Book review: The Knife of Never Letting Go

Another from my Mount TBR challenge! I got The Knife of Never Letting Go in the Kindle sale last Christmas. It’s the first book in the Chaos Walking trilogy. Synopsis:

Todd Hewitt is the only boy in a town of men. Ever since the settlers were infected with the Noise germ, Todd can hear everything the men think, and they hear everything he thinks. Todd is just a month away from becoming a man, but in the midst of the cacophony, he knows that the town is hiding something from him — something so awful Todd is forced to flee with only his dog, whose simple, loyal voice he hears too. With hostile men from the town in pursuit, the two stumble upon a strange and eerily silent creature: a girl. Who is she? Why wasn’t she killed by the germ like all the females on New World? Propelled by Todd’s gritty narration, readers are in for a white-knuckle journey in which a boy on the cusp of manhood must unlearn everything he knows in order to figure out who he truly is.

I really cannot recommend this book highly enough. I’m almost reluctant to write this review as I don’t want to give too much of the plot away: it’s so carefully constructed, with so many shocking moments that you really need to experience as Todd does to feel the full force of it.

Todd is a fantastic character. I really didn’t like him at the start of the book, he comes across as angry and aggressive, but through the course of the book he really develops as a character. It’s one of those wonderful character arcs that feels so natural you don’t really notice it happening – only by stopping and comparing the Todd at the end fo the book with the Todd at the start did it really hit me what a different character he’d become.

I also absolutely loved Todd’s dog, Manchee, despite starting the book rolling my eyes at the thought of a talking dog as one of the main characters! Manchee won me over pretty quickly though, partly because his dialogue is so, well, dog-like. His Noise does sound exactly the way you’d imagine a dog would sound if you could hear their thoughts. His personality was wonderfully apt too: a bit dim, cheerful, easily distracted but loyal and tenacious when needed – that should all sound fairly familiar to any dog owners!

Writing about the talking dog like that might make this sound like a bit of a silly read. It isn’t. It’s dark, and scary in the way that the best YA books can be, and frequently, shockingly violent. It also ends on a proper cliffhanger – I’m determined to complete my Mount TBR challenge before the end of the year, so I can’t read the next two yet, but I certainly will do as soon as my self-imposed book-buying ban is over!

Without saying too much more about the plot, all I can say is: read this. Read it if you want a tightly-plotted, fast-paced thriller (I read it in a day because I couldn’t put it down!) that also has intelligent things to say about conformity and masculinity, loyalty and betrayal.

Book review: In Other Worlds: SF and the Human Imagination, Margaret Atwood

In Other Worlds is a collection of Margaret Atwood’s writings on and around the subject of science fiction, focusing particularly on dystopias. As I am a huge fan of both sci fi and Margaret Atwood, I couldn’t resist this book!

Atwood has of course written a few dystopian sci fi novels herself – The Handmaid’s Tale, Oryx and Crake and The Year of the Flood, although she prefers the term “speculative fiction” to describe these. Her apparent rejection of the sci fi label has caused a bit of controversy in the past, as it was construed as literary snobbishness, and she addresses this in the introduction to In Other Worlds. Her explanation of the disparate forms of fiction that are grouped together under the umbrella term of science fiction, and her preference for using more specific terms to describe sub-genres, such as speculative fiction, dispelled (for me, at least) any suggestion that she has any disdain for sci fi as a genre.

What comes across most clearly in this book is her genuine love for the genre, in all its forms. In the first section, Atwood outlines her early experiences with sci fi and fantasy – covering everything from superhero comics and the lurid tales of bug-eyed monsters in sci fi magazines, to the tales of HG Wells and Ray Bradbury, to classics like Pilgrim’s Process and Beowulf. She describes herself as an indiscriminate reader, devouring in her early years everything she could get her hands on, with a healthy disregard for the adult distinctions of high- middle- and low-brow. Her breadth of knowledge is evident: she discusses Batman in the same breath as Shakespeare, and treats all of her subjects with the same level of respect due to any good story.

She goes on to discuss her experiences at university, studying literature with a focus on utopian and dystopian writing. This section is fascinating: Atwood discusses the motivations and psychology behind these types of writing, highlighting some more and less familiar examples of each – it gave me some inspiration for suggestions for Leeds Book Club‘s new dystopia book club! If you’re a fan of Margaret Atwood’s books, this section by itself is worth the price of the book for the insight it gives to the influences and inspiration for her novels.

The middle part of the book is a series of previously published essays on individual sci fi titles, including 1984, Brave New World, Never Let Me Go, The Island of Doctor Moreau, Gulliver’s Travels – some written as reviews, some as introductions to the books, etc. I found these essays equally illuminating for the books I’d actually read as for those I hadn’t – and the latter lead to quite a few additions to my to-read list! My only small criticism of the book come from this section – as these are all previously published, there is some repetition of ideas and themes, including some that had already been discussed in greater detail in the first section. This is to be expected really, but it did mean that it started to feel a bit familiar by the time I got to the end of this section.

The final section contains a series of Atwood’s own examples of sci fi writing – short stories, and extracts from some of her non-sci fi books (e.g. one of the stories told by the male protagonist in The Blind Assassin, “The Peach Women of A’Aa”, is included). Coming at the end of the book, these are fascinating to read as examples of how Atwood has used her extensive knowledge of sci fi to inform her own writing.

In Other Worlds is a thoughtful, intelligent exploration of the science fiction genre, from a writer who has extensive knowledge and a genuine love of her topic. Highly recommended for either fans of Margaret Atwood, science fiction, or both.

Verdict: 4.5/5

Book review: The Dispossessed, Ursula Le Guin

The Dispossessed book coverI picked this up as part of the haul I grabbed from my local library on National Libraries Day. I was looking for some good sci-fi, and had heard lots of good things about The Dispossessed, so decided to give it a try. I’d only read one of Ursula Le Guin’s books before (Fisherman of the Inland Sea), but had been meaning to read more – she’s often listed as one of the greats of modern sci-fi, and The Dispossessed is part of the SF Masterworks series, so I figured I couldn’t go far wrong here!

The Dispossessed follows the story of Shevek, a scientist from the anarchist world of Anarres. Frustrated by jealous colleagues and stifled progress on his home world, he travels to Anarres’ sister planet Urras – the capitalist world that the rebellious settlers of Anarres fled 150 years previously. He is the first person to travel from Anarres to Urras for all this time, and is considered a traitor by most of his people for doing so. He travels not only to spread his ideas – his Principle of Simultaneity, which will make possible instantaneous communication throughout the universe – but also to break down the barriers between the people of the two worlds. However, while he first finds freedom on Urras, he quickly discovers that he is being used as a pawn in a political game outside of his comprehension.

This is without a doubt some of the best sci-fi I’ve read in a long time. I was completely gripped from the first page. Le Guin does a masterful job of introducing the societies and political systems of the two worlds gradually, without resorting to heavy-handed exposition. When it comes to sci-fi I’m always more interested in the people and society presented than the technology – I don’t really like tech-heavy sci-fi, as I feel it often overshadows the story.The Dispossessed is a shining example of sci-fi at its best: using an alien society with advanced technology as both a vehicle to explore political and social ideas, and as an absorbing fictional world in its own right.

As a feminist, I also loved the exploration of the two worlds’ attitudes to women. On anarchist Anarres, men and women are treated equally – indeed, Shevek is baffled to find that this isn’t the case on Urras:

“Where are other women?”

“Oh, no difficulty at all there, sir,” Pae said promptly. “Just tell us your preferences, and nothing could be simpler to provide.”

…Shevek had no idea what they were talking about. He scratched his head. “Are all scientists here men then?”

Scientists?” Oiie asked, incredulous.

Pae coughed. “Scientists. Oh, yes, certainly, they’re all men. There are some female teachers in the girls’ schools, of course. But they never get past Certificate level… Cant do the maths; no head for abstract thought; don’t belong. You know how it is, what women call thinking is done with the uterus! Of course, there’s always a few exceptions, God-awful brainy women with vaginal atrophy.”

…Shevek saw that he had touched an impersonal animosity in these men which went very deep… They knew no relation but possession. They were possessed.

The exploration of the social ideals of the two societies, as seen through Shevek’s eyes, was fascinating. The story alternated chapters between Shevek’s history on Anarres leading up to the time of his journey, and his time on Urras. Shevek is equal parts disillusioned with his own society and proud of it; disgusted with the excesses on Urras and jealous of their intellectual freedom. What I liked about the book is that although Anarres, as Shevek’s home world, gets the more sympathetic treatment (and one suspects this is where Le Guin’s sympathies lie), neither world was presented as perfect. For all of Anarres’ idealism and equality, there is an undercurrent of repression and censorship running through it. One passage, in which a friend of Shevek’s tells him of a mutual friend who has effectively been imprisoned for criticising the Anarresti society – something which should be logically impossible in a society which has no laws and no system of prisons or punishment – was a striking way to illustrate how the human tendency to seek and consolidate power can even corrupt a society as high-minded as Anarres:

“Tirin wrote a play and put it on… It was funny-crazy-you know his kind of thing…It could seem anti-Odonian, if you were stupid. A lot of people are stupid. There was a fuss. He got reprimanded. Public reprimand. I never saw one before. Everyone comes to your syndicate meeting and tells you off. It used to be how they cut a bossy gang-foreman or manager down to size. Now they only use it to tell an individual to stop thinking for himself… He wrote me several times, and each time he’d been reposted. Always to physical labour, in little outpost communities… He stopped writing. I traced him through the Abbenay Labour Files, finally. They sent me his card, and the last entry was just ‘Therapy. Segvina Island.’ Therapy! Did Tirin murder somebody? Did he rape somebody? What do you do to get sent to the Asylum for, beside that?”

“You don’t get sent to the Asylum at all. You request posting to it.”

“Don’t feed me that crap,” Bedap said with sudden rage. “He never asked to be sent there! They drove him crazy and then sent him there.”

Equally, although Urras is initially presented as a paradise of free thought, it isn’t long before Shevek sees the inevitable consequences of a property-owning society – despite his hosts’ best efforts to keep him from seeing the poverty outside of their sheltered societies:

Maedda nodded. “A demonstration’s been announced for three days from now. Against the draft, war taxes, the rise in food prices. There’s four hundred unemployed in Nio Esseia, and they jack up taxes and prices… Do you know what your society has meant, here, to us, these last hundred and fifty years? Do you know that when people here want to wish each other luck they say, ‘May you get reborn on Anarres!’ – To know that it exists – to know that there is a society without government, without police, without economic exploitation, that they can never say again that it’s just a mirage, an idealist’s dream!”

This is one of those rare books that’s kept me thinking, long after I’ve finished reading it. In fact, having got this book out of the library, I am actually going to buy a copy – I can see it’s one I will want to re-read later on. I will also be avidly reading more of Ursula Le Guin’s work!

Verdict: 5/5

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