We had to play the game a little while longer, then Yoobie would release us. By that time, I felt, Barbara would be more receptive to my ideas. I figured that this experience was just what she needed to broaden her understanding and give her a taste of what it was like to be the helpless subject of a brutal, insensitive authority. Maybe she wouldn't be so quick in the future to do the same to other people.
I had no plans to keep my feelings hidden once Barbara was safely out of rehab. And if I could convince Barbara to join the Opposition, all the better. Not the old Opposition—the new Opposition. We wouldn't be able to change all at once, but the time had arrived for us to take the first steps in getting our connections out in the open. A few well-placed advanced AIs could do wonders in publicizing our dissatisfaction with the current regime and promoting a public discussion of alternatives to the bloated, draconian system that had been weighing all of us down for far too long.
Copyright © 2010 Kyle Kirkland
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Reader's Department: THE REFERENCE LIBRARY by Don Sakers
Series. Love them or hate them, there's no denying that series are everywhere in science fiction. Sequels, trilogies, longer series both finite and open-ended have been with us since the time of Jules Verne at least (although Homer was known to dabble—The Odyssey is a sequel to The Iliad, after all—and Dante's Divine Comedy is arguably the first science fiction trilogy on record.)
In one sense, it's not unusual that science fiction should so frequently spill beyond the covers of a single volume. An important part of any well-wrought SF tale is a consistent, detailed background compellingly different from readers’ present-day world. Even a long novel is hardly roomy enough to explore an entire world, much less a planetary system or galactic empire. Even when the story is over and the characters have all met their deserved ends, readers may want to see more of the universe—and the writer may not have explored all the nooks and crannies. (Besides, developing a good universe is hard work . . . who can blame a writer who wants to conserve time and brainpower by reusing a good background?)
This is why some critics have suggested that the natural form for book-length science fiction is the trilogy, as opposed to the single novel. (In the short fiction realm, you'll see similar arguments that the novelette or novella is the natural length for SF.)
Science fiction is not the only genre where series proliferate, by the way. Our sister field, fantasy, has long had a much higher series count. In mystery fiction, Arthur Conan Doyle showed the way and Dame Agatha Christie blazed a trail that has since become a twelve-lane superhighway. Ever since the MacDonald/McBain Act of 1964, it has been illegal for any author to write a mystery novel that is not part of a series. (Okay, I made that up . . . but it sure seems like the truth, doesn't it?) Westerns, romances, Christian fiction, and military fiction of the Tom Clancy/W.E.B. Griffin stripe are all dominated by series books. Series are still fairly rare but increasing in the thriller, historical fiction, and horror genres. Even literary fiction authors occasionally yield to the series urge.
From a publisher's standpoint, series are particularly desirable. Publishing is a business, and business thrives on consistency and predictable sales. The sequel to a popular book, or the second or third volume of a trilogy, represent a much surer sale than an original title. A well-selling ongoing series is money in the bank for publisher and author alike.
Here's the rub. In science fiction and fantasy, “series” isn't the simple matter it is in other genres. In mundane fiction, a series almost always involves continuing characters: a specific detective or cowboy, or (in romances) a particular family. In SF and fantasy, the word “series” has as many meanings as “snow” does to the proverbial Eskimo.
Some critics have made stabs at creating terms for various kinds of series, differentiating (for example) “serials” from “milieus” and “narrative arcs” from “sagas.” And there's always the fallback “in the same universe.” However, there is no generally accepted terminology, and I'm certainly not going to foist such a baroque system on long-suffering Analog readers. But what do we mean when we say that books are “in a series"?
The simplest form of series is a continuing narrative that's published in more than one volume. The book may be too big (like Lord of the Rings) or it may take a while to write, or there may be other legitimate reasons the publisher issues separate chunks over time (Robert Sawyer's Neanderthal Parallax series is a good recent example). The key here is that the whole narrative is planned as a unit, regardless of how many physical volumes wind up in the bookstore. There is continuity of characters and storyline across the series.
Another simple form of series is the humble sequel or succession of sequels. Here, the first book usually stands alone, but is successful enough that the author decides (for whatever reasons, generally including money) to revisit the characters, story, or background. Edgar Rice Burroughs was a master of successive sequels. Fred Pohl wrote The Merchant's War as a sequel to The Space Merchants, Hal Clement gave us Star Light and Through the Eye of a Needle as sequels to Mission of Gravity and Needle. After many years Arthur Clarke wrote several sequels to 2001: A Space Odyssey, and Isaac Asimov was persuaded to continue both the Foundation and Positronic Robot series. And I will go to my grave believing that when he made Star Wars, George Lucas was not planning to make any more movies in that universe.
A series of sequels often has some continuity of characters or storyline, but the most defining attribute is continuity of background.
Things get a little more complex when books in a series break out of chronological order. Easiest is a single prequel: a story set earlier in time than the main series, but having some strong relationship to the first book(s). Think of Episodes I—III of Star Wars, or Asimov's Prelude to Foundation and Forward the Foundation, or Lois McMaster Bujold's Vorkosigan series. Here there may still be some overlap in characters and storyline, but the continuity of background is much more important.
It gets more complicated when an author remains in the same universe but bids farewell to the characters and storyline of the first books. Anne McCaffrey's Moreta and Nerilka's Story take place centuries before the preceding Pern books, and have little direct relationship to those titles—and Dragonsdawn goes back two millennia to the initial colonization of the planet. Later books have featured different eras of Pernese history.
In these cases, continuity of background is everything. In fact, one of the joys of reading this sort of book is discovering the roots (or later fates) of elements and people from the first books.
One fairly rare permutation is the shared-background series of seemingly unconnected books that form a larger pattern greater than the sum of its parts, like a mosaic. Gordon Dickson's Childe Cycle is an example, as is my own Scattered Worlds series.
A special case of sequels is the “rewrite.” Here, an author is dissatisfied with a book and writes a new title as a revision. The most famous case in science fiction is Arthur Clarke's 1948 novella Against the Sea of Stars, which he rewrote as The City and the Stars (1956). In 1979, Gregory Benford rewrote Deeper Than the Darkness (1970) as The Stars in Shroud. (To complicate matters, Benford also wrote Beyond the Fall of Night, a sequel to Clarke's later-rewritten Against the Fall of Night.)
Most abstract of all, a series can be a set of books that share a continuity of theme or idea. Asimov revisited Fantastic Voyage (1966) in 1987 and produced Fantastic Voyage II: Destination Brain, which was a completely different story, with different characters, and set in a different universe, but based on the same notion. Still later, Kevin J. Anderson wrote Fantastic Voyage: Microcosm (2001), which was still another take on the idea of shrinking a submarine of scientists to explore a body.
And now we've come full circle back to Jules Verne, for both Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea (1870) and its direct sequel, The Mysterious Island (1874), were published as part of a thematic series of novels and nonfiction books called “The Extraordinary Voyages.” Other ti
tles in the series included Journey to the Center of the Earth (1864), From the Earth to the Moon (1865), its own sequel Around the Moon (1870), and Around the World in Eighty Days (1873).
As I've mentioned in earlier columns, there seems to be a new vogue for authors combining previously-distinct series into multiversal meta-series which can grow to encompass every book the author has ever written (as well as, in some cases, series by other authors as well).
A particularly successful and beloved series becomes that holy grail of publishers and marketers alike, The Franchise. Modern franchises include Frank Herbert's Dune, Anne McCaffrey's Dragonriders of Pern, Marion Zimmer Bradley's Darkover, and just about every movie or TV series that produces spin-off novels. A franchise may even continue after the original author's death, with new authors commissioned to write further books.
As with all categorical schemes, these groups are inexact and often overlap. Real-life series are messy things, part one thing and part another.
Take one of the most successful series in science fiction, first published in Analog's predecessor, Astounding Stories: Doc Smith's Lensman series. The four middle books—Galactic Patrol (1938), Gray Lensman (1940), Second Stage Lensman (1942), and Children of the Lens (1948)—form a continuing narrative, and Smith considered them one long story in four volumes. The first book (chronologically), Triplanetary, appeared in Amazing Stories in 1934, but in 1948 Smith rewrote it (under the same title) to better fit the series. Book number two, First Lensman, was published in 1950 to bridge 1 and 3. Sometimes listed as book number seven is Masters of the Vortex (1968), a slight rewrite of two 1942 stories set in the same universe, but otherwise unconnected to the series.
Now it gets complex. The Lensman series achieved franchise status. William B. Ellern wrote an authorized continuation of the series, New Lensman (1975)—a portion of which appeared in the April 1966 Analog as “Moon Prospector.” And in the early 1980s, Smith's friend David Kyle published three authorized Lensman novels that fit chronologically between books five and six.
It doesn't stop there. Asimov's now-combined Foundation and Positronic Robot series have histories just as convoluted, Heinlein's shared-background Future History series expanded to become the all-encompassing World as Myth meta-series, and don't even get me started on Michael Moorcock's Eternal Champion multiverse, which reduces even hardened bibliographers to tears. James Patterson fans think they have it bad trying to figure out which book is part of which series: they should try our side of the fence sometime.
Where there are series, there are numbers—for every reader wants to know the proper order of the books in a series. A simple narrative or open-ended series is easy: start at the beginning and work forward. When books jump around in time, it's more difficult: should one read the books in chronological order, in order of publication, or in some other arrangement? The answer, of course, depends on the series. Sometimes the author has a preference; sometimes fan sites can give hints. In the want of any further information, I usually recommend reading series books in order of publication.
This month, I have a few notable series books for you.
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Catching Fire
Suzanne Collins
Scholastic, 391 pages, $17.99 (hardcover)
ISBN: 978-0-439-02349-8
Series: Hunger Games 2
Genres: Post-Apocalyptic, Teen SF
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Last year, The Hunger Games took both the SF and teen fiction worlds by storm. Catching Fire continues the story of Katniss Everdeen, a poor teenage girl from impoverished District 12 who was taken to the Capital to fight for her life in the Hunger Games. Katniss triumphed over her opponents and struck a very public blow of defiance against the tyranny of the Capital.
Now Katniss is back home, but things are not well. The leaders of the Capital know that she is becoming a symbol of defiance in all the Districts—and they inform Katniss that she must use her status as champion to renounce her defiance and help quell rebellion. Her family and friends are hostage to her obedience.
On a victory tour of the Districts, Katniss tries to do as she is told . . . but as she learns more of the Capital's cruel oppression, there also comes the dawning realization that she has become an inspiration to rebels everywhere.
Then the unthinkable happens: the Capital decrees that Katniss and her fellow champion Peeta must compete once again in a bigger, more deadly round of Hunger Games.
But Katniss has secret friends in the most unusual places, and just like the ever-more-restive populace, she too is catching fire. . . .
Catching Fire is a page-turner, and it's also brimming with questions of honor, freedom, and personal responsibility. Like the best teen books, this one is equally enjoyable to adults of all ages. If you haven't read book 1, The Hunger Games, you'll want to start there, as there's definitely background information and character development that you'll need for Catching Fire. Fortunately, that just means double the pleasure.
* * * *
WWW: Watch
Robert J. Sawyer
Ace, 250 pages, $24.95 (hardcover)
ISBN: 0-978-044101818-5
Genres: Man & Machine, Psychological/Sociological SF, Religious/Philosophical SF
Series: WWW Trilogy 2
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Watch picks up where the previous book, WWW: Wake left off. Wake told the story of Caitlin Decter, a blind teenage math wizard with a cybernetic implant that gave her both ordinary eyesight and the ability to see the structure of the Internet. Caitlin became midwife to an emergent artificial intelligence born of the Web, an AI that calls itself “Webmind."
In Watch, Caitlin and her extraordinary friends and family assist Webmind's further development as it learns first to read, then to see, and finally to discover emotions—and ethics. Then government authorities discover Webmind, and determine that it is a threat that must be eliminated.
Along the way, Sawyer leads the reader through questions of the nature of consciousness, identity, privacy, morality, and empathy across the gulfs that separate intelligent beings from one another. The book is an easy read, chock-full of ideas that will stay with you long after you finish the last page. This is science fiction at its best.
* * * *
And Another Thing . . .
Eoin Colfer
Hyperion, 273 pages, $25.99 (hardcover)
ISBN: 978-1-4013-2358-5
Genre: Humorous SF
Series: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy 6
Writers are mortal, but franchises can live forever. When the author of a bestselling series goes to the great keyboard in the sky, heirs are left with the chore of searching for a successor. Sometimes a family member can step in, with or without a collaborator: Frank Herbert's son Brian and co-writer Kevin J. Anderson have successfully picked up the Dune series, and Anne McCaffrey is leaving the Dragonriders of Pern in the capable hands of her son Todd. But when no capable family member exists, the search must go further afield.
To take up the reins of Douglas Adams’ Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series, his heirs chose Eoin Colfer, author of the bestselling Artemis Fowl teen fantasy series. Colfer's first book for adults is And Another Thing . . . , which is billed as “part six of three” of the Hitchhiker's Guide series.
Everyone is surely familiar with the Hitchhiker's Guide series, the premier example of humorous SF. Douglas Adams is a hard act to follow, but Colfer does an acceptable job. All the old familiar characters are here: whining Earthman Arthur Dent, galactic hitchhiker Ford Prefect, the slimy bureaucratic Vogons, and everybody's favorite two-headed President, Zaphod Beeblebrox.
After a slightly bumpy settling-in period, Colfer does a good job of capturing the spirit of zany absurdity that characterized the Hitchhiker's Guide books. There's easily enough plot to sustain the madness, and enough stream-of-consciousness comic digressions to satisfy the discriminating fan.
My husband, who is an enormous HHGTTG fanatic—with an encyclopedic knowledge
of the corpus that astonished Adams himself—pronounced himself satisfied with And Another Thing . . . . Ordinary casual readers, like me, will have no cause for disappointment. It's a fun romp indeed.
Copyright © 2010 Don Sakers
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Don Sakers is the author of A Rose From Old Terra and Dance for the Ivory Madonna. For more information, visit www.scatteredworlds.com.
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Reader's Department: BRASS TACKS
Dear Dr. Schmidt,
I am very much enjoying the “Marrion's Kids” series of stories that are currently being published in Analog.
Certainly there should be no doubt that stories concerning genetically enhanced human beings are science fiction.
If certain aspects of “Amabit Sapiens” seem horrific, they reflect some real aspects of the world in which we live.
You are to be commended for having the insight and—yes—courage to select and publish this story when you knew it would create some negative responses.
It was on of my selections in this year's AnLab voting
Looking forward to another year of Analog and hopefully more stories in this series
Rebekah M. Brown
Salem, MA
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Dr. Schmidt,
I am a retired, full-time RVer, originally from New Hampshire. I've been reading Analog and its fore-bearers since the ‘50s and I think the January/February 2010 80th Anniversary issue was the best I've ever read. Every story was superb and “Thus Spake the Aliens” brought back memories of space operas of bygone years. Kudos to you, sir, for editing such a wonderful magazine.
Albert Rioux
Madison, SD
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Dear Mr. Kooistra,
Your January/February 2010 Alternate View article, “Aliens Among Us,” really hit home for me. Growing up with an older brother whom everyone considered “strange” was very frustrating for my entire family, more so because doctors and experts insisted there was nothing actually wrong with him. While routinely scoring high marks on achievement tests, he continued to fail high school classes until the school system kicked him out, declaring that he didn't qualify for help through Special Education classes.
Analog SFF, June 2010 Page 22
