a book that starts like this is bound to be good

The day war was declared, a rain of telephones fell clattering to the cobblestones from the skies above Novy Petrograd. Some of them has melted in the heat of re-entry; others pinged and ticked, cooling rapidely in the postdawn chill. An inquisitive pigeon hopped close, head cocked to one side; it pecked at the shiny case of one of device, then fluttered away when in beeped. A tiny voice spoke: "Hello? Will you entertain us?" The Festival had come to Rochard's World.

Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came

Just finished Stephen Kings “The Dark Tower”, the final volume in the series of the same name. Reading the series has been a diverse experience for me: while I liked the first four volumes, the next two – Wolves of the Calla and Song of Suannah, did have considerable lengths. So I approached the last volume with mixed feelings. First the things I didn’t like:
Some of the plot lines built up in previous volumes (Walter, Mordred) were dispensed with rather quickly. Also, I felt that I detected more than a note of smugness in King’s continuous references to other literary works, which add nothing to the story but seems designed to show off how much he has read. Additionally, his constant reference to the dialect the characters speak detracts from the story – this is not a linguistic treatise after all.

Despite all this, King still writes well, the story is fast paced (in contrast to the previous two volumes) and, if we have the courage to read to the bitter end, we learn what Roland finds on top of the tower. Several fans have not liked King’s ending but to me it seems exactly right. All in all, we get the strong feeling that we have travelled a long way with Roland and his friends and that we have come to the end of the road. Indeed, the series spans not only seven volumes but also 34 years. Reading the final volume is thus an intensive experience – time to rest!

No more lies

Another one of my favorites, this time a the non-fictional account of Daniel Ellsberg leaking the Pentagon Papers:

On the evening of October 1, 1969, I walked out past the guards' desk at the Rand Corporation in Santa Monica, carrying a briefcase filled with Top Secret documents, which I planned to photocopy that night. The documents were part of a 7,000-page Top Secret study of U.S. decision-making in Vietnam, later known as the Pentagon Papers. The rest of the study was in a safe in my office. I had decided to copy it all and make it public: perhaps through Senate hearings, or the press if necessary. I believed this course, especially the latter possibility, would probably put me in prison for the rest of my life. How I came to do this, is the focus of this memoir.

For eleven years, from mid-1964 to the end of the war in May 1975, I was, like a great many other Americans, preoccupied with our involvement in Vietnam. When I saw the conflict as a problem, I tried to help solve it; when I saw it as a stalemate, I tried to help extricate ourselves, without harm to other national interests; when I saw it as a crime, I tried to expose and resist it—and above all, to help end it immediately.

http://www.ellsberg.net/

1984 and all that

Even though 1984 is long gone, the novel of the same type remains with us as a stark warning. However, David Brin argues that Orwell's book has actually prevented this nightmare vision from happening. And, despite warnings of gloom, things are - at least in the "West" - not as bad as 70 years ago:

In fact, over half of those alive on Earth today never saw war, starvation or major civil strife with their own eyes. Most never went more than a day without food. Only a small fraction have seen a city burn, heard the footsteps of a conquering army, or watched an overlord exercise capricious power of life and death over helpless serfs. Yet these events were routine for most of our ancestors.
Of course, when I speak of fractions, that still leaves hundreds of millions who have experienced such things! I won't minimize the terrors so many still endure. Our consciences should be prodded by the relentless power of television into compassion and vigorous action.
Still, it's worth noting that things have changed a bit since humanity wallowed in horror, back in the middle years of the Twentieth Century. The ratio of humans who now live modestly safe and comfortable lives (though in conditions modern North Americans might deem scanty) has never been greater. It means the slope hasn't been all down, since the despair of 1942. Some might even argue that progress has been made.

Read more at http://www.davidbrin.com/1984article.html

The point, however, is that in order to avoid "1984" we need to be on our guard against those wishing to implement it, see post below.

Slightly Orwellian

The trumpet-call had let loose an enormous volume of noise. Already an excited voice was gabbling from the telescreen, but even as it started it was almost drowned by a roar of cheering from outside. The news had run round the streets like magic. He could hear just enough of what was issuing from the telescreen to realize that it had all happened, as he had foreseen; a vast seaborne armada had secretly assembled a sudden blow in the enemy’s rear, the white arrow tearing across the tail of the black. Fragments of triumphant phrases pushed themselves through the din: ‘Vast strategic manoeuvre—perfect co-ordination—utter rout—half a million prisoners—complete demoralization—control of the whole of Africa—bring the war within measurable distance of its end—victory—greatest victory in human history—victory, victory, victory!’

The voice from the telescreen was still pouring forth its tale of prisoners and booty and slaughter, but the shouting outside had died down a little. The waiters were turning back to their work. One of them approached with the gin bottle. Winston, sitting in a blissful dream, paid no attention as his glass was filled up. He was not running or cheering any longer. He was back in the Ministry of Love, with everything forgiven, his soul white as snow. He was in the public dock, confessing everything, implicating everybody. He was walking down the white-tiled corridor, with the feeling of walking in sunlight, and an armed guard at his back. The long-hoped-for bullet was entering his brain.

From 1984

Impressive books I: the year of our war

"Weird but great" – that was my alternative suggestion for the heading. I picked up “the year of our war” at the Brussels book fair, which is quite unlike dignified events such as the Frankfurt bookfair. Rather than authors reading from their works and receiving more or less welcome media attention, in Brussels the book fair consists of nothing more than a huge hall in the EXPO building stacked with tables full of books. The prices are incredibly cheap with books that are just two or three years old costing around 3-8 Euros. How the organisers do it I don’t understand, and couldn’t care.

Anyway, equipped with a trolley (provided by the organisers) I walked around, picked up a book here and there and finally came across “the year of our war”, glancing at the description on the back: humans fighting insects. Seemed like a gory affair, the usual Fantasy battle stuff so I put it down, only to pick it up again a bit later. Something about the title sounded promising as if the story wouldn’t be the usual crap. The volume was slim (my trolley was filling up rapidly) and the price was cheap so I took it along and made my way to the exit. Being exiled in Bonn I stayed at a friends place. I needed something to read at night and, as it was slim, I started with “the year of our war”.

As soon as I arrived in Lowespass I bought a newspaper and read it in the shadow of the fortress wall --

CASTLE CALLS FOR REINFORCEMENTS -- RACHISWATER OFFENSIVE CONTINUES
The Castle has demanded eight thousand fresh troops to be raised from the Plainslands to join the Awian Fyrd on the Lowespass front. Awian soldiers led by King Dunlin Rachiswater have forced the Insects westward, exposing the remains of Lowespass town, which was lost in the Insect advance last year.
In a joint press conference held on Friday with Comet representing the Castle, King Rachiswater announced that five kilometers of ground had been recovered. He pointed out that this was the first time the Wall had been pushed back in twenty years. His Majesty appealed for "our brothers of the Plainslands" to send reinforcements so the advance could continue. Comet reported that the Emperor was 'pleased" with the success of the Awian operation.
Lowespass town now presents a dramatic sight, shocking to those who have not seen the works of Insects before. To the scorched walls and timbers -- the town was burned before evacuation -- Insects have added their complex of gray paper constructions with pointed roofs resembling houses. The ground is riddled with their tunnels.
Awian losses in the last two weeks were heaviest in the infantry, with one thousand fatalities and as many injured. Five hundred of the cavalry were killed, while the archers, all under Lightning's command, suffered twelve injured. None of the immortals has been harmed, and they continue to encourage the troops. Veterans of the campaign have been promised settlements in newly recovered lands.
Comet said that despite such determined efforts the terror of an Insect swarm appearing remains significant. He reported that the buildings stretch for kilometers behind the Wall. He said, "Flying over it is like --


Nothing of this made much sense, but hey, this was only page 1. Thoughts of sleep were forgotten and I dug deeper. At what time I finally dozed off I can’t remember but I continued reading in the morning while enjoying a glorious dawn on the terrace of the flat (it was October but still warm). I finished the book on the train back to Bonn with the thought “what kind of stuff did that guy take??” In my mind the picture of the author as an about 40ish ex-junkie emerged, albeit one with considerable literary talent. Back at work I did a Google search only to find out that the author is, in fact, a young women about my age. Now talk about surprise.

“The year of our war” will keep a special place in my literary heart for doing what few other books have recently done. Having read SF and fantasy since I was twelve not many books surprise me anymore. This one, however, is genuinely fresh and combines so many influences it is hard to categorise. I also liked the denseness of the novel, the fact that you really only find out what you’re dealing with during the course of the book, that it is not taken from some stock situation (evil AI, evil aliens, first contact etc). I read somewhere that Swainston has had the fourlands in her mind since her youth. The rich details and texture of her world make that a probably assertion.

You want to know what the book is all about? Well, you have to find that out for yourself.
http://www.harpercollins.com/global_scripts/product_catalog/book_xml.asp?isbn=0060753870&tc=cx

Carnival is upon us

In the last couple of weeks Bonn has slowly but surely moved towards carnival season (the “fifth season” as they call it here). In fact, the whole city has undergone an apparently annual transformation process, which I as a first timer find fascinating. It started with a lonely carnival flag outside some window, soon to be joined by others. Then notices of carnival sessions started to appear and at sometimes I got a glimpse of strangely clothed people walking to and fro. The flags and notices continued to multiply (“carnival will be celebrated here”) to be joined by carnival commercials from local service providers and more frequent sightings of strangely clothed people (one I saw playing a flute).

Now that carnival is upon us the house next to me suddenly exhibits a huge board with a carnival inscription. Even the local supermarket staff are suddenly wearing costumes.

One of the things I noticed: the two most popular costumes are either uniforms (apparently based on the era of the Napoleon) or clowns. Well, I can only agree with Terry Pratchett that clowns are simply not funny and as for the soldiers, well, no comment from me…