Analog Science Fiction and Fact - September 2014

by Penny Publications

  "Romance" also denotes a particular type of genre fiction: SF's big sister, if you will. The romance genre is huge; by some estimates, more than half of all novels published are genre romances (just over one-fifth are SF/fantasy; figures for SF alone are unavailable).

  Of course, genre-bending is all the rage nowadays. There are two kinds of crossbreeds: Romances that include SF elements, and SF that includes romance elements. The former are marketed as "futuristic romances" or "sci-fi romances," while the latter are called "romantic SF."

  And here's where some of the controversy comes in. There are some SF readers who complain (vociferously and publicly) about romantic SF. You can almost see their wrinkled noses as they cry, "You got romance in my science fiction!"

  But... but... what about John & Dejah, [Speaking of John and Dejah, Leia and Han, there's also the "Planetary Romance": the pulpy "science fantasy" sibling of space opera — Ed. ] Kim & Clarissa, all the others? Romance has been in SF all along—why complain now?

  In this case, "romance" is often code (conscious or not) to conceal the speaker's real concern. For it's not romance the reader objects to, but women.

  Despite the best efforts of everyone involved, the society in which we live is still largely patriarchal. There's a segment of the population (yes, even among SF readers) who prefer women to be passive and obedient, their thoughts and concerns confined to a sphere where they don't bother men.

  Oh, an occasional female character is fine, as long as they act like men. As long as they concern themselves with important things, and leave all that "girly stuff" outside the bounds of the story.

  Now, I don't want to perpetuate all kinds of stereotypes; we know that there are many kinds of women and many kinds of men [we also know that there are more than two kinds of gender expression, but right now I don't have enough pages for that]. Yet there's one way to approach the world that's hierarchical, status-based, and deterministic—and another way that's networked, relationship-based, and probabilistic. You could call them "engineering" and "psychology" if you want; the readers I'm discussing usually call them "male" and "female."

  Among many readers, there's the perception that SF should be on the "male" side, with the "female" stuff relegated to fantasy. To a mind that finds comfort in rigid categories, mixing the two can be disturbing. (Just try arguing with someone who insists that Anne McCaffrey's Dragonriders of Pern books are fantasy, not SF.)

  And here's yet another use of "romance." Remember I said that romantic fiction focuses on plot and narrative as expressed through characters? Historically, SF paid more attention to the plot and narrative side, while the romance genre paid more attention to characters and their relationships.

  Cross-fertilization between the two genres has given rise to a type of SF narrative that pays as much attention to the characters and relationships between them as to the demands of the plot. In historical science fiction, it wasn't unusual for an author to spend more time developing the planet than the individuals who inhabit it. Romantic SF simply adds another level to the mix, with a focus on the social matrix in which those individuals live.

  Reading is a very personal thing, and there's nothing wrong with confining one's taste to any particular type... or even complaining to one's close friends, over a cup of cheer, about all the trash that's getting published nowadays. In public discourse, however, let's try to cut down on impassioned arguments that suchand-such "isn't real science fiction." Our field is surely large enough to provide room for all varieties of SF.

  Now, I happen to think that a wise reader occasionally widens his or her horizon to try something different. But that's just my opinion.

  On to this month's books:

  Dreamwalker

  C. S. Friedman

  DAW, 320 pages, $19.99 (hardcover)

  Kindle: $9.78, iBooks, Nook: $10.99 (e-book)

  ISBN: 978-0-7564-0888-6

  Series: Dreamwalker Chronicles 1

  Genres: Gates Between Worlds, Teen SF

  C. S. Friedman is a name that should be familiar. She hit the field in 1987 with In Conquest Born, and since has earned a reputation for big, meaty books and series of intelligent, thrilling space opera and epic fantasy.

  Dreamwalker is Friedman's first book aimed at the teen market, and it's a humdinger. Like the best Heinlein and Norton juveniles, this is a book as much for adults as for the smart, well-read teens who are the intended audience.

  Jessica Drake, a fairly normal Virginia teenager, has weird dreams of other worlds. Some are reasonably like her own, others are vastly different. Jessica draws some of the worlds she sees, but she only shares her dreams with one other person: her little brother Tommy, who uses her visions in his online games.

  Then a strange woman comes around the school asking about Jessica and her art. Before Jessica can confront the woman, Tommy goes missing.

  Jessica enlists the aid of some friends to go looking for Tommy. They find that these other worlds are all too real... and they discover some awful truths about their own place in the Universe, and the dangerous conspiracy that has ruled their lives since they were born.

  Dreamwalker is a grand adventure through many worlds, in which nothing is what it seems and threats lurk around every corner. Great for teens and adults alike, and a great introduction to Friedman for those who haven't encountered her before.

  The Children of Kings

  Marion Zimmer Bradley and Deborah J. Ross

  DAW, 453 pages, $7.99 (paperback)

  Kindle: $9.99, iBooks, Nook: $11.99 (e-book)

  ISBN: 978-0-7564-0854-1

  Series: Darkover

  Genres: Beloved Worlds, Science Fantasy

  Along with Anne McCaffrey, Marion Zimmer Bradley was a major early writer to bring romance elements into science fiction. Her Darkover series, starting in 1958 with The Planet Savers, used inherited psi abilities to meld tropes of fantasy with traditional science fiction. The Darkover books are heavily concerned with romantic and familial relationships between characters—many of the books also involve feminist and gender issues. Although popular enough among women readers to spawn multiple fanzines and even an annual convention, the Darkover books received less respect from traditionalists in the field.

  Bradley died in 1999, leaving behind extensive notes on the Darkover mythos. Since then, the series has continued under the byline "Marion Zimmer Bradley and Deborah J. Ross," with Ross developing Bradley's ideas.

  Darkover, for those who haven't had the pleasure, is a world facing enormous change. A lost Terran colony, the people of Darkover developed a semifeudal world with a technology based on psi. After devastating wars almost destroyed the planet, society became bound by the Compact, which prohibits the use of any weapon that acts beyond the reach of the one who wields it. This brought peace to the lands ruled by the Seven Domains.

  Recently, spacefaring Terrans have returned to Darkover, and the clash of cultures is changing both Darkovans and Terrans.

  Children of Kings tells the intertwined stories of two people caught in these changes.

  Prince Gareth Elhalyn, unhappy at court, adopts a disguise and travels outside the Seven Domains to the Dry Towns, a desert society still ruled by warlords and blood feuds. There, he uncovers a smuggling operation bringing illegal Terran blasters—and other weapons— into the Dry Towns.

  Meanwhile, a woman who calls herself Silvana, with a past connection to Gareth's family, lives among the native chieri, the otherworldly race that first gave Darkover its psi technology. The chieri, it turns out, once traveled between the stars just as Terrans do today... and they share their ancient knowledge with Silvana.

  Of course, things are more complex than they seem: interstellar war has come to Darkover's doorstep, and Gareth and Silvana hold the keys to the planet's survival as an independent world.

  Ross does a great job of channeling Bradley; Children of Kings is a worthy addition to the Darkover saga. If you've never visited Darkover, this is a good place to start.


  Earthrise

  M. C. A. Hogarth CreateSpace, 428 pages, $16.99 (trade paperback)

  Kindle, Nook: $5.99 (e-book)

  ISBN: 978-1-4849-9651-5

  Series: Her Instruments 1; Pelted Paradox Universe

  Genres: Space Opera

  In M. C. A. Hogarth's Pelted universe, humans long ago genetically engineered various animal species into sapient beings, who spread out amongst the stars. While Earth remained something of a backwater, the other races advanced and developed an interstellar trade alliance.

  Reese Eddings is in command of the trade ship TMS Earthrise, with a small crew of Pelted misfits. To say Earthrise isn't doing well could be an understatement; in fact, Reese constantly teeters on the edge of bankruptcy.

  Until a man from her past appears with a job offer: to rescue a reclusive alien called Hirianthial from an organization of slavers. The money's good and the cause seems just, so Reese accepts.

  In no time, the crew of Earthrise is out on the lawless frontier, fighting pirates, slavers, and other lowlifes. Then they get Hirianthial onboard and Reese discovers that he's enigmatic, annoying, and a prince among his people. The simple rescue mission suddenly becomes a game of alien politics, and Reese doesn't know most of the rules.

  Hogarth is a gifted storyteller, and Reese Eddings is one of the snarkiest, most sarcastic ship captains in all of space. The thrills are nonstop, the alien cultures and races are well developed and fascinating, and there's just the right amount of humor to keep the whole thing fizzing. Those who like Sharon Lee and Steve Miller's Liaden Universe books will feel right at home here, and anyone who enjoys a fun and thoughtful space opera romp won't be disappointed.

  Queen of Roses

  Elizabeth McCoy

  Amazon, 289 pages

  Kindle: $3.99 (e-book)

  Genres: Artificial Intelligences,

  Comedies of Manners

  This may be the first book I've reviewed that's available only in e-book format. I can think of all sorts of momentous things to say about that... perhaps in a future column.

  Sarafina is an artificial intelligence, and one who's very good at her job. She does accounting for the First Daris Bank, plays 4D chess with fellow AIs, and whiles away the time until her indenture is paid off and she can be a free agent.

  Then one day Sarafina wakes up, half-amnesiac, in a completely different environment. First Daris, it seems, was bought out and downsized in a hostile takeover, and Sarafina's been sold to the owner of an interstellar cruise line. Now Sarafina's activity director on the good ship Queen of Roses. Instead of accountants and figures, now she's dealing with a drunkard of a captain, an incompetent crew, substandard equipment, and—horror of horrors—passengers.

  How is a well-brought-up, introverted accountant AI with no people skills to deal? Indignity is heaped on indignity, there's a stowaway to deal with... and then things get worse.

  Queen of Roses is one of the most quietly hilarious books I've read in a long while, and poor Sarafina one of the most sympathetic AIs to ever come down the pike. The Queen of Roses is a delightful ship of fools, and if you're not laughing as you read this book, there's something wrong with you.

  All is Silence

  Robert L. Slater

  Rocket Tears, 290 pages, $10.99(trade paperback)

  Kindle, Nook: $4.99, iBooks: $6.99 (e-book)

  ISBN: 978-0-9895-6877-7

  Series: Deserted Lands 1

  Genres: Post-Apocalyptic, Teen SF

  Here's another of those teen books that is perfectly fit for adults. As a matter of fact, I'd hesitate before giving it to younger teens without knowing them pretty well—some of the language and situations are fairly mature.

  Lizzie—or, as her friends know her, Crazy Lizzie—lives in Bellingham and she's a "troubled" teenager. Self-destructive and occasionally suicidal, she's busy trying to cope with modern life when a virus erupts throughout the population. In a week, Lizzie's family is dead.

  Phones are out, internet service is spotty, and Lizzie's only contact with the world is through occasional text messages with other survivors.

  This is hardly the familiar post-apocalyptic novel of zombie attacks and desperate efforts to rebuild civilization—it's a very personal story of one scared girl and the survivors she finds in the ruins of her world. Lizzie is hard-edged and gritty, but also vulnerable and kind. Her personality is so compelling that she grabs you by the heart and pulls you along until it's three in the morning and the story's over and you just want to read more.

  Don't worry, All is Quiet is the first of a series.

  Wizards, Aliens, and Starships: Physics and Math in Fantasy and Science Fiction

  Charles L. Adler

  Princeton University Press, 392 pages,$29.99 (hardcover)

  Kindle: $16.17 (e-book)

  ISBN: 978-0-6911-4715-4

  Genres: Nonfiction

  Not all that many decades ago, Physics and Math were teacher's pets who didn't want anything to do with Science Fiction... they even sniggered in the halls and made rude noises when Science Fiction walked by.

  How things have changed. Science Fiction grew up to be a darling popular culture, and now Physics and Math are all, "Hey, we like Science Fiction too."

  Well, we might turn around and treat them as badly as they treated us... but we're better than that. And heck, they're such a geeky pair of nerds, ya gotta love them.

  Charles L. Adler, professor in the physics department at St. Mary's College in Maryland, is one of us—he's a lifelong fan of SF, and he knows what he's talking about. And Wizards, Aliens, and Starships is a great book for Analog readers, as well as anyone who wants to write hard SF. I mean, it's got honest-to-goodness equations —and the book is dedicated to Poul Anderson.

  In very readable prose, with a good deal of humor, Adler covers a vast variety of topics: Harry Potter's flying car, space elevators, advanced propulsion systems, FTL, alien intelligences, terraforming, Dyson spheres and ring-worlds, and a timeline of the future universe out to a googol years. Along the way he draws many examples from real science fiction, and isn't afraid to speculate when necessary.

  All in all, it's obvious that Wizards, Aliens, and Starships is a love letter to science fiction. Dr. Adler's bio says that he entertains fantasies of one day writing an SF novel... to which I can only say, Come on in, Charles, the water's fine!

  On that note, I'm out of space. Until next time, don't be afraid to enjoy some romance in your science fiction.

  Don Sakers is the author of Children of the Eighth Day and Meat and Machine. For more information, visit www.scatteredworlds.com.

  * * *

  BRASS TACKS

  1710 words

  Mr. Quachri:

  I have been reading Analog, Asimov's, and occasionally , F& SF since my early twenties— well over 30 years. This morning, as I was finishing the last three audio entries of "Life Flight," by Brad R. Torgersen [March 2014], was the first time I had tears in my eyes, running down my cheeks.

  I would like to thank you for choosing this story and Mr. Torgersen for becoming an author and writing the story.

  "Life Flight" should win every award that is available for this year.

  Thank you.

  Mike McCullough Lake Zurich, IL

  Dear Mr. Torgersen,

  Just wanted to let you know that I found one of your stories in the newest issue of Analog. I sat down to soak my back last night, intending to get out of the tub in ten minutes or so. To occupy myself I picked up Analog and started reading "Life Flight" [March 2014]. I expected to find a good stopping point, as I usually do with a novella. The next thing I knew, the water was cold and I was reading the last lines.

  I didn't notice a name for the character so in my mind I've started calling him Moses. They do seem to have a few attributes in common. (Trying not to give anything away...) I will be looking forward to more.

  Kathleen Ross

  Mr. Torgersen,

  I had the opport
unity to read your novelette "Life Flight" in this month's Analog [March 2014]. I carry a soft spot in my heart for stories about generation ships or ark ships traveling through the depths of space, probably from reading Heinlein's "Orphans of the Sky" in the back of my parents' station wagon one summer vacation. My dad was in the Air Force stationed in California, but my mom's family lived in eastern Tennessee. "Sky," along with a new-fangled 8-track player, passed the time as we drove there and back.

  I lived your eighty-year journey, filling in the days with a healthy imagination, steered by your superb storyline. Some stories leave me hanging, but "Life Flight" satisfied me like a sliver of cheesecake after dinner! Thank you.

  Warm regards, Alan England

  Trevor,

  Let me start by saying that I really enjoyed the story "Life Flight" in the March 2014 issue. If it had been published in a lesser magazine than Analog, I would probably leave it at that, but I expect more from Analog. I expect a reasonable attention to technical detail, and we don't get that in the story.

  The problems start in the narrator's journal entry for day 35, where we learn that the ship is accelerating at a rate sufficient to cause the young writer to ask why he feels weight aboard the ship. The answer is that the ship is accelerating continuously, and that the acceleration will increase steadily until it reaches one g. We aren't given the rate of increase, but we do know that it can reach full acceleration before the initial acceleration phase of the journey is completed, because the narrator complains of feeling his "full weight" when the engines are turned back on after the coast phase. The descriptions in the story, which don't include any near weightlessness, suggest that the ship starts accelerating at a significant fraction of one g and gets to full acceleration fairly quickly. However, since the technical issues hinge on high acceleration, let's be conservative and assume that the acceleration starts at near zero and increases linearly to one g at the end of the boost phase (thirty years), averaging 1/2 g.