The Word for World is Forest by Ursula K Le Guin

I've been meaning to dip into more classic sci-fi for a while so I'm glad my physical book club chose this slender novel by Ursula K Le Guin for us to read. It won the Hugo Award in 1973 and was nominated for several other book prizes. The story is set on the fictional planet Athshe where an outpost of people from Earth are rigorously clearcutting the planet's vast forests. Wood has become a valuable resource since Earth (referred to as “Terra”) is now hopelessly polluted. This is devastating for Athshe's native population, a series of peaceful tribes of Athsheans who are small hairy green beings – given the derogatory nickname “creechies” by humans. The forest is not only their habitat but it's intrinsically linked to their culture. However, the majority of humans not only ignore how its loss impacts the native population but they enslave the Athsheans and treat them cruelly – sometimes raping and murdering them. When a creechie called Selver suffers a horrific loss he resolves to stand up to the colonial intruders and launches a war for the planet. It's an imaginative tale which vividly invokes a range of perspectives to relate dramatic events.

I appreciated how the novel begins with the point of view of Captain Davidson, a human commander of one of the logging camps. He's in many ways a repulsive and hyper masculine figure but it's valuable getting his initial skewed perspective on the creechies as sub-human. Since this native race is completely invented I initially bought this point of view even though Davidson is clearly prejudiced. It felt like an inventive way for Le Guin to encourage the reader to never make assumptions – especially when it comes to encountering living beings we are ignorant about. I also feel like the author had a lot of fun creating the voice of such an awfully aggressive and misogynistic character. When the narrative switches to Selver's perspective we see how Davidson is horribly misguided in his attitude and judgement of the Athsheans. They actually have a very strong sense of community and unique way of inhabiting consciousness. The line between waking/sleeping and reality/dreams aren't as clearcut for the creechies as they are for humans. This was a unique way of thinking about other ways of perceiving the world as well as creating different forms of community.

While I enjoyed the sense of adventure the story invokes and obviously felt sympathetic to its message, I'm not surprised this novel has been criticised for being a polemic. The message about the inevitably destructive effects of colonialism is extremely clearcut. However, it feels like Le Guin is making an important point. There can be no denying how destructive such colonial enterprises are to native populations and the environment. The story has clear parallels with the Vietnam war which was reaching its devastating conclusion in the time around when Le Guin wrote this novella. So it's impactful how the story is imbued with so much emotion. Nevertheless, I felt like it was somewhat simplistic in the way it depicts the harmonious nature of the Athsheans and the permanent ill-effects to their culture once the concept of war is introduced to them. I appreciated how a human scholar named Lyubov becomes an important bridge between the two races and adds more complexity to this tale which has clear lines between good and evil. So overall I felt this was an entertaining novella with some inspired world building but it could have been more thought provoking and complex. I've been told some of Le Guin's other books have more layers to them so I'm eager to explore more of her work.

In Ascension by Martin MacInnes

There have been very few reading experiences I've had where I finished a book and immediately turned back to the first page to read it all again. But this novel has such compelling subject matter and central characters that I wanted to experience the story a second time to see how it all fit together. There's still a lot about it which feels mysterious and which I'm thinking about, but it's left a lasting impression and really compelled me to re-view the world around me. Not to get too grandiose about it, but I feel like we naturally get so caught in focusing on our immediate environment and our daily lives that we can easily forget how enormous the universe is around us and how infinitesimally small life can be. It's usually only when we suddenly see the starry night sky when it's not obscured by light pollution or notice tiny creatures thriving in a rock pool that we remember the relative scale of the world around us. For me this happened late one evening while driving with the top down in Death Valley and I saw the glowing immensity of the stars in the sky. Reading “In Ascension” gave me a similar sense of awe. It pulled me out of myself to think about the depths of time and space. It shows how an individual is relatively small amidst this vastness, but also that everyone is an integral part of it.

This novel could definitely be called science fiction, but I think of it more as an environmental novel and a psychological investigation into the meaning of life. The story centres around Leigh, a scientist who studies the marine world and cultivates a strain of algae as a sustainable food source. When technological advances mean that deep space travel is possible her discovery is used for an important application. However, this is more than a professional interest for Leigh because she's always felt a deep connection with the scope of life on Earth. She survived an extremely difficult childhood. During this time she wasn't necessarily drawn to suicide, but took respite in the knowledge that her own existence was the result of chance and there's a powerful section when her life hangs in the balance. This is one of those instances in my reading where the scene and all the emotion wrapped up in it are etched in my memory. It's such a moving moment where her own life feels intensely precarious and she realises how dynamically alive the world is around her. This also inspires a sense of wonder which leads her to exploring the furthest depths of the ocean and the farthest reaches of outer space. I've always been entranced by documentaries about these remote regions of our world and the universe so I found this to be utterly compelling. It's an imaginative journey of discovery that's about the origins of life and the reason for our existence. It's also about the fragility of our environment. It's about the price paid when the progress of our civilization is driven by capitalist enterprises.

Even though this book is about such big issues and questions, it's also such a personal story. Leigh is a complex character who is intensely dedicated to her work and is really driven by curiosity. It's so interesting following her transformation and what she finds venturing so deeply into the unknown. She's in many ways quite straightforward in her desires, but she also bears an immense hurt which distances her from others. She's very solitary and prone to isolation. This creates tension between her and her family especially as her ageing mother is in need. But she also feels a strong connection to all life. In some ways she's utterly anonymous while also possibly possessing immense importance. I won't give any spoilers but the novel takes a surprising turn later on when the narrative shifts to another character and suddenly we're given an entirely new perspective on both Leigh and events surrounding her. I began to question how reliable Leigh really is as a narrator and how much I could trust the reality of what is being shown. This is partly what inspired me to go right back to the beginning of this novel. The story has a circular quality as well which comes to feel so profound and made me want to float around in it for longer. That's what reading this novel is like. It's like being suspended in this character's consciousness as the immensity of life and time and the world unfurls.

So this book made a big impression on me. Martin MacInnes is such a fascinating writer in how he pursues ambiguities surrounding life's big mysteries, but in a way which is continuously compelling and unpretentious. His debut novel “Infinite Ground” similarly delved into questions to do with the nature of being and our connection to one another. I feel like “In Ascension” explores these questions in a much grander way with not only excellent detail (this novel clearly required a great deal of technical research) but it also shows a wider scope of imagination. It provides answers and a definite conclusion, but also instills a sense of wonder which has left me so much to ponder. It's a book that I know will be well worth reading again and again. I'm sometimes asked what makes me permanently keep a book on my shelves and this is a great example of a novel I know I'll really enjoy returning to. It makes me want to buy a cabin in some remote location where I can clearly see the stars at night and spend all day reading this and my other favourite books over and over.

How High We Go In The Dark by Sequoia Nagamatsu

It's impossible to know how we'll react to losing a loved one until it happens. Similarly, it's difficult to predict how an ongoing pandemic and environmental crisis will shape our society's future. But these are issues which Sequoia Nagamatsu movingly examines on many different individual human levels within his imaginative and absorbing debut “How High We Go In The Dark”. The novel opens with the discovery of the preserved remains of a prehistoric girl who is found amidst the melting permafrost in the Arctic Circle and, with her, a deadly virus is reintroduced into human civilization. By following the many lives of a number of linked individuals across hundreds of years we see the way our society splits apart, comes back together and grieves for what is lost. 

In some ways, this book functions like a group of interconnected short stories. The different chapters focus on subjects as varied as a theme park for terminally ill children, a pig grown for organ transplants that develops an ability to talk, a mechanic that no longer has the parts to repair families' beloved mechanical dogs, a scientific breakthrough that's implanted in one man's mind and an artist who paints murals in the corridors of a spaceship that seeks a new planet for humans. Yet the ending of the book circles back to the beginning in an innovative and surprising way. With its emphasis on themes of technology, space travel and a dystopian future this novel might appear like standard science fiction from the outside, but the story's real world resonance and psychologically complex characters feels more resonant of inventive hybrid novels such as “Bewilderment” by Richard Powers, “Station Eleven” by Emily St John Mandel and “XX” by Rian Hughes.

This is a narrative driven by deeply human stories centred around love, the painful experience of letting go, the ways we memorialise each other and our ability to persist through challenging circumstances. Certainly there are some characters which I connected with than others, but I enjoyed the way some more peripheral characters come to the forefront in different sections while also letting us know about the fates of other characters we know well. This not only gradually gives the reader a deeper understanding of certain people but shows how these individuals exist in a rich network of various different experiences. It's alternately horrifying and inspiring following how Nagamatsu imagines the evolution of humanity amidst dramatic global changes. But, just as one character chooses to name her own constellations in the sky, this story ultimately demonstrates how we can each form our own destinies. 

The Employees by Olga Ravn (translated by Martin Aitken)

The recent pandemic has caused many people to be furloughed or forced them to change their careers. So it feels especially poignant now to contemplate the degree to which our work defines us and expresses who we are as individuals. “The Employees” by Olga Ravn is a very thoughtful and artfully-written science fiction novel that speaks a lot about this subject through a future-set fantastical point of view. I'm hesitant to filter everything I've been reading lately through the events of the past year, but how we read is often reflective of our states of mind and so I'll naturally have a slanted experience of what I'm reading in response to how the pandemic has consumed my recent life and effected the entire world. This book's relatively new publisher Lolli Editions has also been intimately concerned with the effects of the pandemic as one of their first publications was the anthology “Tools for Extinction” which gathered writers' responses to the pandemic from around the world. Of course, Olga Ravn couldn't have anticipated this reading of her novel because the book was first published in Danish in 2018. Nevertheless, I found a lot of relevancy in how the human and (robotic) humanoid employees of the Six-Thousand Ship discuss their approach to labour in relation to their essential purpose for being. This short novel is composed of over a hundred brief statements given by the ship's crew in relation to some evocative and mysterious objects gathered from a distant planet as well as their perspective about a growing crisis aboard the ship. 

Given the limited resources of a spaceship every human must fulfil an essential purpose. Equally, the humanoids were literally created to perform a necessary function. Yet their interactions with the extraterrestrial (living?) objects provoke them to question many things about their existence including whether their work defines them and what it means to be human. In some of the statements we're told whether the speaker is human or humanoid. In others the speaker seems to have forgotten or become confused about whether they are organic or manufactured. Some feel a more secure sense of self knowing they provide a useful contribution. Others feel enslaved by the tedious obligations they must perform. It's so evocative and playful how their interactions with the curious objects which emit different scents or light provoke the employees to contemplate their positions more deeply. They inspire memories or sensuous feelings which had previously been dormant. It has a liberating effect for many including one humanoid who declares “I may have been made, but now I'm making myself.” These are issues reminiscent of Philip K. Dick's classic novel “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep” but Olga Ravn approaches these subjects from a highly original perspective.

As the testimonies progress we become more aware of the bureaucratic force behind these interviews and the mystery surrounding a certain cadet being removed. We also get a sense of an individual named Dr Lund who invented the humanoids. These larger plot points form an overarching narrative behind the individual points of view with their subjective concerns. Naturally, this style of storytelling gives a limited perspective as we only get very small pieces of the story from different human and humanoids. I longed to know more about some of their lives such as a human that forms a strong bond with a humanoid who eventually disengages from further personal contact. Nevertheless, I enjoyed their contrasting voices and felt together this complex network of employees make interesting psychological, sociological and philosophical points. This is a very thoughtful novel but one which also delivers doses of immediate pleasure with it's imaginative take on space exploration.

XX by Rian Hughes

Recently I've found myself getting into reading science fiction. I've not previously been drawn to the genre – I don't have much interest in extraterrestrial life or fantasies about elaborate future civilizations. But I do have an affinity for the science of outer space, the complex nature of consciousness and the beauty of graphic design. Rian Hughes' majestic and innovative novel “XX” delivers all this and more while telling a story that consistently gripped and delighted me for all its 977 pages. The premise is fairly simple. An unnatural signal from outer space is detected and a small London tech company speculates that perhaps it's not a message from aliens but a code which actually contains the aliens themselves. From this spins a thrilling tale where not only life on Earth is in jeopardy but every living thing in the galaxy. 

But this novel is many many other things as well. It contains a science fiction story within a science fiction story – a wonderful ode to the kind of serialized sci-fi tale that might be found in a 50s pulp magazine which also connects with the larger novel. It's about the blurred line between artificial intelligence and human intelligence. It's a meditation on consciousness which pushed me to reconsider how we define memory and our perception of reality. It presents a convincing fictional theory about the formation and structure of the universe. It offers a new way of conceptualizing ideas about creation and fate in regards to religion. It's a history of technology's evolution. Woven into its story are an array of graphics and a variety of fonts (many designed by the author himself) which add meaning to the text in their very design. And it's also a philosophical meditation on the meaning and endpoint of human civilization itself. So there's a lot going on, but the novel is so well plotted and has a cracking sense of humour that it can successfully juggle all this at once.

At the centre of the book is Jack Fenwick, a tech wiz who is capable of seeing distinct patterns in seemingly random bundles of information. This comes in very handy when trying to translate what non-earthly beings might be trying to communicate. He's also somewhere on the spectrum as socializing is incredibly difficult for him. But I was relieved that this crucial character has little of the repellent macho swagger typically found in geek sci-fi heroes such as Mark Watney from “The Martian” or Paul Atreides from “Dune”. Jack is certainly bolshy and confident, but the novel acknowledges how the constrictions of his personality cause real emotional conflict within himself and for those he encounters. There's an equally compelling accompaniment of characters that surround him who excel at their speciality but also struggle fitting into larger society.

What most impressed me about this novel was that for all its complexity, tricksy stylistic quirks and thoughtful conundrums it is an absolute pleasure to read. I chuckled appreciatively as I had to turn the book on its side or upside down to follow the path of its text during a certain section where characters traverse the boundaries of three-dimensional reality. It inspires wonder as I was thoroughly drawn into the many exciting twists of its story which sparked my imagination. But Hughes is also very sophisticated in how he draws upon traditions in science fiction literature while utilizing recent developments in astrophysics and computer technology. It ultimately made me mull over the progressions and limitations of our society while thoroughly entertaining me along the way. Earlier this year I saw Rian Hughes speaking about “XX” at a publisher's event and from his elaborate description I thought this book would be either a work of genius or a messy failure. I'm pleased to say that I found it to be a triumphant work of literary fiction like none I've read before.

The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet by Becky Chambers

Science fiction is a genre I very rarely read. That’s not to say I’m averse to reading it; I just feel like I’m unqualified to be writing about it as I have so few reference points to draw upon when discussing it. But this means that I’m especially delighted that the Baileys Prize longlist has brought Becky Chambers’ “The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet” to my attention because it was such a thoroughly engrossing, skilfully-written and enjoyable read. The novel primarily follows a journey of the spaceship The Wayfarer as it travels across the galaxy to create a new “tunnel” connecting a reclusive embattled civilization with an allied group of human and alien species. Rosemary is a human with a mysterious past who joins the closely connected crew. There are thrilling adventures, lucky escapes, tragic losses and hilarious escapades. But what really brings this novel alive are its vibrant characters who form complex relationships that speak meaningfully about building cross-cultural exchanges.

The crew encounter several kinds of aliens on their journey and Chambers carefully describes how they differ from humans and the other species that are part of the ship’s crew. Some of these aliens are friendly and others are adversarial. However, the contrasts between their culture and human culture made me think more complexly about the way we interact with each other both in interpersonal relationships and broader attitudes towards other races/cultures. The author is careful not to idealize any specific alien culture over others, but shows how each has its own specific qualities, problems and contradictions. There are inherited prejudices that everyone carries, but which individuals work to specifically overcome. It’s especially moving how the guilt of former generations plays out across two species who might hate each other. The character of a species called Grum that has been rendered almost extinct states how “We cannot blame ourselves for the wars our parents start. Sometimes the very best thing we can do is walk away.” This is a powerful statement about our ability to separate ourselves from the shameful actions of our forefathers to act independently in thought and action. The way in which the story of large scale conflicts between alien races plays out has a lot of parallels with how we relate to each other across national, religious, sexual and racial boundaries.

One thing I found particularly impressive about this novel is the way different relationships are handled. Several characters engage in romantic relationships with alien species – one human character even has a long term affair with a sentient AI system. Don’t worry, there are no cringe-worthy descriptions of human-alien sex scenes. Rather, the development of the relationships come across as wholly believable and emotionally poignant. Each couple face their own challenges in overcoming prejudice, practical challenges or dealing with culturally confusing differences. Although the way we humans relate to each other socially and sexually may feel “natural”, when viewed from an alien perspective it can seem quite bizarre. The author has a pleasurable way of poking fun at this at some points such as when one character named Sissix who comes from an Aandrisk race that resembles large lizards states about humans: “This was a people that had coupled themselves stupid.” There is also something quite radical in how a character named Kizzy makes occasional references about her two dads. The reason or story behind her same-sex parents is never explained (nor does it need to be), but is presented as something perfectly natural and is fully integrated into the story rather than being treated as an “issue”. This all speaks meaningfully about the way love ought to be respected over our fixed social and political ideas about how relationships should be.

Becky Chambers includes a touching message at the end of this novel encouraging people who have artistic urges not to become discouraged in trying to realize their vision. This is a debut novel whose creation was supported by a Kickstarter campaign and it was originally self published. It wouldn’t have come to prominence without the support of encouraging readers who felt moved by the story and message that Chambers makes. It’s a heart-warming testament to how communities of readers can make a difference. “The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet” is a dazzling read and it definitely makes me want to look out for more sci-fi reads in the future.