Zach stood at his desk to write his review of David Brin's interminably boring science fiction novel, Glory Season.I'd better start off by mentioning how tedious it was to listen to the main character's thoughts in every other paragraph, Zach thought to himself. That way, the people reading this review will understand my frustration with having the author spell out every tiny nuance of the main character's motivation in tiresome detail, as if internal monologue were the only way to accomplish this feat in writing.Zach raised his arms to the keyboard, feeling the muscles in his shoulders, back, and neck tense up. He laid the heels of his palms on the ergonomic padding and placed his fingertips on the keys of the home row, preparing to type his review. It really bothered me how often the exact condition of all the protagonist's main muscle groups was described right in the middle of an ostensible action sequence, he thought. I wonder how I can best get across what an obstacle this was to my enjoyment of the novel. Just as he began to type, he experienced a flashback for the purposes of character development and world building.It's pretty inconvenient to my readers to continually break up the narrative with all this back-story exposition. But how else can I establish setting and character? Zach was swept back in his mind to weeks earlier, when he was reading David Brin's interminably boring science fiction novel, Glory Season, and thinking about the premise of a woman-dominated agrarian civilization. I would have thought this would be so much juicier, but it's incredibly dry and bland. Ethan of Athos did a much better job of exploring the converse scenario, a world composed solely of men, and did so despite being shorter and spending much less time on the unusual planet. And unlike Glory Season, it actually challenged gender stereotypes, rather than just snidely reversing some and tacitly endorsing others.Just then, Zach's aching calf muscles, fatigued from his long stand at his desk, spasmed painfully, dumping him to the carpet. His head brushed the desk on the way to the ground, knocking him unconscious.Zach came to an indeterminate amount of time later, his lapse into senselessness hopefully having created some dramatic tension. He stood warily to resume writing his review. Why does the main character get knocked out so often? he wondered. It's like two thirds of the plot movements occur while she's dead to the world. Want to talk about gender stereotypes? How about female hypo-agency? How about a "heroine" who is shuttled like a pawn from scene to scene, unconscious as often as not, with no understanding of what's going on or what her goal is?Zach again placed his hands on the keyboard to begin writing. Suddenly, he was overcome by another flashback memory. He decided to explore it fully, unconcerned what this would do to the pacing or readability of his book review. He thought back to his computer science education, and learning about cellular automata.These are pretty interesting for someone completely enamored with mathematics and puzzles, like I am, he thought, but I'm quite obviously abnormal in that regard. He watched the little black and white squares flicker on and off on his computer screen, as he sat in a dimly lit basement lab surrounded by pale, friendless virgins with poor hygiene. Most men would rather do anything else than play Conway's game of life -- even with my unusually abstract interests I find it only mildly engaging. There is absolutely no chance that this game would ever, ever, ever become the basis of a popular pastime.Zach sighed deeply, and shook his head at Brin's indefensible choice to make Life the basis of male recreation in his world. And that's just one of so many problems with this book. How can I possibly convey everything that's wrong with it? Well, I had better get started and see where it gets me. He again rested his fingers on the home row, feeling the muscles ache in his back, forearms, and shoulders, resolved to begin writing.Just then, Zach lost consciousness.
An interesting, thought provoking and well established anthropological read, Glory Season presents the coming-of-age tale of the var, Maia. Vars, or variants, are summer children born of a mother and father, and are essentially second class citizens. The winter clones are daughters whose 'fathers' are only used to 'spark' gestation (males being required only to spark the development of the placenta), resulting in clone daughters identical to their mothers. The winter clones belong to family clans who prosper (or not, resulting in a dying clan) based on their marketable skill-set niche. A goal of many vars is to find a niche within which they can succeed enough to be able to create a clan of their own. This desire to find a niche of their own, and to survive and prosper in Stratos society, is the underlying goal of Maia and her twin (as opposed to clone) sister Leie. However, through events outside of their control Maia and Leie are separated, resulting in Maia being forced to face a future on her own without the sister with whom she was to form a successful clan.Not a bad read: it took a little bit for me to get fully into it, but once I did I quite enjoyed Glory Season. One thing I enjoy about Brin's works is that his alien species are actually alien, and not just humans in an alien suit (I.e. Aliens with human motivations, goals and behaviours). Glory Season, whilst having genetically tinkered humans, is sufficiently alien enough to have a refreshingly convincing alien society, with Stratos-specific behaviours and beliefs designed to complement the genetically-modified lifestyle established by the Founding Mothers. This lifestyle and history was cleverly integrated into the story bit by bit throughout the first half of the novel, enabling the reader to become familiar with this aspect of Stratos society, before being introduced to another facet, or expanding on what had already been presented. The timing of the presentation of this information was also done well, so that there were no real examples of the reader wondering what exactly easy going on. This was a refreshing change from an artificial-feeling word dump (e.g. Where Character A conveniently explains to Character B *everything* about a particular person/society/event) in the middle of the book, which the reader must digest before continuing on with the story. Instead, the background information flowed nicely with, and complemented, the story line.However, whilst this was an interesting, and enjoyable, read, it didn't really have the impact that would move it to my "must read over and over again" list. I found the ending to be a bit fragmented and anti-climatic, which was disappointing in an otherwise well-grounded and well written novel.
What do You think about Glory Season (1994)?
Just recalled this book from the dark depths as I finished another sci-fi, Calculating God.This book set the tone for me of what I now consider good sci-fi. No space battles, no inter-species trysts, just a good speculative romp through the possible future of humanity, gender, cloning, class society, determinism, and the search for meaning.I remember finishing it in the wee hours, on a school-night I'm sure, and beginning to read it again immediately, cover to cover.I can't recall exactly when I realized the epiphany this book gave me. That we live in a clockwork universe. That given full knowledge of all particles and the nature of their movement, we would be able to predict the future, if not examine the past. A machine doing this would be a powerful tool, although somewhat paradoxical. An intelligence doing this would be god. Well, it would need to be god, but perhaps omniscience does not make one A god or vice versa.The other thing this book made reference to was John Conway's Game of Life. A spectacular tool for examining algorithmic interpretations of life itself. I would use it to create beautiful wallpapers for my computer. Digital representations of ecosystems with the organic complexity of life, but made of tiny, perfect, squares.
—anday androo
This is just the sort of SF I like - intelligent without being too difficult to follow, great plots without being cheesy and some excellent characters.The story follows Maia, a 'variant' born by fatherhood, rather than the cloning that is the norm on planet Stratos. When forced to leave her childhood home, with her twin, Leie, they plan on becoming rich, finding their niche and creating a clone family of their own. But when tradegy strikes, Maia finds herself drawn into a political and radical conspiracy. What first seems like a simple drug trafficking problem, soon encompases an alien visitor, secret basis and the corruption of so much of the planet's history. Maia, using her ability to see patterns in everything, finds herself one of the keys to solving the whole thing.This is such a brilliant world to set a story, different in so many ways to other books with its kind of setting. The characters are immediately likeable and Maia is a very gutsy girl!! I didn't like the ending that much, but only because I like happy ones, and was left with a big craving to return to this world for future stories. Unfortuatley, it doesn't look as if the author has thought to flesh it out into a series.So, overall, one of the best books I have ever read - firmly one of my favourites.
—Dark-Draco
Excellent idea for a novel and exciting to read a lot of the time. At least three characters you really care about. The theory behind this story is awesome, and even plausible. Like a lot of sci-fi, too much world information is thrown at you before you've been drawn into the story enough to want that much detail. The world-building/world-explaining never ends. It's a rich place, but could have done with fewer groups and less social detail for a one-off story. The main character was a little too Nancy Drew at times ("Bleeders! I don’t know anybody. [Character]’s gone. And I’m in it now, right up to my neck!"). Her sister was completely obnoxious. Almost all of the scene transitions involve the main character getting knocked out, drugged or otherwise incapacitated -- which the book at least started making fun of at a certain point. Got mired in detail, like the rules of a made up game within the book, or simply slowed to molasses at times when certain characters were imprisoned (which happened constantly) or at other physical impasses.
—Adam
