Alan Dean Foster

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT

Look, this book is for the most part a par-for-the-course, satisfactory sci-fi. Normally I'd give something like this three or even four stars.

If not for the drop-dead-gorgeous sex-kitten secret agent whose name is even literally "Kitten" . At first she just seemed mildly off-putting and even seemed to have the germ of a fun character somewhere when you looked past the absurd level of sexualisation piled upon her by the author.

But then came the super-gross scene show more where she publicly trades sex with the teenage Flinx for her freedom. I actually had to put the book down and pace the room for a while. This is where the book goes from being a product of its times to just being completely appalling.

But I soldiered on, and things seemed rather better until the conclusion, which involved an actual non-consensual spanking scene. Alas, I was in the break room at work so was unable to repeat the whole throw-and-pace reaction for fear of alarming my colleagues.

I'm at a loss as to what happened here, as the previous books I'd read in this series didn't include anything near this egregious. Where I'd previously been enjoying the creative world-building I'm now feeling soured on the whole series. I'm just kind of sad. show less

As the conclusion to the enjoyable "The Damned" series, I expected a bit more - action. Not that there wasn’t action, but like the previous two, Foster’s characters spend time thinking and speculating about the world and their place in it.
The war that is the central conflict in the series ends with a fizzle. But with the end brings to the surface the unspoken fear of the members of the Weave – what to do with the violent Humans. The book spans almost 2 earth decades, following the show more main characters as they work, often behind the scenes, to solve the problem. Through dogged determination, intelligence, self-sacrifice, and yes, some violence, they reach a bittersweet end. Not clean ending to the issues raised, simply a messy patchwork solution, tinged with hope. While this left me sad, it made the story better. It felt real.
Foster has an interesting viewpoint on his own race – the idea that humans are inherently prone to violence and left without an outside enemy, we will turn on ourselves. But his stories also tell us he believes that there will always be human who will rise above that, and work to temper that issue in our species. It’s an interesting concept.
Overall, this is an enjoyable series. Worth reading, particularly if you like a little philosophy in your science fiction. show less

Spoilers, obviously.

This is apparently part of a... not exactly a series, but a set of linked books. I haven't read any others, but I don't think it's affected my enjoyment of the book.

Generally speaking, I enjoyed this book. I read it pretty much in a single sitting over an afternoon, which says a lot. ADF did a good job of worldbuilding; the planet is novel and interesting, and though it's probably scientifically impossible, I didn't have any trouble suspending my disbelief. He sketches show more out the culture fairly quickly, giving enough information to read the story smoothly, but leaving things vague. This vagueness avoids leaving much open to scepticism, and given how little the humans know about the world in question, is also entirely appropriate. I quite liked the alien races as well, though the Na were a bit cardboard for my taste.

This book has some really nice ideas and concepts in it. The monetary basis of the Mai culture was quite fun, and I loved the vertical division of cultures and the Topapasirut. He also defied my expectations by turning round the Tsla when they seemed bound for tired old stereotype territory. Slightly on the other hand, all of the alien characters confirm rigidly to their cultural norms. Now ADF doesn't go very deeply into their cultures, and the humans don't have enough knowledge to pick out subtle differences, so I can't hold it too strongly against him, but really the supporting cast don't get much in the way of characterisation.

Just in passing, I liked that the humans are not automatically white Anglo-Saxon types, which is casually mentioned at the start without making it too pointed; calling them Lyra and Etienne seems slightly odd if ADF was going for something different, but it's fine.

I also enjoyed the way the journey let the relationship between Lyra and Etienne develop. I thought it did a decent job of portraying a couple whose relationship is strained after years of field research and planet-hopping, and the ways that might manifest. Both the manifestations and the characters were a little gender-stereotyped: a logical male geologist who gets frustrated, is foolishly jealous, comes up with plans and does the last-minute rescuing; an empathic female anthropologist who is passive-aggressive, is unreasonable in arguments, and loses her objectivity to fall in love with the native culture. It is from the 1980s, so it's not all that surprising, and Lyra does get her turn at problem-solving too. ADF does a reasonable job of convincing me they're genuinely fond of each other, though, and I was interested in how things would turn out at the end; their journey up the river is both an exploration of the planet and a chance to explore the status of their relationship, and I expected a decent emotional payoff.

And that - the end - is really where things fell down for me. Perhaps I was naive, but I'd been reading this book as something genuinely different, a sci-fi novel about exploration and relationships, with something in common with Gerald Durrell or Attenborough novels about real-life travels and the incidents and friendships that they bring. Although the prelude to the novel is a Mai-based vignette about a mythical El Dorado-type treasure trove they expect the humans to find for them, it's largely ignored for the rest of the book; in fact, the ambush section doesn't make much sense in the light of the prelude, as it would completely frustrate the Mai's own plans. So what I vaguely expected was for the human voyage to bring them to the City of the Dead as the novel proclaims, which... well, they sort of do, but it's a bit odd, as the City doesn't seem to actually be a city or anything like one. Then the interesting story about exploration and relationships goes away and something entirely less interesting takes its place. The remaining aliens are killed off, which is basically unnecessary; as they were largely indistinguishable except by species, the deaths doesn't get much of a reaction, so it mostly comes across as a way to create some cheap tension and isolate the humans for the Message. The betrayal did get to me, but mostly because I was disappointed Homat was pushed into a cheap dramatic ending so easily. Now in some ways, it was more appropriate for him to stick with authentic Mai behaviour than to be a token Friendly Native, so I do appreciate that. However, there was no indication anywhere that it would happen, and it doesn't entirely make sense if he's supposed to be clever. You can argue that the riches on offer sent him a bit mad, I suppose, but taking unnecessary risks is highlighted early on as being quite un-Mai.

Mostly, though, it was the revelation that annoyed me. Suddenly, the book I was enjoying turned into another book. Yulour is revealed to be not a Tsla, but another type of alien entirely, which is known only by rumour across the galaxy and is the mystic caretaker race of a previous galaxy-spanning higher civilisation that has mysteriously vanished! Now, let me be clear. I'm not especially interested in that story, which has been done plenty of times, but that's not what bothered me. What bothered me was ADF dropping that on me in the last chapter of a book without a single suggestion that such aliens existed; that such a prior civilisation existed; or that this was going to be a book about revealing mystic truths to worthy humans in a secret cave. Right until this point, I had been lulled into believing that this was a fascinating and original travelogue, gently exploring ADF's world and the heads of the human protagonists. Suddenly, the ending I had expected - no, earned, by reading the rest of the book - was denied me in favour of this tired old mystic twaddle, which threw out the satisfying climax in favour of something much LESS interesting.

This unwanted twist also reminded me of the actual premise of the book, which suddenly made less sense. The City of the Dead turns out to be neither a City nor full of anything Dead, and as the machines are described as still functional, I can't see how the Mai trader in the prelude has apparently looted one for a vast bar of sunit (nor indeed how he brought it back on his own...). It also turns out that, although the humans were given permission to explore the river in the hopes of them finding the City for the Mai, the Mai don't seem to have ever had a clever plan to actually benefit from that discovery; they're clearly stated as being too wary to risk the journey themselves, so how do they expect to get any sunit back? The devious plan they do have in place turns out to be ambushing the boat on its way up the river, which... doesn't get them any sunit, so why bother with the whole City of the Dead thing in the first place? Similarly, Homat ends up undermining his own perfectly functional plans for huge self-betterment.

Basically, this is a mostly solid and pleasant read, with novel and interesting settings and ideas, which ends up undermining itself by suddenly trying to be a completely different book (in a different subgenre) in the last chapter, bringing its own plotlines into question and denying the reader satisfying resolutions to the issues the rest of the book has dealt with. We get a quick 'happy ending' for the relationship plotline, rather than anything substantial; the scientific elements are largely ignored; the alien characters are all dead in a fairly unsatisfying way; and there's no indication of what the successful journey means for (or says about) the interrelation of the three native sentient species. Instead, ADF gives me a sudden infodump of exposition that I never wanted to explain the world whose nature I hadn't been nudged to question, a bit of "powerful beings are looking after things" and more exposition about the nature of these new aliens he's suddenly introduced, and some random portentiousness.

I'm still glad I've read it, and I enjoyed it on the whole, but it's frustrating to think how much better it would have been - both more enjoyable and simply better and more interesting as a book - if ADF had simply made good on the premise and promise of the bulk of the book. My experience here will make me wary of getting invested in any of his other works, for fear of being cheated in the same way. show less

"Credendo vides" - by believing, one sees. This is the motto of this magical voyage into the world of myth and folklore. The story opens as widowed Professor Algernon Aisling, who teaches mythology and legends at the nearby university, is confronted by a skeptical colleague, who claims that such fairy stories are of little value, and have no place in the academy. Disheartened, he returns home, where his daughters Miranda (sixteen) and Cassandra (nine) await him. That night, a magical flying show more ship called the H.M.S. Basset arrives, captained by the dwarf Malachi, and the Algernon family embark on a voyage that will take them to the heart of myth. They have many adventures, encountering all many of creatures, from mermaids to dryads. But will the professor regain his sense of perspective, or will he allow the taunting he has received to prompt him down the wrong path, when it comes to how to interact with myths and the beings who inhabit them...?

Voyage of the Basset made the perfect introductory text for the class I once taught on the connections between children's fantasy fiction and folklore. It explores a number of interesting questions, from the place of myth in the academy to the proper way to approach legendary material. It makes a strong argument for the idea that myth, folklore and legend are not something that can be quantified, and proven or disproven, but that they are real and powerful, nevertheless. It does all this while also telling an entertaining tale! I am in sympathy with the spirit of the project undertaken here, I appreciated the names - Aisling, for instance, means "dream" or "vision" in Irish - and I thought the artwork was gorgeous! This is a larger format book, in the same vein as the original Dinotopia, and like that work, it spawned a series of paperback fantasies based upon it, as well as a television adaptation. Appealing in so many ways, this was almost a five-star title for me, but something - perhaps the lack of a deep emotional connection to the characters? - held me back. Still, and absolutely outstanding book for young readers who love fantasy, folklore and myth. show less