The Robot Detective

"I sat down to write a story that would be a classic mystery and that would not cheat the reader - and yet would be a true science fiction story," Isaac Asimov states in the beginning of Caves of Steel.  And he succeeded.

It's difficult to write a science fiction book that creates a viable and breathing world; it's a completely different skill to create a world that is scientifically relevant 60 years later. In Asimov's Earth, humans live in enclosed, self-contained Cities of millions, live off of yeast rations and fear entering open air. Other planets have been colonized and warred with Earth for their freedom. His ideas pulse in worlds where daily things are made strange and miraculous; the crunchiness of an apple, the whispering sensation of wind, night falling. But I wouldn't expect any less from the man who coined the term "robotics."

In this strange future, Earth detective Elijah Baley has to solve the murder of a prominent man from the Outer Worlds, a Spacer. The City bubbles with anti-robot riots and churns with contempt for the occupying Spacers. To maintain the delicate balance of peace between the Spacers and Earthmen, Baley must solve the murder before his Spacer partner does. Daneel Olivaw, a robot, is his only aid as he investigates, interviews and instigates discord until something breaks. His friends, Spacers, his fellow officers, his robot partner, even his wife are caught up in the investigation.

Completely apart from brilliant time-tested science fiction, this novel stands up as a well written mystery. The reader can make guesses, but it's only in the last 5 pages, when Asimov decides, that the mystery unravels. All the twists, wrong guesses, turns and near misses crystallize into that moment of realization that makes a mystery worth the adventure. To those who say a good science fiction mystery is a contradiction in terms, I challenge them to read Caves of Steel. Upon closing the pages, you will not only be convinced, but addicted.

Veronika Decides to Die and Should Have

Veronika Decides to Die. Catchy, right? This title drew me in completely. The book is beautifully written, tragically romantic; a portraiture of human nature at it's most hopeful and in it's barest moments. Yet in the final pages, the beauty falls away to reveal a manipulative puppet and his prank.

"Veronika had decided to die on that lovely Ljubljana afternoon, with Bolivian musicians playing in the square, with a young man passing by her window, and she was happy with what her eyes could see and her ears could hear. She was even happier that she would not have to go on seeing those same things for another thirty, forty, or fifty years, because they would lose all their originality and be transformed into the tragedy of a life in which everything repeats itself and where one day is exactly like another."

Truly, it began with such hope. A young woman, Veronika, from Slovenia decides to kill herself. She had two very well thought-out reasons to die: everything in her life was the same and the only change that would be imminent was death anyway, and second, the world was continually becoming a worse place to live and she was powerless to stop it. But her suicide attempt was only that. As a result she was taken to Vilette, a mental hospital, where she is told her attempt on her life shortened it to mere days. In Vilette, under her death sentence, she learns the flexible definition of "crazy," the fulfillment and richness to be enjoyed from a life lived and an appreciation for every single day.

And then Paulo Coelho pulls the rug out from underneath his characters and the whole card castle comes tumbling down. Dr. Igor, the doctor who runs Vilette, was experimenting on Veronika, seeing if the fear of dying would cure her imbalance of what he calls "bitterness." If Veronika had died, then at least she would have lived in the time given her. But now, she will end up right where she started, only older and more worn. Her life will become the tragedy she always feared. In the end, nothing changed. The experience is a farce, a reality that reveals itself to be a dream. As the reality leaves, the color, emotions and truths disperse into meaninglessness and leave the reader not only unsatisfied but robbed.

The End of Paperbacks

Electronic readers are everywhere. This will be the future, it is inevitable. As iPods overtook CDs, which overtook cassettes, so the electronic readers will replace the delightfully cumbersome paperback novels that line our shelves. It was only a matter of time for the comfort of a well-worn novel to fall by the wayside for the ability to carry hundreds of books at once.

This is not to say that Kindles, Readers and other brands of this device are not without advantages. On average $200 to $400, they are certainly not a bad investment in comparison to a library full of hardbacks. There are hundreds of thousands of ebooks available to purchase with some available for free. They have bookmark functions and sophisticated screens meant to mimic the real thing. Electronic readers hold up to hundreds of books, allowing for mood rather than availability to decide your reading material.

Eventually libraries will be obsolete and books will be museum pieces, and the sensation of reading will be forever different. But for me, the tactile experience of a book, an actual book, is part of the magic. The smell of old pages, the smoothness of a worn cover, the satisfaction of picking up a book and remembering the last time you held it, these things are part of the experience. And something I will not give up.

The Well Written Rape

Alice Sebold's The Lovely Bones probably sat on everyone's shelves untouched as other more interesting looking books passed the readers eyes first. I can tell you that was the case with me. I always saw something that I thought looked better, more interesting, more what I was in the mood for.....you know. I had no idea what I was missing.

Sebold’s writing is a masterful handling of this delicate art. The rape and murder of a young girl is something that must be done so carefully. The reader must witness her pain; the writer must flesh out the sensations but not so much as to be smothering. You must have enough pain, embarrassment, helplessness, powerlessness and fear to make it real, yet refrain from taking to the complete truth, which is a violence we can’t handle.

Sebold crafts this key scene with a care and precision that makes you know you can trust her; that she will be taking you somewhere real. Very often authors create something and hope that readers will embrace it, allow this story in. But Sebold created a world that allows the reader in. This gift is so rare and the distinction between the two so hard to make, that very few are recognized for being able to do this.

Her prose is beautiful, the story compelling, but the thing that rises strongest from this work is Sebold's talent. Quiet and unassuming, it envelops and draws you in. And when you reach the end, the hold that was placed upon you, completely unawares, is broken. As it slowly dissipates, a quiet satisfaction settles in.

-noun: a Loose Dress or A loose Woman

Emma Donoghue’s Slammerkin explores both meanings of the word in her work inspired by an 18th century newspaper story. Mary Saunders is a woman whose life is defined, imprisoned and sentenced by her addiction to fine fabrics. She traded her innocence for a shiny red ribbon, her body repeatedly for silk, satin and lace, and her happiness for fine embroidery.

After trading away her virginity, Mary decides men invading her body might as well pay the rent. She finds, after a time, that there’s an illicit liberty found in her lifestyle. There’s a freedom to live her life through her decisions, something that was denied her in socially accepted “honest living.” Ashamed of enjoying her disreputable lifestyle, her companion Miss Doll, points out that everyone sells themselves somehow. Wet nurses, respected in their trade, use their bodies for income as well. As Doll observes, “Cunny or tits, what’s the difference?”

Every decision Mary made continued her life’s downward spiral. Even after leaving London’s red light district and moving to a small village in Wales, her desire for finery still smolders. She embraces a new life as a servant for a dressmaker, where she lives surrounded yet distanced from the opulent fabrics she’s always craved. Her gift for self-destructive choices continues as she picks up her old habits and tears the home of her employer apart.

In the end it’s not destiny, fate or even choice that seals Mary’s fate. It’s an eruption of pressure, a movement without thought and a moment of weakness; in short, human nature. She saw her deepest desire being torn from her and simply reacted. Mary’s decisions wove her daily life, but it was her human nature that took it from her.