Sheri S. Tepper's "Raising the Stones" is sometimes billed as the second part of her "Arbai" trilogy, but that's a misnomer, as this book easily stands on its own. It shares the same universe as its predecessor, "Grass," but is otherwise set one thousand years later and with very few exceptions has no apparent connection to the earlier novel.That said, it's definitely a thematic cousin to "Grass" and much of Tepper's other work in that it deals with religion and women and male privilege. Tepper is a feminist writer in the best sense of the word: she tells a deep and engaging story about women and their struggles in societies that are dominated by men and archaic world views. Her one failing is a tendency to be didactic, but it's a minor drawback at most; the story tells itself through its characters and, once it gets there, rocks on toward a conclusion.There are two different stories that are not obviously connected. One concerns Sam Girat, the leader of an agricultural colony on the world of Hobbs' Land. The other concerns the land of Voorstod, a militant theocracy from which Sam's mother Maire escaped with Sam when he was young, and a conspiracy unfolding there to hasten their religion's end times.Seemingly unconnected to these are the Gods of Hobbs' Land, a possibly intelligent form of life that was worshiped by the Owlbrit, an alien race on the world that died out shortly after humans arrived. The Gods have an uncanny effect on the colonists of Hobbs' Land, in that those people nearby live rather harmoniously with each other. When the children of the settlers pick up where the Owlbrit left off in building temples to the Gods, it's seen as a perfectly natural undertaking. It's only outsiders who consider this a threat.The underlying theme of this book is, in Tepper's phrase, "fooling with your heads." The violent and patriarchal Faithful of Voorstod were obviously drawn from radical Islam. In 1990 when "Raising the Stones" was first published, this might have been seen as hyperbole. In this day of the Islamic State, however, the savagery of Voorstod seems ripped from the headlines. But if the Voorstod achieve their aims through violent repression of women and slavery, there are other forms of influence as well: the High Baidee, another religion, plays a significant role, and although their religion is specifically conceived as not authoritarian, the contradictions inherent in their doctrine -- as in all religions -- leave open wide opportunities for interpretation to achieve less-than-holy goals. Left unsaid is whether the God-worship of Hobbs' Land is a real religion, and whether its adherents' heads have been "fooled with," or even if free will exists in this world.Against this background the drama unfolds through various characters: Sam Girat is a romantic idealist, acutely aware of being taken from his father and desperately seeking some kind of heroic narrative for himself, so much so that he begins to hallucinate. Jeopardy and Saturday Wilm are cousins on the cusp of adulthood who reintroduce the Gods to Hobbs' Land and take up the spread of this new system. Maire Girat, Sam's mother, is now old, but was once a famed singer in Voorstod. Maire wants nothing more than to care for the children of the settlement, and tries to impart a bit of knowledge to her willfully naive son. And on Voorstod, a group of fanatics hatch a plan to bring Maire back as a symbol to other women of Voorstod who would seek to escape.In the telling, these various threads of the tale wend and weave their separate ways until it becomes clear how they are all intertwined. The book is rich, but starts slow, and only picks up pace about halfway in, when it becomes apparent where the lines of conflict are being drawn. It early chapters are quiet, pastoral even, with a bit of alien strangeness taking place that remains unexplained until much later. But as always, the real threat to peace and tranquility comes from other people. Initially the Voorstod conspirators come across as bumbling fools, in that their religion draws upon the most savage and worst stereotypes of radicalism; how could such a set of extremists accomplish a goal of domination of the universe when it seems they can barely get organized enough to carry out a simple kidnapping. And yet, even bumbling bad people can inflict a lot of damage when good people don't heed the warning signs.If there's a lesson in "Raising the Stones," it's against all forms of authority, and the Gods of Hobbs' Land certainly seem to stand in for a kind of communitarian ideal. But that's secondary to what is overall a ripping good read. The menace of the Voorstod is similar in some ways to that of the hippae of "Grass," but all the more dangerous for the cold calculation that drives it. This book can be read both as a sequel or on its own. Either way, it's wonderful.
I'd forgotten quite how amazing this book is. Tepper when she is on form writes grippingly and her characters are really well formed. The Grass/Stones/Sideshow trilogy is my absolute favourite of hers, and of the three books, I think Stones is the best. The plot is multi-layered and intriguing, and I LOVE the idea of the Hobbs Land Gods (and the reasons why some people/cultures/religions might think that they might not be a good thing). I just wish they were real as to be honest, the world could do with some Hobbs Land God's induced harmony and co-operation at the moment.This is one of those books which I wish was longer, I want to know more about the characters and more about the impact of the Gods on human societies. It was with great regret that I closed the book after finishing the last page. And I think that is the sign of a really excellent novel, it leaves you wanting more.
What do You think about Raising The Stones (2002)?
Just finished reading for the 3rd or 4th time, this time with my partner. It's a different experience reading Tepper's works out loud. Her sermons about religion and philosophy have always seemed to stretch out much longer than necessary, but they do this even more so when you have to speak through all the words. Kris was distracted and annoyed by the strange names in the beginning, but got used to it, and was amazed by the book by the end. This is a great example of Tepper's complexity. Multiple characters on multiple planets collide and mix in a way that seems impossible, but works out to be perfect, as only fiction can be. Still, she makes the most fantastic scenarios seem plausible and realistic. If you read this book, you should also read Grass, as the stories are connected (but not dependent on each other).
—James Owen Ether
This book was pretty uneven. There were parts of it that I loved, and (usually longer) parts I was bored by. It could have benefited from some tightening up; the parts that bored me seemed to be just waiting for the plot to catch up with the exposition. However, even though it probably contributed to the book's length, I liked the fact that the story was told from so many characters' perspectives. Especially because this isn't a story about individuals, but about societies, it seems necessary to have many characters' interpretation of the same huge, earth-shaking events.This is also possibly the funniest, wittiest book by Sheri S. Tepper that I've read yet, as well as containing some really thoughtful discussion of religion and patriarchal cultures.The plot, as brief as I can make it: on a sparsely populated farming planet called Hobbs Land, the settlers notice that one of the settlements is becoming unusually prosperous. Its harvests are always good, and its people get along really, really well together. As it turns out, this is due to the presence of a temple built by the previous inhabitants of the planet; a real god lives in that temple. The god (actually a sort of sentient, telepathic fungus) adopts the settlers and spreads to all of their towns, which attracts off-planet visitors to Hobbs Land to check it out. At the same time, religious fundamentalists on another planet are trying to overthrow the interstellar government, and this plot intersects with the other plot by the last few chapters.I've seen the idea of a living god before, in some of Frank Herbert's books, where the deity is called "Avata" and is a kind of sentient kelp. I think a fungus is a better choice than a plant, though: fungi, with their extensive mycelial nets, are likelier candidates for joining people together into some kind of hive-mind.
—Lindsay
This was good stuff. Like lots of Tepper's books, it grappled with issues of gender roles and spirituality. The story takes place in a solar system where there are several occupied worlds. One of these worlds, a relative backwater, has some indigenous gods. They look like big stones that live in little houses, and are tended by the Ones Who. The Ones Who are people who just start to feel as though they would like to take care of the local god. On this planet, there is little conflict or struggle in the local population. Sometimes people get disgruntled and leave, but mostly life is pretty contented.On another world, there is a conservative religious society that believes that women are chattel and have also enslaved the native inhabitants. This group of men are extremists who can't seem to stop fighting, with their wives, with their slaves, or with each other.You may guess that these two societies are going to come into contact. And something is going to happen. The only reason I didn't give the book 5 stars is because I think it could have benefitted from one more edit. It's a little too long and a little too wordy - but it really made me think, and I was entertained while I was doing it.
—Emily
