Teaser Tuesday again, from Should Be Reading.
The past had a way of coming back up out of the ground. Always right below your feet.
p. 199, City of Bones. Michael Connelly
The Coming
© 2000 Joe Haldeman
217 pages

2054. Earth. The future isn’t what it used to be. The seas are rising — Florida cities are frantically trying to build seawalls for protection — and the outlook is deteriorating. The United States is led by a perky but depressingly imbecilic woman named Carlie (who may or may not be able to see Russia from her house), the eastern hemisphere is increasingly dominated by large, hostile alliances like “The Eastern Bloc”, and Germany and France are on the brink of war. And then down in Gainsville Florida, astronomer Aurora Bell picks up a signal. Confirming its existence with Japan’s station on the Moon, she realizes to her shock that it’s in English.
“We’re coming”. Repeated sixty times. Something from outside the solar system, using an unbelievable amount of energy, is coming — and Earth has three months to be prepared. What is it? Aliens? Jesus? The revolt of the urban proletariat? While the potential for contact with alien lifeforms would seem to take precedence, it recedes into the background after an initial surge of interest. While the clock ticks down, people live out their lives. In Gainsville, a man is being blackmailed by the Mafia, who threaten to make public his homosexuality — now a crime in the United States. His wife, meanwhile, tries to keep the president from leading the entire world into oblivion. No, Madame President, it may not be the best time to launch supernukes into orbit at a time when France and Germany are blowing up each other’s parliaments and playing chicken with their tanks on the border. As the date of the coming approaches, tension reaches crisis level, and then —
Have you ever witnessed a small child trying to blow bubbles? Clutching a slippery bottle filled with the soapy fluid in one hand, and grasping the plastic bubble-blower in another, she carefully fills a pocket of the solution with air. It grows bigger and bigger, and you know it’s going to be a beautiful, big bubble when it escapes, and then — it pops.
If you haven’t, then read this novel and maybe you’ll experience that feeling. While the premise fascinated me, my enthusiasm never caught. There was nothing for it to catch on. Haldeman employs an interesting style of writing here: the novel is presented in a relatively seamless succession of viewpoint characters. They’re a diverse lot, with varying roles to play in the story. Some don’t even play a role in the story, they just exist because, hey — wouldn’t you want to know how pornography is filmed in 2054? This viewpoint succession threw me off at first, until I realized that the new character was someone already in-scene, and all I had to do was make a slight jump — switch trains of thought, as it were. The problem, though, is that the trains of thought speed up and slow down at random, and often arrive at the station in rapid succession. At one point there were three jumps in two pages, and one character only had a paragraph, leaving me feeling very disoriented.
It doesn’t help that all this jumping has little bearing on the plot, if there is one. While this is advertised as a science fiction novel and bookended by the announcement and arrival of The Coming, what science there is in here is limited to technology — three-dimensional television, interactive pornography, and semen-based drugs. The plot consists of the announcement, people living their lives for three months, and the ending. It’s not coherent. It left me wondering, “This is it?” There are five-star reviews for this book on Amazon, and most of them focus on the characterization and presentation of how the world might look in fifty years. I found the people and predictions to be bleak, though there were a couple of characters who I hoped would make it out all right. While the off-beat ending was unexpected (and a little disappointing), and the writing took some getting used to, the book’s central weakness for me is that so much of it is utterly relevant to the presumed plot. This is not about The Coming. This is about people living in 2054. That may be of interest to you — it was in part to me — but don’t pick this book up expecting Contact.
The last two weeks have been rather enjoyable, reading-wise. I’ve been reading from the lost books of the Septuagint — books which were in the original Jewish and Christian canons, but discarded by Martin Luther — and finding them interesting looks into the Jewish mind as it grew through the centuries. I also continued in Asimov’s Empire series and returned to the Sharpe books by Bernard Cornwell, but the most memorable book from this period has been Joe Haldeman’s The Accidental Time Machine, which borders on absurdist science fiction. Haldeman is an SF author whose work I’m just starting to explore.

Those enamored of the good doctor Isaac Asimov may be interested in reading a series of posts by literary agent and author Frederik Pohl, who knew Asimov growing up and remained friends with him throughout his life.
Selected Quotations:
Late in the cruise I discovered that Carl Sagan (the well-known astronomer from Cornell) did not take kindly to the swaying of the ship. At once I told him, in full and moving detail, of the exact matter in which the various ship’s motions failed to affect me, attributing my immunity to nausea to superior genes and a ready intelligence.
Carl showed no signs of gratitude.
p. 206, The Tragedy of the Moon (Isaac Asimov)
Do not let your passions be your guide, but restrain your desires. If you indulge yourself with all that passion fancies, it will make you the butt of your enemies. (Ecclesiasticus 18: 30-31)
A hasty argument kindles a fire, and a hasty quarrel leads to bloodshed. Blow on a spark to make it glow, or spit on it to put it out; both results come from the one mouth. (27: 11-12)
This next week..
The Tragedy of the Moon
© Isaac Asimov 1978
224 pages
I for one enjoyed myself tremendously reading this.

This week The Broke and the Bookish are dicussing their favorite books they found through recommendations. Happily I have a ‘reccommended‘ label just for an occasion such as this.
1. Redwall, Brian Jacques (Librarian)
My home librarian suggested this book to me many years ago, and I remember fording the marsh behind my house and finding a quiet place in the woods to read it. As I’ve mentioned before, it was the first time I’d ever read an epic novel, or a work of fantasy, and the idea of exploring this world with its massive history excited me.
2. Sharpe’s Eagle, Bernard Cornwell (Seeking a Little Truth)
While I haven’t yet read most of or even much of the Sharpe series, this book introduced me to Bernard Cornwell. He’s become a favorite of mine the last year: I’m positively wild for his Saxon Stories series which are about politics, friendship, family, and war during the 800s in England, where Anglo-Saxons and Danes fought to rule Britain.
3. Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, J. K. Rowling
This book wasn’t just recommended to me, I had a pack of friends who followed me around like ducks, pecking me on the legs and quacking “Read it!” I avoided it for years because the books were too popular, but in August 2007 I picked up the first novel. I’d read the series through by the end of September, and I re-read them that December. Since then Potterdom has entered into the Holy Trinity of things I am geeky about, along with Star Trek and Star Wars. (Though I guess becoming a Firefly fan has made it a quad…)
4. The Quiet Game, Greg Iles (Sister)
I’ve never read anyone who does thrillers like Greg Iles, and his usual southern gothic setting is a delight. The Quiet Game started me on Iles, and introduced his oft-used character Penn Gage, a lawyer-novelist turned mayor of his hometown. The Penn Gage mysteries tend to involve criminal mysteries and discussion of social and cultural issues set inside the steamy historic town of Natchez, Mississippi.
5. The Destiny Trilogy, David Mack (Everyone at the TrekBBS)
(Mere Mortals, Gods of Night, Lost Souls)
I have heard about these Star Trek novels for years. Ever since their release, every book thread at TrekBBS has mentioned the Destiny trilogy reverently. Last year I picked them up, and I figured — no way will this live up to the hype. I put it off for a few weeks because I dreaded being disappointed, but once I began to read….they’re glorious.
7. Amusing Ourselves to Death, Neil Postman (Sociology Professor)
An incredible look at the ever-increasing domination of society by entertainment, and what that is doing to political commentary, the news, and our worldviews.
8. How Few Remain, Harry Turtledove (University Acquaintance)
How Few Remain is the start of a large alternate-history series which begins with the success of the southern rebellion in the United States, and the establishment of a Confederacy protected by Britain and France. Turtledove follows this new geopolitical scheme ’til the end of the second world war. While versions of the Great War and World War 2 both feature prominently, they play out very differently. The two American states are on opposite sides of the conflict, which is why I spent twelve+ books cheering on the Prussians and American socialists in their fight against Confederate Nazis, the Canadian resistance, and Mormon terrorists.
…it’s a fun series.
9. No Ordinary Time, Doris Kearns Goodwin (Friend)
The story of the Roosevelt White House, in which FDR fights the Great Depression, racism, and corporate selfishness in an attempt to righten the American economy, make it a more democratic nation, and fight the Nazi’s
10. Persian Fire, Tom Holland (The Resolute Reader)
The story of the conflict between Greece and Persia. The book is especially helpful for those wishing to understand the Persian mind and that which followed, for Christianity, Judaism, and Islam all have a bloodline that makes them partially related to Persia’s Zoroastrianism.
Honorable Mention: The Know-It-All, A.J. Jacobs…a humorous account of a man who tried to read the entire Encyclopedia Britannica.
Sharpe’s Rifles
© 1988 Bernard Cornwell
304 pages

It’s the year 1809, and Richard Sharpe has just survived a slaughter in the wintry wastelands of Spain. Cut off from the army and surrounded by Frenchman, the lieutenant — promoted from the ranks after he saved the future Duke of Wellington’s life — must assume command of what his left of his regiment and lead them to safety. They are not impressed with a soldier-turned-officer such as he, and his life is imperiled not only by the abundance of the enemy and the savageness of the terrain, but by his own soldiers’ risk to mutiny. In the hills, however, Sharpe meets a group of battered Spanish cavalrymen who carry a box of such great important that their major thinks it may turn Spain’s almost-defeat at the hands of Napoleon around to victory.
It’s been a few months since I read my first Sharpe’s book, largely because I’ve been enjoying Cornwell’s other work. Before finishing off the Grailquest series I decided to repay Sharpe a visit, and — of course — it was well worth the while. Sharpe’s Rifles tells the story of how Sharpe came to command the 95th rifles, with whom he shares an antagonistic relationship throughout the novel — especially regarding Patrick Harper, the large and surly Irishman who is the rifles’ leader despite his lack of rank or battle honors. Although Harper and Sharpe are battlefield comrades and close friends in later novels, here their conversations tend to involve a great deal of physical violence. While I haven’t read enough of the Sharpe novels to appreciate everything a ‘prequel’ novel like this would hint at, I was as usual impressed by Cornwell’s dramatic flair and characterization. I especially enjoyed his depiction of the cynical Sharpe set against his superstitious comrades and allies, who use holy water to drive away malevolent water-spirits in streams they wish to ford. Cornwell’s lead characters tend to lean away from religion, a fact, I’ve always appreciated — and the one religious protagonist I’ve seen of Cornwell’s came in Heretic.
Having seen the movie first, I was concerned that the novel itself would seem like old hat. Although Sharpe’s ultimate objective is the same in both works, the movie and book reach their ends through considerably different means. As much as I enjoyed the movie, Cornwell’s writing is far superior, especially in the endgame where Sharpe has a private motivation to capture the final objective, one which overwhelms the military or strategic importance of it. That personal quest captured my attention in the book’s final chapters.
I’m beginning to suspect that it doesn’t matter which order I read the Sharpe novels in, and I’m tempted to hang both the chronological and order-of-publish approaches and just read the books in the order that they strike my interest. I will be marching with Lieutenant Sharpe again, in any case.


Ecclesiasticus or The Wisdom of Jesus, Son of Sirach
From The New English Bible, pp. 158 -251
© Oxford and Cambridge Universities 1970

Last week I read the Book of Wisdom, a title within the original Jewish and Christian bibles, but one discarded by Protestants. In an effort to learn more about the evolution of Judaism and Christianity, and out of my own interest in wisdom literature, I’m continuing to read from the more complete Catholic canon. Ecclesiasticus is also placed firmly within the genre of wisdom literature and is largely similar to Proverbs in being an extended collection of observations, maxims, and advice. The author also tacked on Book of Wisdom-like devotions to wisdom, poetic history, and two sections of praise worthy of the Psalms.
Ecclesiastisicus is definitely an interesting little book. I forgave its frequent praise of submission and obedience (to kings, priests, etc) as being a fault of the times which produced it, and delighted in its frequent references to emotional self-control, especially given that the author seems to have been influenced by Stoic cosmology, using ‘wisdom’ in the opening section in the same way that a Stoic might refer to the divine fire: it is rational, fused into the universe, and given to mankind so that we might draw closer to God. While a fair bit of the advice consists of objections worth reflecting on (“Do not overrate one man for his good lucks or be repelled by another man’s appearance”), other advice stands out. I would have never expected to read admonishments to examine evidence and engage in reflection before making a judgment, and to put conscience before deferment to authority in a religious text that places so much emphasis on faith and obedience to authority.
I have still more in my mind to express;
I am full like the moon at mid-month.
Listen to me, my devout sons, and blossom like a rose planted by a stream.
Spread your fragrance like incense; and bloom like a lily. (39: 12 – 14)
It’s hard to get a handle on the author of Ecclesiasticus. He seems pious and introspective, yet at the same time encourages readers to make hay while the sun shines — ‘you will enjoy no luxuries in the grave’. Like Epicures and the author of Ecclesiastes, he obviously doesn’t consider pleasure a mortal failing: he only warns against excesses. Speaking of excesses, he unfortunately his own — especially in the hate department. I am surprised that “Jesus, Son of Sirach” doesn’t enjoy more name recognition in the United States: publishers have obviously missed two huge markets to sell his thoughts to: those who subscribe to the American Family Radio school of parenting would adore his brutal approach, which consists of breaking the will of sons and bemoaning virginal daughters as liabilities who are remarkable only for their potential bringing shame to the family; and gangsta rappers would delight in his fantastic misogyny, which crippled the closing two fifths of the book for me.. As I read line after demonizing line, culminating in the classic “Better a man’s wickedness than a womans goodness; it is woman who brings shame and disgrace (42: 14)”, I thought to myself that this guy had some serious frustration issues to work out. Obviously, he didn’t have a happy love life. His attitude toward slaves borders on schizophrenic: he warns readers to keep their slaves constantly working, or on the rack being tortured, lest they run away — and then on the very next page, scarcely twenty lines later, suggests treating them like family. Considering this fellow’s attitude toward wives, sons, and daughters, however, I would not be surprised if he recommended the rack for them. I’m still reeling from the moral whiplash: the lack of consistency is problematic, and why I would recommend Marcus Aurelius or a similar philosopher over this faithful, but unpredictable, wisdom-seeker.
All in all, an interesting book. It’s not as revealing of the Jewish and early Christian mind as the Book of Wisdom, but if you excised a few choice sections there’s a fair bit of value here. Just er, don’t give it as a Mother’s Day present.
The Accidental Time Machine
© 2007 Joe Haldeman
278 pages

When underachieving-and-mildly-discontent MIT graduate student tested a new calibrator for his professor’s lab work, he didn’t expect it to vanish for twelve seconds. More precisely, he didn’t expect it to jump in time twelve seconds. But it did, and like a true scientist he pressed it again — this time, taking notes. While Boston hunkers in under a snowstorm, Matt takes the calibrator to his home and begins running tests, noting that the length of the temporal jumps seems to increase exponentially with every push of the button. After his turtle returned from a jump alive and relatively unrattled, Matt decided to make a jump himself — and he does, a few weeks in to the future where he is under arrest for theft and murder. Oops.
While the novel’s front cover seems to advertise that this little adventure would be the whole of the plot, a mysterious stranger bails Matt out and he presses the button again — and stumbles into a bizarre, tense, whimsical, and utterly unpredictable plot that involves a paradoxical religious dictatorship in the United States, dinosaurs, talking bears, and at least two Jesus Christs, one of which probably lives on a space station.
…yeah. I first heard of Joe Haldeman through his The Forever War, a story of the futility of war and the alienation of soldiers from society, so I wasn’t expecting something this funny to read. I generally expect science fiction to be Serious Business, but Haldeman’s work is filled with comedy — both from the absurd situation and his dialogue. Haldeman’s worldbuilding — in creating various future-earth scenarios — fascinated me, and so I wolfed this book down in a single sitting. It’s not quite hard science: Haldeman tried to keep it grounded in serious theories, but admitted to looking for an esoteric source for his temporal anomaly that would not be overturned by real scientific revelations anytime soon, and which most readers wouldn’t know enough about to take serious issue with his approach. It involves string theory, branes, and multiple dimensions, so that’s a safe bet.
Accidental Time Machine is an entertaining, very readable novel that had the same effect on me as a thriller or a Christopher Moore book. Its ending managed to be satisfying without resolving everything too neatly — leaving room for speculation as to the ultimate endgame. I will definitely be reading more Haldeman.
Disaster 1906: the San Francisco Earthquake and Fire
© 1967 Edward F. Dolan Jr.
172 pages

Years ago I read a fantastic book called Disaster! The Great Earthquake and Fire of 1906. A few years later I determined I wanted to buy my own copy of that book, but alas! Woe! My home library no longer had the book and I forgot the title of it. I hit Amazon, and this seemed like it might be what I was looking for. It actually isn’t, as I found out while reading the book and noticed that key elements from the masterpiece I remembered were missing — like Enrico Caruso hearing of the volcano eruption in his hometown and thanking God he was in safe San Francisco, only to wake up to an earthquake and an inferno.
Disaster stories interest me, hence why my home library contains several books on the Titanic and why I’ve read various books on the San Francisco and Chicago fires, as well as the Galveston Hurricane. Part of this is what Augustine might call gross curiosity — the appeal of looking at a car wreck — but I’m also fascinated by the way people react when their world is completely eradicated and the society-as-usual no longer exists. In Disaster 1906, the sleeping town of San Francisco is visited by a mighty earthquake, and then ravaged for several days by fires which consume much of the city. Communications are negligible, the water pipes are dry, and yet — people survive. People freely gather together to help pick up the ruins, men from all walks of life join the fire brigades, women empty their pantries cooking food for the newly-homeless, and a corrupt mayor suddenly begins to fulfill his moral responsibilities as a public official and becomes a hero. And people are clever! They improvise! They fill the bathtubs with water before the cisterns leak completely dry, saving the water for use in fire fighting: they construct stoves of bricks and random metal grates. Throughout the long night, as the fires burn and destroy homes, businesses, and all the hopes of tomorrow, people gather together and tell jokes: they sing and entertain one another, and when they day breaks they start picking up the pieces.
Disaster 1906 was probably written for younger readers given its length, but it’s a fine introduction to the disaster and one written by someone who grew up in San Francisco, and who is so fond of the City by the Bay that his last chapter is devoted to commenting on the rebirth of the city after the disaster, in which the wild child of the west coast grew into a Queen who astonished all the world at the Exposition in 1916, but who maintained her childish sassiness.
Related:
This is my fifth review in 15 hours, and while two of those were leftovers from last week and the week before last, it’s still odd. Why do I go days without being able to progress in collecting my thoughts on a given book, and then have days in which it’s easy?