulously crafted world of India, year 2047.

India, however, doesn’t exist anymore. Imagined as a fractured patchwork of nation-states, the state of Bharat is just as hectic and multilayered as ever. Bharat still has one foot firmly rooted in the traditions of purdah, religious fervor and caste, and the other dancing towards a dizzying future full of A.I. technology, genetic manipulation and quantum physics. Skyscrapers rise dazzling between one day and the next, ascetics starve themselves on street corners in dhotis, and the entire nation is addicted to a daily soap opera that stars actors who only exist on humming servers.

Navigating their precarious way through the dichotomies of the political, cultural and scientific landscapes are a dozen compelling characters. Some of the most intriguing include an Afghan journalist aching for her big break, a cop who specializes in hunting down rogue A.I., and a genetically restructed “neuter” who writes plots for the nation’s most popular television show. Others include scientists, gangsters, politicians, housewives, and a young woman who may be a little more than human.

This is a world not yet spun out to ridiculous sci-fi proportions, but one yet recognizable to us, its forebears. The most compelling aspect of River is the astonishing depth of world-building, and the amount of extrapolatory thought inherent in Bharat’s creation. Each new technology is based on breakthroughs that could arguably happen over the next forty years, each cultural more is either rooted in Indian tradition or is a realistic possibility. The ease with which McDonald slings Hindi/Urdu words, and his apparent familiarity with the religious currents, customs and history of India all add richness and flavor to this incredible literary tapestry.