Where Angels Fear To Tread . . . Or, My Top Five Fantasy Novel List

Not quite a novel, but I love it anyway

Lists are inherently exclusive.  The five books below represent what I think of as emblematic of the fantasy genre.  They're also the first books of series (since I can't in good conscience recommend some of the series as a whole.  But the first book is often outstanding.)  This list also happens to include my top five favorite fantasy books.  The rubric I used to determine this list is simple: Did I enjoy the book, and did I read it again?  A book that is fun the first time, and continues to be satisfying on a second reading is an outstanding read.  In genre fiction that is especially important since by definition fantasy fiction is also escapist.  So, if it draws you back in, it has the emotional and intellectual rigor to hold up under multiple readings.

You'll notice some books that are obviously missing, and I'm sure you'll disagree with me over why they haven't been included.  Your opinion is valid; this list is at best a value judgement on my own part, and not meant to reflect poorly on your opinions.

However, I still think Game of Thrones is just boring.

So here's the list!

5. The Dragonbone Chair -- Tad Williams.

The Dragonbone Chair might be the first major fantasy work that I ever read.  It was during the brief span when I was introduced the the genre, along with the Farseer Trilogy and the Wheel of Time.  Tad Williams is still a major voice in the genre and represents an older perspective on the fantastic.  His world is reminiscent of Tolkien -- he admits that he wrote the book as a specific response to Lord of the Rings.  But the world is uniquely his own and he thoroughly expands on themes which would eventually become tropes.

4. The Name of the Wind -- Patrick Rothfuss.

This is one of the newer authors in the fantasy tradition and though Rothfuss responds to what have become tired tropes, nevertheless remains true to the fantasy tradition in ways that other authors have not.  The protagonist is an orphan, seems destined by fate to be a hero, and is also tragically flawed.  The prose is delicious -- literary in a way that the rest simply are not.  Though the world feels vast and well imagined, that depth is also an illusion and Rothfuss's writerly chops are strained in the sequel.  Nonetheless, this first book in the series is a delight to read.

3. Golden Compass -- Philip Pullman.

It's difficult to talk about this book without discussing the series as a whole, and for that reason I almost included His Dark Materials as a whole.  But the third book veers in a much more serious direction that is far more intellectual than Compass or the second book The Subtle Knife.  Both are delightful and far more intelligent than you might expect from young adult literature -- but that might be a misunderstanding of young adult literature in general.  Certainly, we should know from Rowling and the Harry Potter series that young adults literature can expand itself the vast realms of more adult fare.  Regardless, The Golden Compass is a warm adventure filled with fantastical elements which belie its young adult protagonist.

2. Eye of the World -- Robert Jordan.

This one was tough.  It vied for top billing and it almost got it, since I happen to be rereading it right now.  As far as journey epics go, this is perhaps the foremost in the field.  Fantasy novels tend to follow the formula that Tolkien laid out: Heroes who go for walks.  But that shouldn't surprise us too much since the first fantasy novel -- The Odyssey -- has journey in its title.  Eye of the World is really about a long walk, but it's done so masterfully that it never becomes onerous the way other walking-epics do (I'm looking at you, George).  And Robert Jordan does something else that none of the other epics can boast: a fully developed cosmology.

While The Mary Sue and other feminist blogs are busy caterwauling about the lack of female perspectives in fantasy, it seems like most authors are responding by checking off a list: feisty female protagonist?  Check.  Does she have a tattoo or wear skimpy clothes so we know she's feisty?  Check.  Jordan integrates strong female characters as part of the world itself.  There's a reason for it that feels natural and integral to the plot.  And while many have (rightfully) pointed out that he writes his female characters perspectives poorly, they cannot discount their flawless integration into the world.

Finally, the sense of history in his books is unparalleled by any other author.  Save your breath fans of Steven Erikson.  He ain't got nothing on Jordan.

1. Assassin's Apprentice -- Robin Hobb.

Ultimately, Assassin's Apprentice got top billing because of its unfailing ability to make me care about every single character.  What's more, the entire series is absolutely, hands-down worth reading.  And so is the sequel series The Tawny Man trilogy.  If it came down to it, a top ten list of my favorite fantasy books would be sixty percent Robin Hobb.  The Farseer trilogy is Shakespearean in scope, and her characters are by far the richest and most real of any series.  Fans of fantasy series like to compare magic systems (think any book by Brandon Sanderson), or worldbuilding (Jordan, Erikson, George R. R. Martin) but when it comes down to it, people respond viscerally to the emotional connections they make with the characters.  Nobody makes those connections better than Hobb.  Beautiful, heart-rending, tragic and heroic.  Go read this book.



So that's my list.  What do you think?  What would you have included, or excluded?  More importantly, what are your favorite books in the fantasy genre and why?  Let me know in the comments below.

Political Animals . . . Or, A House Divided

US Capitol

I've been spending some time recently grappling over the apparently schismatic divide in the Congress.  Bipartisanship seems dead and compromise has become the shibboleth of Tea Party and ultra-conservatives desperate to dismantle the Obama Administration.  It feels like a crisis, and in some ways it is.  But in others, it's just another example of how a party out of power curtails the power of the party currently holding the reigns of state. 

When the Republicans lost the White House and much of Congress in 1933, it inaugurated a 20-year rule by the Democrats which Republicans ardently resisted.  Senators like Robert Taft from Ohio made their bones challenging the New Deal.  In many ways, they were right to do so.  The New Deal introduced a level of government intrusion which was genuinely novel.  It was a break from American politics which still resonates.

FDR

Opposition to FDR dragged Republicans into positions which today seem ridiculous--even stupid.  Watching from our side of the Atlantic, Republicans opposed American involvement in the European war then burgeoning.  Germany had recently grown belligerent, and the rise of fascists states signaled an ideological shift away from the centuries long liberal, humanist project Western Europe had been undertaking.  To many observers, the real danger lay to the West as Japan invaded Manchuria and introduced levels of barbarity unknown to the modern world.  Famously, Taft warned that Germany would never be a threat.  Whether or not FDR understood the true danger of Nazi aggression is still debatable; regardless, he dragged the nation into war with a persistence that would bewilder people like John McCain today.

Senator Ted Harkin

So these sorts of schism aren't particular uncommon.  But when reports emerge from Washington that this level of tension hasn't been seen since the Civil War, it inspires wariness.  Senator Tom Harkin, an Iowa Democrat announced that the dynamic in Congress today is "very dangerous" and reminds him of "the breakup of the Union before the Civil War."

From the National Journal 

On the Senate floor before 10 a.m. Friday, the senator gave a speech describing how American politics have reached the level at which “a small group of willful men and women who have a certain ideology”—read: the tea party and Sen. Ted Cruz, R-Texas—have been able to take over the congressional budget debate in the last week. “Since they can’t get their way,” Harkin said, “they’re going to create this confusion and discourse and hope that the public will be so mixed up in who is to blame for this, that they’ll blame both sides.” [...]

This isn’t the first time the senator has spoken out about the spiraling budget and the fight over Obamacare. Harkin suggested Thursday that Cruz looked “foolish” for his “little tirade” that lasted from Tuesday afternoon until Wednesday morning. Harkin called out Cruz as being part of “the most extreme tea-party wing” of his party, and for his “ideology-driven obstructionism.”

Maybe this is just another bit of hyperbole, but it's struck me in the last few weeks that the dynamic of who votes blue versus who votes red has dramatically shifted in the United States.  And those shifts are largely along geographic lines.  Not so much North/South or even East/West but rather urban/rural.

Population Density

The population shift from farms to cities isn't a new observation.  According to the World Health Organization more people live in cities than on farms, and the trend is likely to continue, with 60% of the world living in cities by 2030.  The numbers in the United States are even higher, with 80% of the population in metropolitan areas.  With most reports on demographic growth in the United States focusing on the low population rate, relative high rate of immigration, and shifts in ethnic composition, they generally fail to analyze the shift in American populations from rural populations to concentrated urban populations.

This has dangerous implications in politics since is presupposes that regardless of where you live, Republicans and Democrats should appeal to the population in roughly equal proportions.  That is, half of a city's population should be democrat, and the other half republican.  The same is true in farm communities and so-called frontier communities in Alaska.  This simply isn't the case.

Voting breakdown by county

The University of Michigan has produced a stunning representation of voting patterns in the United States since the election of 2012.  The maps, the article makes clear, slightly misrepresent the actual dynamic of voting patterns, but the data makes one thing clear: high population density areas tend to vote blue.  I suspect the Republican screed against government interference and personal autonomy appeals to rural voters, who are either ignorant of the interconnectedness of a global economy, or who are able to ignore that interconnectedness by repeating a Golden Myth of personal triumph.

And the divide is likely to increase.  With more people turning to cities, the power of the Democratic Party will grow.  Democratic politics is simply more equipped to respond to urban problems.  Appeals to urban populations will find more and more power concentrated in the Democrats until the GOP itself becomes a shibboleth--obsolete and foundering for voters.  The Tea Party is the first indication that the GOP recognizes its obsolescence.  When any group starts looking backward instead of forward, it will flounder and die.

Young Republicans

The only way to regain Republican strength is to find means of appealing to urban voters who recognize the necessity of some government intrusion in their lives.  Young democrats are educated and innovative.  Young republicans ought to be the same, and find means of addressing the needs of the growing segments of the population occupying an urban landscape.  

The End of the World . . . Or, What Do Cabin in the Woods and The World's End Have To Do With Syria?

Before we begin, if you haven't seen them already, go watch Cabin in the Woods and The World's End.  They're both fantastic movies and deserve to be seen.  Don't worry, I'll wait.

***

Okay.  Now that you're back, and imagining that about half of you reading this still haven't seen these two movies, fair warning: there be spoilers ahead.

On Tuesday September 3, Secretaries Kerry and Hagel, with General Dempsey outlined for the Senate Committee on Foreign Relations the Obama Administration's reasons for specific and limited use of the American Armed Forces in Syria.  As far as I can make out, their reasons are limited to the same hyper-masculine honor-culture bravado we should all remember from high school: If we don't stick up for ourselves, we'll get walked all over.  In effect, by not intervening when we said we would (the whole "red line" over use of chemical weapons) we would appear weak to the leaders of other rogue states, such as North Korea and Iran. 

http://www.polgeonow.com/2013/08/syria-civil-war-map-august-2013-11.html

The trouble is, we've all grown up since then.  Imagine if you confronted the same schoolyard bully as an adult.  They're locked in their six (or sixteen) year old body while you have a decade or more of experience, wisdom, social connections and money to leverage against them.  Responding with the use of force is silly.  But in honor culture, any slight must be met with strict, unmitigated force.  It is the rational of the street thug who, when asked why he behaved as he did, responds with a simple, "because he dissed me."  The excuse is as hollow to our ears as the Administration's justifications to intervene in Syria.

This kind of internationalism is morally bankrupt, and threatens to drain the coffers of the United States and its allies. 

As I listened to the arguments, I was increasingly (and a little uneasily) aware of certain similarities between non-interventionists in Congress and the protagonists of the two movies cited above. 

These two movies, one American, the other British, reveal a distinct rejection of authoritarian intervention.  They highlight a growing concern that our leaders (or traditional authority in general) is unable to adequately speak to our desires.  At their hearts, they reveal a desire for liberty regardless (or in full knowledge of) the consequences. 

But more broadly, they signal a rejection of meddling that has important repercussions on the foreign policy of sovereign nations.  It seems hardly coincidental that last week the British Parliament voted against the Prime Minster's appeal to stand with the United States in opposing Bashar Al-Assad's regime.  The "special relationship" shared by Britain and the United States was fostered in the Second World War and persisted throughout the Cold War, as fears of imperial communism gripped both nations.  But following the Cold War that relationship has been frequently tested, most lately by revelations of pervasive spying by the NSA on British citizens.  But the revelation had been strained since Gulf War numero dos.  These latest allegations of weapons of mass destruction seem to have broken British credulity. 

In fact, we see that growing incredulity mounting in popular films.

In Cabin in the Woods, the familiar horror trope is turned on its head.  After a group of teens arrive at a--you guessed it--cabin in the woods, supernatural forces begin killing them off.  In the end, only two survive and they are confronted with the knowledge that the entire situation was a requisite sacrifice to ensure that a much greater evil was not released.  Their deaths, in a sense, release the pressure on hell and keep Earth safe that much longer.  With this knowledge, our two survivors have the option of sacrificing themselves for the greater good of mankind, or allowing Satan to roam the Earth.  They decide that mankind doesn't deserve to go on.  It's a surprising ending, but not wholly unexpected.  Manipulated by shadowy government agents throughout the movie, their lives and deaths are treated callously and marked by dark humor; the audience is meant to view the agents' behavior as representative of traditional authority in general--callously disregarding the lives they're meant to safeguard.

In The World's End, a group of five friends reassemble thirty years later to finish a pub-crawl they began when they were eighteen.  With the gloss of youth tarnished by failure and loss, they painfully reunite and return to their childhood town but quickly realize that the town has changed.  The changes go beyond cosmetic, and are not limited to McDonaldification, or Starbuckification.  Instead, the people themselves are plain and unassuming, but nevertheless retain an ominous blandness.  They are Stepford Wives writ across the population.  Our heroes discover that the town has been invaded by aliens. 

But the aliens' invasion isn't necessarily malevolent so much as it's paternalistic.  They want to shape human culture to become more genial, so that we can enter galactic civilization which views us as parochial barbarians.  In the end, our heroes' drunken belligerence persuades the aliens that we simply aren't worth it.  The results are . . . Apocalyptic. 

These two movies, the British resolution, and the growing reluctance of American citizens to take government intrusion (from the NSA to the TSA) lying down all signal a sea change in popular political culture.  Secretary Kerry called this "armchair isolationism" that would embolden terrorist groups.  Americans rightly dismiss his belligerence as exaggerated and unnecessary.  Moreover, it condescends to thoughtful analysis and retards debate.  Instead, this is a moment to reflect on the force America wishes to be in the 21st century. 

The Magic of Science . . . Or, Elysium Review

I saw Elysium last week.  It's taken me a while to comment on Neil Blomkamp's newest sci-fi effort for the simple reason that almost as soon as I left the theater I'd forgotten the movie.  Built around the story of Max (played by Matt Damon), it's a purposeless effort that degenerates into rambling, plotless meandering about halfway through.  Basically, after an industrial accident leaves Max with only five days to live, he sets off on a journey that will take him to Elysium, which possesses technology which can cure him. 

Visually it's a standout, if your baseline for special effects is sometime around 2001.  Everything is as gritty and solid as what you'd expect from Black Hawk Down.  I suppose that's impressive, because in this case nothing is actually real.  Green screen and computer effects abound, and are never intrusive.  This is a good thing.  The world definitely feels real, but there's no real awe in the movie.

And as far as science fiction is concerned, I'm not entirely convinced that this is movie belongs in that genre.  Though it takes place in the future, has some pretty cool tech, there's not a lot of science involved.

Let me explain.  The technology is good, and has a solid, believable feel.  But the science is entirely absent.  The physics of the Elysium hub are wonky, at best, and the medical technology is simply magic.  Apparently in this future, disease is completely eradicated and all it takes to cure even advanced cancer is to wave some sort of "healing light" over the patient's body.

This makes the movie less science fiction and more fantasy. 

It's an ongoing problem as Americans' knowledge of science becomes increasingly divorced from their technological prowess.  A two year-old can manipulate an iPad and operate the Blu-Ray player better than many adults.  Cell phones deliver constant streams of information without the operator needing to know how.  Indeed, the complex ballet of satellites, cell towers, internet trunks, operating systems, computer coding, software, hardware, etc., are totally opaque to most operators.  This makes them inexplicable.

As I've often said, we live in a magical age.  The dictum that sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic applies.  The ineffable cause which lies behind the effect of your iPhone making calls and surfing the web means that you experience a sense of powerlessness.  You no longer control your own world, even as you manipulate it.

And we fear what we don't understand.

It's not surprising that conservative Republicans in the United States are pushing back against educational reforms that might actually work.  Comprised largely of the undereducated, they sense their powerlessness and inaccurately attribute it to government interference and shadowy liberal conspiracies.  Certainly, government intrusion is on the rise, and I'm certain PRISM and the NSA are getting a kick out of my ongoing ramblings.  But the real solution isn't withdrawal but increased participation in government and education.

What Elysium suggests is that the merger between corporations and governments (the two are largely indistinguishable in the movie) create uncrossable gaps between rich and power.  That gap is regularly bridged in the movie, however, so I'm not sure just what the moral of the story is supposed to be.  Even more worrying, the director fails to explain how the very limited resources of Elysium can be leveraged to cure the entire planet of its (incomprehensibly many) woes.  Every other person seems to have cerebral palsy, polio, or some other malady and the level of welfare would certainly have exhausted resources a long time ago.  (Which is probably why a very few fled Earth.  It wasn't selfishness but enlightened self-preservation.)

So as far as political statements go, it's milquetoast, and draping a science-fiction action adventure with that pale velvet means the whole movie suffers.  While it didn't suck, and I didn't feel cheated of the price of admission, it was nevertheless kind of blah.  

Wait till it comes out on Netflix.

(But, if you're in the mood for compelling science fiction that happens to also star Sharlto Copley in a supporting role, go see Europa Report.)

(And for a fun read on the actual science behind this movie, take a look at the Stanford torus.)

Lucy In The Sky With F-14s . . . Or, Top Gun Reboot

Recently, I got to thinking about what would make an interesting film.  Ideally, it would be engaging, decently plotted, fast paced and fun. 

Let me back up a bit.  Me and my buddy were hanging out and I said something like, "Even though I thought it was a terrible movie, I really want to see Pacific Rim."  Something about the swaggering ridiculousness of that movie appealed to me. 

But then he commented that all the bad parts would still be bad, but wouldn't be moderated by being unexpected.  I'd know when to cringe and when to sigh.  All I really wanted was to have fun.

So I said something like, "You know what would be fun?" 

That's the idea I want to talk about for a second.

What if we remade Top Gun?  Yep, bring back Maverick and Goose and Iceman and Joker and all the rest.  Exact same story, exact same script.  Update it just a bit by putting them in F-22s and make the MiGs Chinese planes. 

Except instead of this . . .

The only difference is that Maverick is a woman.

Think about it for a second.  Charlie is still a woman.  Goose is still a dude.  The love story remains unchanged except that in the new world where "Don't ask, don't tell" has been repealed, this kind of story makes sense.  (I'd even keep the music.)  But instead of a testosterone fueled romp, it takes on a whole new meaning and there's no inherent reason to even change the dialogue.  (Except for a few pronouns here and there.)

We get this.

It's still a great movie.  It is still full of great action, cheesy dialogue, intense rivalry and random volleyball game in the middle of the movie.  And lest you concern yourself that much of the narrative occurs in the men's locker room--easy fix!  Instead they banter in the gym (or if you want to go CRAAAZY just make it coed). 

So here's your homework for the weekend.  What's your favorite action movie and how does it change (or better yet, how does it remain the same) if you make your protagonist a woman?

Dust In Your Eye . . . Or, A Few Thoughts On Dust 514

Dust 514 is the Playstation  3 side of Eve Online's massive cross-platform push.  Eve Online is the wonderfully addictive space opera that you play from your PC.  As someone who has never played Eve, though, I can't say much about it other than it looks fantastic.  Giant space battles, an in-game economy that makes money in the real world, and a rabid fan-base that makes player interaction not just encouraged but necessary. 

Dust 514 is the planet side version of Eve, and allows players to engage in massive land battles for control of planets.  Built around the Unreal game engine, it boasts neither impressive graphics or novel game play.  But it's free.  It's cross-platform feature means that players on Eve can interact with players on the ground, offering support and in-game currency.  And by capturing planets, (someday) players can benefit their Even compatriots. 

I've grown fond of this game as time wears on.  Like Eve, Dust has a ridiculously steep learning curve and the near necessity of alliances with other players means that just jumping in a running around blasting isn't a viable strategy.  But the ability to customize your character is truly astounding.  Between the four races, there are at least eight variation on dropsuits (each of which has its own pros and cons) and every weapon has three variations.  Between suits, weapons, shield and armor enhancements, and role specialization the customization seems infinite.

Which is what give Dust it's true playability in my opinion.  Anyone can make a free-to-play game that let's players get their jollies off.  The customization in Dust is astounding, and allows you to approach the game differently every time.  And it doesn't hurt that Dust is a part of the massive and deeply immersive Eve universe.  You can go as deep as you want, and the rabbit hole never seems to end. 

At the moment, however, Dust is a Playstation 3 exclusive and I'm unaware if it will be available for the PS4 (though I can't imagine it won't be).  Only recently taken out of beta, CCP is still tinkering.  Renowned for their attention to detail, and their willingness to listen to player input, means that the game will only improve with time. 

If you like first-person shooters, or MMOs, or both, I think you'll enjoy this game.  Give it a shot.

Undaunted Fraud . . . Or, What Is History? Pt 3

Stephen E. Ambrose

This isn't news.  When Stephen Ambrose was accused of citing numerous works nearly verbatim without proper attribution, it was in the middle of the another plagiarism scandal involving Doris Kearns Goodwin.  You might know her from Team of Rivals, the book which laid the foundation for Stephen Spielberg's Lincoln. 

Back in 2002, ferreting out plagiarism in popular history seemed all the rage as journalists and amateur historians began noticing errors and discrepancies in Stephen Ambrose's The Wild Blue.  According to Fred Barnes over at The Weekly Standard, Ambrose lifted substantial sections from Thomas Childers's book Wings of Morning: The Story of the Last American Bomber Shot Down over Germany in World War II.  Childers, a University of Pennsylvania history professor, was attributed in footnotes, but his words remained largely unchanged in Ambrose's book.

At the same time that this was brewing, The Daily Standard turned its attention to Doris Goodwin and noted that much of her work on The Fitzgeralds and the Kennedys pulled material from Lynne McTaggart's book, Kathleen Kennedy: Her Life and Times.  As with Ambrose, Goodwin was charged with lifting whole sentences and failing to attribute them properly.  In essence, she claimed another's work as her own.

A bookshop.  Cuz, you know, that's where real history happens.

In work that relies to a considerable extent on the work of others, plagiarism is always a looming danger.  Most academics rely on the research of others; indeed, modern research is more like adding a single pebble to an edifice than in laying foundations or erecting the framework.  We rely on the work of others to reinforce our work, or to support our conclusions.  The interpretation is often unique, and the work is genuine, but it relies on the work of others.  Clearly delineating what is your own from the another's work is necessary to build credibility and reproducibility. 

Because historians rely so heavily on sources, it's often difficult to reproduce certain conclusions.  The necessary documents are sometimes hidden in archives.  Those archives are more often than not on the other side of the country and can be accessed only with difficulty and expense.  So we trust that others have done a good job; that trust is built on an unshakable foundation of historical ethics.  And plagiarism undermines that foundation. 

To her credit, when Goodwin was called on her plagiarism, she responded by acknowledging her error and strove to correct it.  Though many charge that her correctives were insufficient, she nonetheless seemed to respond in a more forthright manner than Ambrose. 

Doris Kearns Goodwin

But his errors were more grievous.  He'd long been in arrears with veterans groups for his sometimes unflattering portrayal of soldiers in the second world war.  Their charges are serious, but far from condemnatory, since historians often make unflattering claims against revered figures and individual experience may differ from the broad summary which historians try to make.  More serious are accusations that Ambrose distorted the historical record or inflated his sources. 

In 2001, after the publication of his book Nothing Like It in the World: The Men Who Built the Transcontinental Railroad, 1863–1869 describing the building of the Pacific Railroad, a group of railroad historians compiled a paper detailing the numerous factual errors it contained.  Writing for the Journal of American History, reviewer Walter Nugent was driven to exasperation by the frequent factual errors.

What initially brought this whole controversy to my attention, however, was the revelation by Tim Rives, Deputy Director of the Eisenhower Presidential Center that Ambrose grossly distorted his relationship with the former President.  As Ambrose told it, Eisenhower approached him to write his biography after the former President read Ambrose's biography of Henry Halleck.  No such thing happened.  In fact it was the other way around, and Rives had the letter to show that Ambrose approached Eisenhower. 

Henry Halleck

When Ambrose's two volume biography was finally published, he cited the hundreds of hours of interviews he had had with the President as the source of many of his conclusions.  Once again, Eisenhower's exhaustive schedule told another story.  It showed Ambrose speaking with Eisenhower three times for a grand total of less than half a dozen hours.  Furthermore, Rives goes on to assert that interview times that Ambros claims in his book Supreme Commander just don't jive with Eisenhower's personal schedule. 

Basically, he made it up. 

This is ridiculously frustrating for a profession that already deals with the lay perception that "you just make stuff up."  The rigors of historical research and writing require that historians adhere to a level of ethical conduct just as strenuous as physical researchers.