Short Book Reviews: Imprisoned in Darkness

Her Silhouette, Drawn in Water, by Vylar Kaftan (Tor)

This lovely novella reminds me of water-colors, painted with a deft touch, often evoked rather than explicitly depicted as layers of illusion are dispelled. The story opens with Bee, incarcerated in a series of caverns with only one companion, her lover, Chela. Although her crime was blowing up a space ship, she has no memory of it. Food and other supplies are delivered, but the two of them never encounter another human being. Gradually, though, Bee realizes she has telepathic powers that are nullified by a chip in her brain, supposedly related to her crime. The more she tries to reach out with her mind, the more agonizing the consequences, and the more frantic Chela becomes to maintain their status quo, to not challenge their imprisonment, and to keep Bee emotionally entangled with her.

Slowly Bee peels away the layers of illusion, and I won’t reveal what comes to light, as “the pleasure is in the journey.” Suffice it to say that I kept turning the pages, pausing to savor the nuanced, exquisitely crafted prose. Her Silhouette, Drawn in Water showcases Kaftan as an author of immense skill and sensitivity. The end suggest that Bee’s story will continue, and I for one will be looking forward to it!

I would not be surprised if this book was an award contender.

Today's Moment of Art

The Park, Andrei Shilder (1861-1919)

Escapism and Pleasure

One of the criticisms of genre fiction that amuses me most is that it's escapism, as if that's a bad thing. I think just the opposite. Nobody, except the unbelievably incompetent, escapes to jail. (I'm not talking about the chronically incarcerated who, unable to function in normal society, deliberately choose actions that will return them to imprisonment, although that's an interesting image when it comes to preferred reading material.) No, the direction of escape is toward freedom, imagination, innovation, pleasure. In other words, we move toward becoming bigger, richer lives. So what is “escapism” an accusation of? Why is it bad to want something better?

What do we mean by “escape”? Escape from what? The critics mean, of course, escape from "real" life: responsibility, order, duty, piety. Underlying this notion is the assumption that life should be serious (serious = grim, humorless, unpleasant, joyless). You should work hard and deny yourself pleasure "for your own good." You should accept the way things are ("be realistic"). If you find reality oppressive and intolerable, it's because there's something wrong with you. You're weak-willed, inadequate, ineffectual, immature, lazy, stupid . . . you've heard the litany. I've exaggerated a bit here to make a point, which is that this attitude ("life sucks, get used to it") arises from a pernicious blend of Puritanical abhorrence of pleasure and the need for conformity in an industrialized society. Under such a system, the two greatest sins are to seek delight and to follow one's own preferences. In other words, to not only be open to change but to create it, to challenge the established order, to question and to dream.  To value joy above productive capacity and meaningfulness above popularity. To be an individual, not a cog in an assembly line, to sometimes be productive but other times contemplative -- in other words, to be unpredictable and unique.

When we speak of pleasure, we cannot avoid the issue of sensory pleasure and sexual ecstasy. Sexuality is a powerful, primal source of energy. No wonder industrialists are afraid of it, except when they can use it to sell things. They want us to be consumers, not originators. This brings me to a second way in which escapism is considered bad, and that is as a force of appeasement, of sedation, a means to drain off rebellious energy and maintain the status quo. I think genre literature, especially fantasy and science fiction, works exactly in the opposite way. The dichotomy and mutual exclusivity between body and mind or spirit is not a universal belief, nor is the insistence on negating or minimizing the importance of the full range of physical sensations. They are, however, tools of a hierarchical society. People are, after all, easier to control when they can be convinced to invalidate their direct experiences of themselves and the world, to distrust themselves and instead trust an external authority. Pleasure must be sinful when it seduces people from abject obedience. And yet, in every age and circumstance, people consistently seek it out, whether through sex or music or drugs or listening to a whopping good tale.

Short Book Reviews: Death Stalks a Killer

Cruel Fate, by Kelley Armstrong (Subterranean)

I loved Kelley Armstrong’s previous “Cainsville” novella, Rough Justice, which was my introduction to her work. In the small town of Cainsville, outside Chicago, fae have made a home, as secure as any in the modern world. The central characters, Olivia, her boyfriend, attorney Gabriel, and her former boyfriend and biker, Ricky, are incarnations of characters from Welsh legend, most notably in their participation in the Wild Hunt, that infallible instrument of fatal justice against the guilty. Both novellas combine mystery, drama, and evolving relationships in a highly satisfying way.

In Cruel Fate, Olivia’s father has just been released from prison, exonerated as a serial killer. He’s not entirely innocent, however, having murdered the real serial killer. Now someone’s after him, and it’s up to Olivia and Gabriel to find out who and why before her father becomes a victim, himself.

One problem I had with the previous book was the slowly evolution of the relationships, but reading a second novella gave me perspective and pacing. While both can be read as stand-alones, I found a deeper enjoyment in seeing self-discovery and progressive mutual understanding while a dramatic mystery unfolds. The good news is that there are a whole bunch of these stories. Now I want to go back to the beginning and read them all.

Today's Moment of Art

Lev Lagorio - Night on the Neva, St. Petersburg; 1881