The Tuesday List: New Beginnings

The coming of the new year is a time of new beginnings for a lot of people, as those of us who believe in them make resolutions and hope for positive change in the year to come.  Plenty of novels begin with a new beginning, but they’re not always as positive or pleasant as we might imagine for ourselves.  Here’s a brief list of novels featuring new beginnings in some way or another.

  1. The Stars Are Legion, by Kameron Hurley


Amnesia is its own beginning, especially when it happens over and over.  For Zan, finding the source of her lost memories may be just the start of a new world for herself and everyone in her small corner of the universe.  Along the way the reader is served up a hero’s journey of planetary proportions and plenty of gore an intrigue, as one would expect in a KH novel.

2. The Reader, by Traci Chee


Stories are an integral part of Sefia’s world, reading itself is a skill long lost to time and empire.  But somehow a book has survived, and Sefia, on the run from the same people who pursued her parents and killed her father, is learning to read the book one slow letter at a time.  Will finally understanding the past set her free, and allow her to move forward into a future of her own making?

3. Station Eleven, by Emily St. John Mandel


Apocalypse is a special kind of beginning, and Station Eleven is one of the best executed post apocalyptic novels I’ve encountered.  It’s not just about learning to live without electricity or government, but the ways in which everything old can become new again, including art.

4. The Goblin Emperor, by Katherine Addison


Sometimes a new beginning is an empire getting a new face, like when a kingdom of elves finds itself with a half-goblin emperor on its throne, after nearly the entire royal family was killed in a dirigible accident.  Being an outsider can sometimes be an asset, but it can also be a liability, and Maya has very little room to make mistakes.

5. Earthrise (Her Instruments #1), by MCA Hogarth


The advent of interstellar travel didn’t do a Star Trek and get rid of capitalism, and for Reese Eddings, raised on the all-woman Mars colony, the getting beat down by fate and a series of bad trades can’t blunt her obstinate desire to explore and see everything the universe has to offer.  But eventually the money runs out, and she has to consider going home to ask her mother for help.  Until a mysterious benefactor comes through with an offer that seems to good to be true, and Reese just might get a break, after all.

The Tuesday List: Generation Ships

This is one of my favorite sub-genres of science fiction.  The generation ship, usually huge, designed to house a colony, a society, of people for hundreds of years, often part of a pilgrimage or evacuation.  Here are a few of my faves.

  1. Jacob’s Ladder (3-book series), by Elizabeth Bear

This series is feudalism meets genetic engineering.  The exalted, angels, have been genetically modified to pilot the ship, and over the generations have become the ruling class.  The unmodified are peasants, but not without their own knowledge of the huge ship that contains rivers, forests, and futuristic technology spaces.  Will the two factions reach agreement?  Will they find a new planet, and if they do, will they be able to live peacefully?

2. Revelation Space (3-book series), by Alastair Reynolds

I’ve written about this series before, and as I’ve said it was not only my first real introduction to the generation ship, but also to modern hard science fiction.  This series deals with modified humans, kilometer-long ships with their own AI, and an alien species that once wiped out the universe and threatens to do it again if a few scientists and adventurers can’t figure out the historical clues they keep running into.

3. Noumenon, by Marina J. Lostetter


A generation ship full of clones whisks through dilated space towards a strange star cluster, there to gather research about it and then return within 300 years.  And by the time they get back to earth, more than 1000 years will have passed, and will there even be anyone there to remember or care about this scientific mission?

4. An Unkindness of Ghosts, by Rivers Solomon


Humans board the great ship Matilda to escape a dying planet, but after a hundred years racial divisions have sprung up and what was once a utopic vision has turned into the enslaved and their nominal masters.  Aster must discover the secrets to the energy drains that continue to threaten lives among the lowerdecks, and in doing so, can she foment a revolution that will bring justice to the enslaved?

5. The Stars Are Legion, by Kameron Hurley


Generation ships with bonus: generation planets! They’re ships, with both bio and non-biological technology, and they’re the size of planets, and they contain layers and tiers of different cultures, all the way to the center where the giant garbage collectors live, waiting for any waste to come down the chute for recycling.  Zan, cursed with perpetual amnesia, wakes over and over to her lover, a secret plan she can’t remember, and knowledge that she has a mission.  She must get inside another planet, but she doesn’t know how, or why.

The Tuesday List: Give Me My Amazing Action Film Series and No One Gets Hurt

But seriously, how did we get a Power Rangers remake before any of these brilliant series got make into films?

  1. Russell’s Attic, by SL Huang.  The story of math genius Cass Russell, who takes jobs and doesn’t ask too many questions, except when things start to get personal.  This series takes place mostly in Los Angeles, features a hard drinking, tough, loner, math whiz protagonist, and keeps the action going on every page.
  2.  Court of Fives, by Kate Elliott.  Empire, class, and privilege are the backdrop for this series about a young woman trying to do what she loves while following the stifling rules of her family society.  The Fives is a competition of strength, stamina, and skill, with competitors trying for a chance at fame, fortune, and the ruler’s favor.


3. The Bone Universe, by Fran Wilde.  People living in bone towers in the sky, who get around by flying on beautiful and intricate wing sets.  Intrigued yet?  Oh, and they have a fascinating history, society, and then everything goes wrong and the two main characters, Kirit and Nat, must infiltrate basically everywhere and figure it out, and possibly save the whole world.


4. Bel Dame Apocrypha, by Kameron Hurley. On an alien world, probably far in the future, a centuries-long war between two nations ruled by the same religion, but with radically different interpretations of it, featuring bug science, magic, and lots of assassination.


5. Revenger, by Alastair Reynolds.  The only novel that’s not part of a series (yet, as far as I know, though GoodReads seems to want to believe otherwise), this novel is part steampunk, part Victorian values, all space adventure.  Featuring two sisters who run away from home to escape their father’s oppressive household and head straight into danger and adventure on a ship that makes its way by cracking open Baubles–long lost planets full of treasure–and selling them back in civilization.


The Stars Are Legion, by Kameron Hurley

This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but with the withering of membrane and tissue, the slow escape of oxygen and heat into the endless abyss of space, the world ship’s last lurching revolution around an artificial star. The worlds may be dying, but they were long ago bereft of civilization. The Stars Are Legion is space opera for the dark night of the soul, when all hope is gone and only humanity remains.

Apart from being an extremely visceral and suspenseful alt-universe science fiction story, The Stars Are Legion is a novel that dares to ask the question, will humans ever be anything but parasites on the worlds they inhabit? Unlike Golden Age space opera that assumes a natural order to the universe, Hurley has created one in which understanding the artificiality of everything is paramount to—not success or survival, these things are never guaranteed in a Hurley novel—but paramount to being a less shitty version of humanity than the average. Zan, an amnesiac warrior who awakens with nothing but a memory of love and death, must go against everything she’s been told she stands for, plunging into the heart of an alien world with only the surety that dying later is better than dying now.

Hurley’s prose is not poetic or flowing, but full of sharp lines and jagged edges that draw blood as easily as they evoke an image. She doesn’t shy away from the horror of human and biological physicality, highlighting the ways in which we usually abject suffering and violence. Birth, injury, death, rebirth, nothing is without pain, without blood, or without fear. It is only in the small moments, when Zan is forced to live within the worlds she has discovered, that something as small as friendship or hope can be kindled.

The Stars Are Legion is not a hopeful novel; it is not a redemption story or a problem in any way solved. It is, simply, a human story. It tells the lives of those for whom happiness is a momentary cessation, or even weakening, of suffering, rather than a neutral state. It is a necessary story though, and deeply satisfying for the universality of experience it represents.

Rapture, by Kameron Hurley

years in exile, Nyx has finally been offered everything she thought she ever
wanted.  The Bel Dames want her
back, and they want her to fix the mess that’s become of Nasheen in the last
bloody days of the war with Chenja, and the armistice that came after.  To do it, Nyx and her team will have to
travel to the ends of the earth, and she’ll have to give up everything she’s
built in her exile.  Again.

into Rapture, one might expect more
of the same from Hurley; it’s a formula that works and keeps the reader
engaged.  But Hurley changes it up
in the final installment of the Bel Dame Aprocrypha, turning the tale of one
rogue Bel Dame into the story of an evolving world.  Readers will be pleasantly surprised to find that previously
minor characters take on a much larger role in this novel; and the personal
stakes of the plot are much higher.

in this novel is more concrete than in previous installments, particularly as
it is built through dialog and personal interactions.  Nyx grows as a character, in ways that are realistic and in
keeping with everything the reader learns about her throughout the series.  Her hard-won self-knowledge is a great
allegory for the life of a planet that had been at war with its inhabitants
since they arrived, and provides a prescient mirror for what we are
experiencing right here on earth today.

who enjoyed the first two novels in this series will of course enjoy the
conclusion to the stories of a very compelling set of characters.  Hurley has proven herself not just a
strong writer, but one who is able to make the reader think; readers of Phillip
K. Dick, Ursula Le Guin, and Ann Leckie are encouraged to check out this
series, as well as Hurley’s other work. 
This novel and series is recommended for lovers of alternate or future
technology stories, like the work of Alistair Reynolds or Frank Herbert.

Infidel, by Kameron Hurley

centuries people have been seeking a way to end the brutal religious war
between Chenja and Nasheen.  Now it
looks like the one person who might be able to do it is the one who believes it
will never end.  Nyx thought she’d
settled into a life that was somewhat more predictable than it had been when
she was tracking down alien gene pirates. 
Business is, if not booming, at least steady, and she hasn’t been shot
at in a while.  But there’s always
the next assignment to shake things up.

Kameron Hurley’s second installment in her Bel Dame Apocrypha series, and this
time Nyx has even less to lose.  Or
so she had thought.  After God’s War, it seemed impossible that
anything could hit harder, but Infidel
finds ways to further plumb the depths of Nyx’s soul.  Where God’s War asked
questions about human nature and religion, Infidel
takes a deeper look into the psyche of Nyx herself, taking the reader on a trip
through Nyx’s own living hell, pushing her to the limits of even her
strength.  Hurley has written the
kind of anti-hero you can’t help loving, even if Nyx can’t love herself.

writing is crisp, relying on pacing and dialogue to round out her characters
and carry the story forward. 
Hurley’s style allows the reader to get glimpses into each character’s thoughts,
which gives added impact to their actions, especially when the two don’t match
up.  Once again, complicated
relationships make this novel worth reading.

looking for a truly conflicted protagonist will find it in this novel—and
series.  Hurley doesn’t do anything
just for effect; everything matters. 
Science fiction and fantasy lovers will find plenty of it in a world
where giant bugs are the norm and reconstructing a human skin or other
tissue—even reanimating the dead—are the norm for Umayma’s magicians.  The unwinnable war will prove compelling
for many a reader tired of the lofty ideals and cute tropes so rampant in
fantasy writing today.  Gritty and
gutsy are the words for this novel.

Angry As I Want to Be

My entire life—but most especially in the past five years or so—I’ve been baffled by people who think that all women are averse to violence, or anger, or any kind of sudden and intense physical action.  Anyone who had a window into my thoughts for an hour or so would quickly be disabused of that notion.  And then they would say something about how I was “different than other women” and I’d kick them in the teeth.

Point made.

It’s very rare, even in books written by women, for women-identifying protagonists to be really violent or angry and not consistently filter it out, or have it pointed out as a character flaw, or in some other way for it to be a bad thing.  In books written by men any violence or anger in a woman is generally a plot device, or is a thing to be “smoothed out” of her before the story is over.  We have our traditional examples in works like The Taming of the Shrew, and then there are fun new examples like Cersei Lannister in Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire series.  

A couple weeks ago I finished God’s War, by Kameron Hurley, first in the Bel Dame Apocrypha series. In it Nyx, the primary protagonist, is consistently violent and often angry.  She’s violent because she exists in a writhing sea of violence and she has no choice but to be violent in order to survive.  She’s angry for the same reasons, and many more that I won’t get into because of spoilers.  The main point is that all of her feelings and actions are generally justified, in one way or another, even if her specific actions are her choice and not always best-considered.  Another character whose name isn’t Nyx might lay down and give up, or try to respond to the violence in their life in another way, and these would all be equally valid choices for whatever those characters construct as their reasoning.  But Nyx doesn’t react that way.

And she’s not punished for it, or fridged, or any other method that authors have of “fixing” a violent woman.

Hurley has written more than once about her decision not to write sexualized violence into her stories.  And until I read God’s War I never realized how much I appreciated knowing that that type of violence would not occur in a novel.  

I am lucky enough to say that I’ve never been a victim of sexual assault.  There are many people who can’t say that.  Until I came into online spaces, I really wasn’t aware that sexual assault was so pandemic, and that the way we as a society treated victims was so horrible.  I never really “played it safe” when I was younger, never thought I ought to change my own behavior in order not to get raped.  I’d always been as abrasive and reckless as I wanted to be.  I always made decisions based upon what I wanted, not what I didn’t want to happen to me.  

Every woman, I suppose, and many people who don’t identify or present as women, know there is always a possibility that they could be sexually assaulted.  Not all of us have the luxury of believing we shouldn’t have to think about it.  Rape is pervasive in media, in nearly every aspect of our culture.  I went to live in Kazakhstan for a year, and though I never really considered it a possibility, many people—people close to me, my own family, even—were intent upon telling me that my rape was going to happen that year.  Nevermind that the only thing people knew about Kazakhstan was that they didn’t really know anything, the simple fact they had a hard time pronouncing it meant that it was a thing I ought to be worried about, that I should just expect it.  When I joined the Navy a few years before that, my boyfriend at the time tried to use the possibility that I might get raped as a reason not to join.  

I’m still baffled as to why those seemed like valid points for them to make.

But then again a lot of authors and creators throw rape around as if it just a thing that happens to women, as if we should expect it, not be surprised and horrified by it.  And I have to wonder, when I read a book like Game of Thrones, if writers are so casual in their treatment of rape in fiction, what are they like when they are presented with rape and sexual assault in real life?  

There are very few stories in which rape is a good thing to include.  Who Fears Death is a notable example, but Okorafor is making a point about how sexualized violence is used as a form of terrorism and control, and her protagonist is righteously angry about the way she is treated because of it.  Using rape as just a “gritty” form of violence to show how evil a character is, is sloppy writing.  Using rape as the way that a man responds to a violent or angry woman, or exercises control over a woman, is often sloppy writing.  Women are not just vessels to receive sexual violence, and men should not be expected to respond to anger in women with sexual violence.  This type of writing dehumanizes women, turns them into objects who are acted upon.  It should not be normalized.

Even more difficult to parse is writers who treat any violence or anger in a woman as evidence of her sexual urges, another way of normalizing sexual violence against women.  No doubt many of us have read the scene in which a woman and man fighting suddenly turns into a man forcing himself on the woman, suddenly turns into the woman willingly having sex with the man, despite evidence previously presented that the woman hates/dislikes/is disgusted by the man.  This depicts women as strange emotional beings who don’t even know their own minds, who are not in control of their emotions or actions. It conveniently elides the fact that women can be emotional and yet deliberate in their actions, even if they are violent actions.

Segue back to Nyx.  

Nyx gets in a lot of fights, is attacked, is tortured.  Sometimes she wins, most of the time not.  But however violent or angry or demanding or even irrational she is, she is never made into a victim, is never punished—by the author, by the narrative—for any of these things.  She is never sexually assaulted as a way to advance her story arc, or to advance the arc of Rhys, the secondary protagonist who traditionally would be expected to “avenge” her dead and mutilated corpse somehow.  And anyway I can’t help but think that if Nyx were raped she would simply take the next opportunity to kill the person who did it to her and move on with her life.  And that would be just as valid as any other reaction to being raped.  But that doesn’t happen, anyway.

Nyx is jailed and tortured for her part in the novel’s plot, because she acts counter to orders or because she has information that others want, but not as a way to smooth out her character traits or because it is expected because she is a woman.  Even when Nyx fights a man with whom she had a relationship, whose mercenary team she had been on before the novel starts, she is never threatened with sexual violence, is never made less human for being a woman who fights.  She is free to win or lose as her skills and the situation allows, as a human who has emotion, who is violent.  

As a man would, some might say.