Revelation Space

The Prefect and Reynolds’ Depth of Character

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Alastair Reynolds is one of my favorite writers working in science fiction today. A little of this has to do with the fact that he writes deep-space tech/idea/adventure-based books that have zero message about utterly trite current politics (see here for more on that). I can read a thick Reynolds book–despite the fact that these are dense, idea and tech-heavy works–in a few days, while most other SF books (and seemingly everything on the last few Hugo ballots) leave me scratching my head and asking myself what kind of reader would enjoy this.

To me, the genre in recent years seems more about showing off political credentials and virtue signaling than any attempt to engage the reader or entertain (which seems weird for a genre like science fiction). Of course, I assume that there are people out there with very different taste from mine, and I further assume that they have to be selling this stuff to someone, or they’ll soon go out of business.

Fortunately Reynolds hasn’t fallen victim to the trend, which is probably why he sells so many books.

The Prefect is a typical Reynolds offering, which is a good thing. This one follows the adventures of two members of the Glitter Band’s police and compliance arm, called Prefects. One is an experienced member of the corps, while the other is a rookie attempting to live down her father’s disgrace.

By focusing so closely on two specific characters in such a large book, Reynolds moves away from the more sprawling style of Revelation Space. Those who criticized his early work as not sufficiently character-based will like this direction while those who enjoyed the mighty Revelation Space books won’t be too annoyed, as it still works.

As always with Reynolds there is a dark edge underlying the marvels he describes, and while most of society is living the dream, we never really get to see it because his characters run head first into that darkness. In that sense it has seriously developed noir sensibilities. Only a tiny fraction of LA in the 1940s was committing murders and blackmail… but that’s the only side you see in noir. Likewise, Reynolds’ universe is one of endless wonders… but you only get to look at the seedy underbelly and the gritty working-class tech people that make it function.

It definitely works. Reynolds’ fiction is worth reading every single time… even if you need to read something light (Wodehouse is ideal) afterwards.

Gustavo Bondoni is a novelist and short story writer who often works with space opera. The well-received Siege is an example on a massive scale, with a galactic war between the tribes of humanity as the backdrop. He follows a doomed group of baseline humans as they prepare for their last stand. You can check it out here.

Beyond Revelation Space

Diamond Dogs, Turquoise Days By Alastair reynolds

Alastair Reynolds is probably the most important writer to enter the SFF genre in the past 20 years or so, certainly the most important to be writing pure SF.  His Revelation Space series reminded everyone of why we like reading SF in the first place.  While others are beating us over the head with their politics, abuse of the English language and fears of the coming eco-apocalypse–and winning awards for that drivel–Reynolds built up a far-flung, plausible future extrapolated from the humanity and technology of today and told an entertaining story therein.

So yeah, Revelation Space earned its solid sales, and the writer’s multi-million pound advance was equally well deserved.

But what happens when you move beyond that?  Let’s have a look, using two of Reynolds’ lesser-known books to illustrate the point (as you’re probably aware, we really like doing these exercises).

Diamond Dogs, Turquoise Days is not a novel.  It’s a collection of two novellas stuck together in one volume, and must be analyzed as such.

It starts off beautifully.  “Diamond Dogs” is pure Reynolds: two humans grappling with an almost unimaginable tech challenge.  On the grand scheme of things, the story might seem like a low-stakes problem, but one increasingly gets the feeling that something important is going on there.  Exciting and interesting.

“Turquoise Days”, on the other hand, is not quite as good.  I think this one tried too hard to pander to what passes for “respectable” SF these days and, for that reason, doesn’t quite reach Reynolds’ usual standards of excellence.  It’s not bad, it just sinks into the quagmire of he current sameness and utter lack of a sense of wonder overrunning the genre.  It also has Solaris envy.

Century Rain by Alastair Reynolds

Century Rain is a very different kettle of fish.  It’s a hugely imaginative, high-concept parallel world / alternate history detective story.  It is conceptually brilliant and a daring change of pace from a man whose strengths lie elsewhere.  The story is somewhat clunky in places but, just like Revelation Space itself, it all comes together seamlessly–and satisfyingly–in the end.

So, what to do?  Well, if you’ve never read any of his work, you absolutely have to start with Revelation Space.  If you haven’t however, I would say that “Diamond Dogs” is a good introduction, but an even better one would be any of his short works.  “Zima Blue” is, in my opinion, the best SF short I’ve read published after the year 1990 by a long margin, and most of the rest of his stories are amazing as well, if, usually much darker than “Zima Blue”.

If you get the impression that the batch above is something of a mixed bag, you’d be right.  Other than “Diamond Dogs”, these two books are best left to the fans.

 

Gustavo Bondoni is an Argentine writer whose novel Siege, though nowhere near as well known, explores many of the same issues as Revelation Space.