Posts Tagged ‘Lavie Tidhar’

Steampunk is a curious and often inconsistent thing, particularly when it’s the steampunk of Lavie Tidhar. I worked my way with interest through the oddity that was The Bookman. I read its sequel Camera Obscura with great excitement. And so at last I came to the final volume, The Great Game, eager to find out whether it would live up to its title.

First Class Characters

The Great Game is a story of spycraft and intrigue set in Tidhar’s Bookman world, a 19th century alternate history with lizard monarchs, alien devices and literary characters roaming the streets. That name – the Bookman – draws attention to the sort of characters we’re dealing with here – literary borrowings such as Mycroft Holmes and Victor Frankenstein, as well as archetypes such as The Bookman‘s Orphan and this volume’s retired secret agent Smith.

Despite their well worn familiarity, those characters are one of the absolute highlights of this book. In particular, the reluctantly re-activated Smith and current agent Lucy are vivid, well depicted characters who I found good company and excellent drivers for their strands of the story. They’re clever and determined, pressing on through the confusion and overwhelming odds of their circumstances. Though Camera Obscura‘s Milady remains my favourite protagonist from this series, these are good, and certainly better than Orphan, who as Dial H for Houston pointed out, suffered from passivity and dullness.

A Very Tidhar Plot

Smith and Lucy’s paths, and those of the other characters, take them through a journey that’s one part John le Carré tension, one part Bond-style action, and one part batshit crazy. That weird and wonderful world is a big part of the appeal of this series, and it plays off here in spectacular style. The spies are doubly spy-like, the crazy ten times what it was, creating a sense that both the characters and the story could be overwhelmed at any moment.

Therein lies both the beauty and the problem of this book. I know others have found this plot chaotic, though I thought it cleverly intertwined rather than rambling like the first book. But it definitely lacks coherence in places, most critically the ending. Without giving the great game away, I felt that the ending lacked the sort of closure a thousand page series left me wanting, while not giving me enough to instead ponder the possibilities of what would come next.

Good But Disappointing

Look at the book’s cover, the version I’ve used in this post. Isn’t it bold? Isn’t it dynamic? Doesn’t it fill you with a desire for retro, pulpy, genre-mashing action? That’s what I wanted, even expected at first, from these books, and it’s an expectation they didn’t deliver on. They’re fascinating but flawed, far stronger in their ideas than their narrative cohesion, the bit players often more intriguing than the protagonists.

I’m glad I read this series, and that I saw it through to the end. These are good books. I’d even go so far as to call Camera Obscura great. But they don’t deliver on what they seem to promise, and that, for me, was their downfall.

For me as a writer, it’s also a very important lesson. Make sure your book does what it promises to, or you’ll have some disappointed readers.

Steampunk cyborgs. Secret governments. Deadly ninjas. And to top it all off, a more compelling plot. I really enjoyed returning to the world of The Bookman.

A Warped Thriller

Camera Obscura, the sequel to Lavie Tidhar’s The Bookman, picks up nowhere near where that first story left off. It’s several years later, in another country, with an almost entirely different group of characters. But that’s no bad thing.

This time the steampunk escapades start in Paris, where Milady De Winter, deadly agent of the Quiet Council, is hunting down a mysterious murderer. This hunt takes her into an underworld of espionage in which agents from all over the globe are trying to get hold of a mysterious object of great power. It’s a mission that leads Milady to dark places, takes her through terrible ordeals, and helps to present more of the fascinating world set up in The Bookman.

More Plotting, Less Showing Off

I loved how rich and varied the world of The Bookman was, but I struggled at times with the way it was written. The plot was a little unfocused, and some of the prose read like it was there to show off references to fiction and history, rather than to further the story. There’s far less of that here. The plot feels tense, and there’s nothing that reads like it’s just there to show off. Sure, there are a lot of literary references, but they fit more naturally and don’t disrupt the flow. A preposterous level of effort has been put into connecting it with a wider literary tradition, but much effort has also gone into making a strong plot and a great central character.

Speaking of which, this is not the Milady De Winter you may remember from Musketeer books and movies. She’s a woman of African origin who has been a victim of colonialism and an exhibit in a travelling circus. She’s more sympathetic than the original Milady, and a refreshingly unusual lead character who naturally draws attention to 19th century prejudices and oppressions.

In many ways, I wish this had been the first book in the trilogy. Though some of the events only make sense in light of The Bookman, it would have been a stronger and more accessible start.

Fake Past, Real Present

As well as a cracking adventure, Camera Obscura is a thought provoking exploration of issues facing us as humans today, many of which were starting to become visible in the Victorian era. We see the first tentative steps towards globalisation in the Worlds Fair and globe-spanning intrigues. The rise of technology is absolutely central to the plot and to Milday’s life. The blurred boundaries of what it means to be human are raised by the presence of automatons, sentient lizards and steampunk cyborgs.

It has been argued that the information age started not with the internet but with the telegraph. Holding that idea in mind opens up a lot more in the world of this book. For all that it’s set in a fantastical version of the past, Camera Obscura is also about what it means to be modern.

And Relax

Given my mixed feelings on The Bookman I went into Camera Obscura tentatively, not holding up the highest of hopes. I was misguided. Either I’ve gotten more into Tidhar’s style, or he’s shifted into something that suits me better. Either way, this is a really good read.

If you read The Bookman and stopped after that, I really recommend giving this a go. And honestly, I recommend reading The Bookman more confidently now I know what follows. This is a rich and fascinating series, and worth the effort it sometimes requires.

Exposition is one of the most important skills in a writer’s arsenal. Whether you do it subtly through implication or by stating things plainly in long passages, how you tell readers about your world maters. This is especially true in science fiction and fantasy, where those readers need to understand how your world is different from our own.

A C Macklin, aka Everwalker, has already written an excellent post on the fundamentals of exposition, so I won’t repeat what you can read elsewhere. But I want to talk about exposition as a matter of skill, and as a matter of taste.

Implication, Explanation and External Reference

Three of my more recent reads have shown very different approaches to exposition. In Cold Magic, Kate Elliott uses large paragraphs of narrative and dialogue to explain the workings of her world. Mary Robinette Kowal, in Shades of Milk and Honey, subtly lays out the world through implications and small references. In Lavie Tidhar’s The Bookman, the reader is presented with a huge mass of detail and left to disentangle it, with references to history and other books helping to give these elements meaning.

I enjoyed all these books, but Mary Robinette Kowal’s approach to exposition was the one I enjoyed the most. It’s tempting for me to say, based on that, that’s she’s better at exposition than the other two. But on reflection, I don’t think that’s the case.

I think it’s a matter of the writer’s style and the reader’s taste.

The Reader and the Book

I’m not going to argue that all books are equal. Even within different styles, some authors are far better than others, and Elliott, Kowal and Tidhar are all excellent at what they do. But the enjoyment of a book doesn’t just lie in the skill of the writer – it lies in a relationship with the reader, and in what they want.

I like my exposition subtle. I’ve been trained that way through years of genre reading, among other influences. Some others like to have things clearly laid out for them – it’s more accessible. For me, a big chunk of explanation disrupts reading. For others, a small reference that isn’t explained straight away, and that for me builds the world, will throw them out of the story because it doesn’t make sense.

I can also be put off by books trying too hard to prove that they’re smart. I love to see a few references to other texts or events – an appearance by a disguised Sherlock Holmes, a real political upheaval. But when the book is reliant on those references for its meaning, when they come thick and fast as in The Bookman or Umberto Eco’s The Prague Cemetery, it gets in the way of my reading. The thick mass of references others like to untangle leaves me wishing that the story had more to stand on in its own right. I feel like the writer’s showing off rather than entertaining me, but that’s probably not a fair assessment – they’re entertaining people with those dense layers of reference, those people just aren’t me.

Picking Your Style

So what, I hear you cry?

So then, as readers, we should be cautious about saying that a piece of exposition is bad, and instead ask whether it does what it aims for well, and whether that’s to our tastes. And as writers, we need to think about what style of exposition will suit our books, our readers and ourselves.

Because, like so much in life, this isn’t about good or bad, right or wrong. It’s about the rich variety of human tastes, and that’s awesome.

The Bookman is the first book I’ve read by Lavie Tidhar, who’s developing quite a name for  smart and varied genre fiction. An idea-packed and often exciting steampunk novel, I enjoyed it both in its own right and because of how it got me reflecting on the nature of the genre.

Steampunk Spectacle

The Bookman is the story of Orphan, a young man living in a version of 19th century London where the British Empire is ruled by lizards, the streets are full of literary and historical figures, and there are conspiracies lurking in every shadow. As the book unfolds, Orphan is drawn deeper and deeper into a tangle of plots and schemes, which lead to revelations about the world he lives in, and about himself.

As I discussed in a previous post, this book is densely packed with ideas and imagery, so much so that it can feel like it’s trying too hard to be smart, especially in the early chapters. But this density of ideas is one of its great joys – it makes for a fascinating and varied setting.

Once the story gets past its first act it’s also pretty exciting. A departure from London leads to exotic locations and action adventure elements that I really hadn’t expected. It becomes an exciting book that’s also smart, not just a smart book being smart. And that makes it a whole lot more fun to read.

Reflecting on the Genre

At the end, I found myself wondering about the elements that had been thrown together in this story. Mrs Beaton, Karl Marx, Sherlock Holmes and an automaton of Lord Byron all exist together in Orphan’s world. There are lizards, robots, giant mushrooms, pirates, the list goes on. Jules Verne shares a journey with one of his own characters. In a very real way, it makes no sense.

But isn’t that part of the joy of steampunk as a genre? When we read fantasy we’re often imagining other worlds that could exist out there, unrelated to our own. When we read science fiction we’re imagining possible futures. But with steampunk we take elements of history, old literature and modern imagination and cram them together in a way that we know makes no sense. We can’t believe even for a moment that Marx and Holmes ate at the same restaurant, because we know that one of them is real and the other isn’t.

Steampunk isn’t about what could be. It’s a never-land whose success depends not on the plausibility of concepts, but on successful execution. And Tidhar has executed a smart book that’s often exciting and always intriguing. If you can get through those dense early chapters you’ll be well rewarded by what follows.

Just don’t worry too much about what sort of sense it makes.

What books are you excited about at the moment? Here’s my current reading heap, or at least the tip of it.

Second Chance by Dylan Hearn

A science fiction story that combines politics, technology and crime in an intriguing near future tangle. Being a fan of abeyance, I like the way that the world is slowly built up through dialogue, thoughts and actions, revealing how Hearn’s imagined future is different from now. It’s definitely a novel that’s focused on plot and pace rather than intricate prose – for example, there’s almost no physical description of the characters, letting you fill in the blanks as you see fit. I’m maybe a fifth of the way through, and really looking forward to seeing where this goes.

Write Your Novel From the Middle by James Scott Bell

Several writing buddies have recommended this to me as a top book on plotting. I haven’t started reading it yet, but I’m looking forward to seeing what all the fuss is about.

Plus my legs are really tired from working at my new standing desk, and reading this is a productive writing thing I can do while sitting down.

Seriously, my right calf is killing me. Who’d have thought standing still would be so much exercise?

The Bookman Histories by Lavie Tidhar

I’m still slowly working my way through this, and it’s still worth the effort. Somewhere around page 180 of the first book things have taken an unexpected turn, feeling much more pulp action oriented than what came before. The references to history and other works are also becoming less obstructive and more part of the natural flow of the story.

I stand by my initial assessment that this is an incredibly rich read full of fantastic ideas. Now it’s one that’s found some pace as well.

Over to you

What are you folks reading at the moment? Anything you’d care to recommend? And if you’ve read any of these books what did you think? Share your literary appreciation by leaving a comment.

Last May, everwalker, aka fellow writer and blogger AC Macklin, lent me her copy of Lavie Tidhar’s Bookman Histories. Since then, both our lives have taken some big twists and turns, and that feels like the appropriate context for reading this book. Because this week I finally started reading Bookman, and blimey, this one is a wild, weird ride.

A Huge Serving of Ideas

I’m only a hundred pages into Tidhar’s collected Bookman novels, so I can’t evaluate these stories as a whole. But there’s enough going on that it made me want to talk about it, and that’s usually a good sign.

The Bookman setting is a strange melange of steampunk, literary playfulness and a dash of fantasy. Set in a Victorian England ruled by lizards, in which the elite are driven through the streets in steam cars and Professor Moriarty is Prime Minister, from the outset it’s overflowing with ideas. There are secret societies, strange conspiracies, whales singing in the Thames. An ancient hero of Asian mythology is living as a tramp under a bridge – or possibly he’s just a really well read tramp. Political philosopher Karl Marx plots with household management legend Mrs Beaton while they watch lizards fight in the back room of a seedy pub.

For the sheer mass of concepts and juxtaposition alone, this book is worth reading.

Doubling Up On the Difficulty

That said, this is far from an easy read. The prose flows nicely, but it’s so densely packed with concepts that you have to work to untangle what’s going on. In fact, there’s two layers to that work, and so two ways in which the book could deter a casual reader.

Firstly, this is clearly written by and for the genre savvy. As I’ve discussed before, world building that seems subtle and sophisticated to a science fiction and fantasy fan can be bewildering to a casual reader. At the extreme, a novel like The Bookman takes effort to untangle for even the most dedicated steampunk fan, with its density of concepts and the implications hidden behind each offbeat revelation. It’s effort I consider worthwhile, but it means that it’s not casual reading to relax to late at night. You earn the rewards.

Secondly, there are a lot of literary references . The whole setting is built around them, and together with the use of books as bombs, they make clear that this is a story about stories, not just about its own contents. That’s no bad thing – art can achieve a lot by turning and reflecting on itself. It creates a tone that’s very similar to Alan Moore and Kevin O’Neill’s League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, a fabulous mixture of familiar characters and hidden depths that makes a fantastically rich setting.

But just like the League, it also has its problems. You don’t need to get the literary references to follow the story. But their frequency means that, if you don’t get them, the story seems to be taking irrelevant detours, the narrative stalling in its flow to add little meaningless details. Later volumes of the League have been more about this than about character or story, putting me off a comic series whose early volumes I love. Similarly, Bookman is at risk of losing my attention if it becomes too mired in its clever games.

Are You the Audience?

I’m writing this now, rather than waiting to finish this book, because I think it’s worth taking the time to think about how books and audiences match up. Lavie Tidhar’s Bookman Histories has a perfect audience that is both genre savvy and well read in Victorian and classical literature. A wider audience of science fiction, fantasy and steampunk fans will enjoy it if they enjoy books that reward reflection and analysis with a deeper understanding. But I’d be surprised if casual readers, or those looking for an adventure in a world far from our own, would get much out of this.

Me, I’m really glad I’m reading it. I think it’s going to take a while to get through, but it’s worth it for the concepts even though I don’t get all the references. Whether it’s worth your time really depends upon what sort of reader you are. And that might be how any review of a book should end.