David R. Palmer

Apocalypse? Hugo nominee? An eleven year-old girl? A pet parrot? Friend recommendation? Sign me up!

The first part of the story was published in 1981 as a novella in Analog Magazine, followed two years later by Part Two. Both, I think, had well-deserved Hugo noms, and the novel itself was nominated for a Hugo and Locus when published in 1984. Quite honestly, I think I would have loved it had I found it then or a few years after. Seriously, why on earth was I reading Piers Anthony when I could show more have been reading about a kick-ass girl navigating an empty world?

"Whereupon, for very first time in entire life, Candy Smith-Foster--plucky girl adventurer; most promising pre-adolescent intellect yet discovered amongst Homo post hominem population; youngest ever holder of Sixth Degree Black Belt; resourceful, unstoppable, never-say-die superkid; conquereror of unthinkable odds... Fainted."

The story wastes no time into diving into a series of world-scale catastrophes. Candy's father had been a highly-placed government consultant and doctor, and had the foresight to construct a very comprehensive bunker with just about every resource except hydrophonic gardens. Eventually, she decides to check on life outside and discovers everyone dead, as well discovering a closely-guarded secret of her neighbor and mentor.

It's an intriguing beginning, and I might have been a little bothered by the Speshul Snowflake syndrome (Candy is truly capable of everything) except she is so direct and honest about her feelings that her stiff-upper-lip self-talk and overall competence comes off as courageous.

The narrative structure is--how do I say this--interesting, and now that I know the seeds of the story were in a novella, it makes more sense as a 'hook.' Candy uses a type of shorthand to write her journals, and the 'translation' of it comes across as quite staccato, missing conjunctions and normal sentence structure. Initially, I found it annoying, but it eventually grew on me. Surprisingly, it still does a nice job conveying emotion, whether it's Candy's distress or her self-depreciating humor.

I admit, one of my favorite characters was Terry, frequently referred to as Candy's adoptive twin brother. But I'm biased; as the owner of three parrots, I thought Palmer's characterization was spot-on and hilarious. Terry is a beautiful hyacinth macaw whose "diet is anything within reach, but ideally consists of properly mixed seeds, assorted fruits, nuts, sprinkling of meat, etc. Hobbies include getting head and neck scratched (serious business, this), art of conversation, destruction of world." I did wonder if the average reader would have appreciated the little throw-away notes about Terry, which captured the psittacine love of drama and propensity for destruction.

All that said, there's some barriers here. One is the cognitive dissonance between Candy's mature voice and immature age of eleven, although that is generally acceptably explained within the confines of the story. Two, there's some parts of this that feel more than a little early 80s, particularly Candy's characterization of Terry as her "retarded baby brother." I remember that word being rather prevalent in adolescent vocabulary when I was younger, although even then it was undergoing cultural shift towards unacceptability. On the same note, the general structure of the apocalypse feels a little dispassionate Cold War kind of dynamic rather than the disseminated violence we see more often these days.

Thirdly, and perhaps most significantly, I don't know what the hell Palmer was thinking at about page 200 or so (Volume III--Part Two--Portents). The last 'volume' of the book takes a fairly significant curve in plotting and ties in opposition (a shadowy opposing agency) along with telepathic-type developments. I think I could have settled for one or the other, but both strained credulity of the world Palmer had created, that of the advanced Homo post hominem.

Overall, generally enjoyed it a great deal until page 200, at which point I was significantly less impressed. The voice is entertaining, it's an interesting story and it generally avoids the depressing death-decay-violence we see in most apocalypse stories, focusing on self-empowerment and discovering connections. I'd recommend it, especially to younger apocalypse fans who might be more forgiving about the ending developments.

Three and a half, rounding up because of spot-on parrot characterization. show less

An eleven year old girl survives nuclear war in a fallout shelter. Candy writes her story for posterity, in shorthand in a series of journals. Extraneous words like pronouns and conjunctions are mostly left out. I had no issues with the style, because that is pretty much how I read anyway, and it perfectly matches Candy's personality. There is just the right amount of humour, and the plot gains momentum until I found myself reading at 1:30am, squinting as the letters got blurrier and show more blurrier. Despite Candy's age, the book is aimed at an adult audience. There were a couple of plot points that I had issues with, but enjoyed the rest of the book immensely. I'll buy a copy if it ever comes out for Kindle, but I won't buy a 1984 paperback version because the font is too hard on my eyes. show less

Had not heard of this little gem before and am very glad to have experienced a difficult-to-get copy via ILL. Returned to library today. Sorry to see it go.

Pros:
- Fast-paced
- Very distinctive writing style
- Interesting protagonist
- Journal-based narrative allows limited head-hopping
- Plot takes unexpected turns resulting in expanded view of world, (moves from extremely limited environment to fully expanded viewpoints).

Cons, (not many but...):
-Aforementioned head-hopping. Handled reasonably show more well but remained mild irritant when deployed.
-Several semi-squicky scenes sexualizing 11-year old girl as relates to middle-aged men. Hard to tell if this is simple wish-fulfillment by author or sly poke at Heinlein, et al. Thankfully, scenes are short and not overtly dwelled upon.

Deducted half a star from my rating for the 'squicky' aspect as it was the one element that keeps this book from attaining a spot on my all-time-faves list. Likely I might buy a copy for my own library at some point if...

#1) Comes back into print or...
#2) Used-copy prices revert to reasonable levels.

If you can find this book, it's well worth reading as it deserves a wider audience. There is apparently a sequel but it is even more difficult to acquire since it was only released in serial form via Analog Magazine. Off to do some googling... show less

Emergence is the story of young Candidia Smith-Foster, plucky girl adventurer of the Apocalypse, and it shouldn’t have worked. It’s written as a series of journal-entries, all Candy’s–except for a bit near the end, written by someone she met on her adventures–and she uses an idiomatic form of shorthand English with “superfluous” words (words assumed from context) removed. Opening lines:

Nothing to do? Nowhere to go? Time hangs heavy? Bored? Depressed? Also badly scared? Causal show more factors beyond control?

Unfortunate. Regrettable. Vicious cycle–snake swallowing own tail. Mind dwells on problems, problems fester, assume even greater importance for mind to dwell on. Etc. Bad enough were problems minor.

Mine aren’t.

Candy is writing this journal as therapy, to break out of the “vicious cycle” caused by her situation; she’s stuck in a private shelter (built by her sadly absent genius father), with only her idiot little brother Terry (really a very smart macaw) for company. And above-ground the world has ended in an orgy of Mutually Assured Destruction. It’s a fairly tidy one; the Cold War goes hot and Soviet Russia launches a biological attack that wipes out virtually all human life on the North American Continent, and presumably the rest of the world, in days. The US retaliates with an old-fashioned all-in nuclear strike that sterilizes large parts of northern Eurasia.

So the book begins with a downer and Candy gets to listen on the radio while shelter after shelter goes silent as the pre-planted supervirus kills even the most prepared. Since the triggered virus works fast, she keeps a pistol handy so she can shoot Terry if symptoms start presenting themselves (since they’re stuck underground, if she doesn’t do him that Final Favor he’ll starve to death). While waiting for the Last Cold Ever to set in, she begins the journal to clear her head and we get to learn her biography, leading up to her unexpected but fortuitous entombment.

So. End of world. Girl stuck in shelter, awaiting death, writing journal in shorthand English. Shouldn’t have worked. Did.

Why? Because Candidia Smith-Foster is one of the best characters ever written, the most clear-eyed, competent, child-genius protagonist ever to grace a story. Palmer’s skill at internal dialogue is enormous; by the end of the first chapter we know her, and are cheering for her all the way. And, far more than a Robinson Crusoe-type survival story, or even a post-Apocalypse road-trip, Emergence catches us again and again with surprises that come out of nowhere and yet are organically part of the plot. You see, it turns out there’s a reason why she survived the virus; Candidia Smith-Foster isn’t human. And there are others like her, if only she can find them… show less