The Boule Chamber of the Capitol of the Republic of Mars in located in Mars City, a huge habitat enclosed in glass with soaring glass towers and connected by tube trains. In fact, the city is almost the entire Republic of Mars, excepting a few military outposts of the Flight System. Ruled by the veterans of the bloody rebellion which led to the planet’s independence from Earth, the humans of Mars have constructed a technological utopia that far surpasses their indolent, wasteful and greedy cousins on Earth. They have mastered nuclear fusion technology and moved the dwarf planet Ceres into orbit around Mars to serve as their third moon. Soon they plan to turn its icy surface into the precious water needed on their home world.

But the Martians lack expertise in hydrology and hydraulic engineering. They need help from their watery neighboring world. Help may be arriving soon. The diplomatic ship, the Maearth is returning to Mars with a delegation of political and industrial leaders from Earth and a group of the Martians’ daughters and sons, the Mercury Group. Named for the ancient Roman god, these messengers and exchange students from Mars lived for years on Earth, as good will ambassadors absorbing information about the cultures and ways of their hosts across the globe.

Among them is Luoying, a dancer, and the granddaughter of Hans Sloan, the consul of Mars, or as he’s referred to on Earth, “the great dictator.” On her return home Luoying finds herself somewhat ill at ease, and a bit alienated from her childhood home. And she’s not the only member of the Mercury Group to feel this way. But what are they going to do with these feelings? There is no consensus among them, but they feel they ought to do something. As the author states in the prologue to the first part, “This is a tale of the fall of the last utopia.”

It’s also a highly literate philosophical novel bristling with ideas about politics, human nature, art, and a passion for ideals. It filled to the brim with conflicts: between generations, individual freedom and collective unity, capitalism versus a technological socialist utopia, creativity versus commerce, highbrows versus lowbrows, and chocked full of cultural misunderstandings. Through her characters and the results of their actions, the author presents sound arguments for both sides. The closest she comes to hinting at her own point of view is with her ubiquitous quotes from Albert Camus. This is a true wonder of a book, both subtle and profound. ( )

Excellent read that in my opinion falls more under literary fiction than science fiction, reminds me a bit of one of Kim Stanley Robinson's books. I have only two criticisms, one it was very lengthy and I honestly believed the story could still have been done well if only they cut out a third of the book. It was divided into 3 parts and was lengthy in the introspective parts. If it was cut down to two parts it would have been easier to follow and more enjoyable. Two, there wasn't much in the way of diversity which I found extremely disappointing since Mars was (at least at the beginning) being held up as a genuine utopia. There was no mention of race beyond vague skin tone descriptions of characters, no mention of non binary gender identities, LGBTIA mentions, no mention of gender inequality that was clearly present and most if not all the women in the story were in artistic careers not in the sciences. Maybe I am being nitpicky but in my vision of a futuristic utopia I would want to see women in leaderships positions, in the 'hard' sciences, in the military, etc alongside men. ( )

A story that covers discrimination, economics, social structure, love, and technology. Very skillfully told by the author. Leaves the reader with much to ponder as the story unfolds and questions arise about why is right and what is true. My kind of book. ( )

I came to this book knowing that it was highly touted as a potential nominee for a Hugo, so while I wouldn't say that I was daring Hao to impress me, I did have expectations. Were those expectations met? To a large degree, yes. It would have been useful to know beforehand that Hao has an advanced level of academic training, and is a practitioner of social policy, as this book is very much an example of the case where the characters embody arguments of how one should live one's life. While I wouldn't say that this then reduces these characters to cardboard, or that this work is didactic, it does mute the tones of personality. As has been noted, much of the story boils down to the character of the Martian girl Luoying, who is trying to understand how her world is as it is, after having received a social education on Earth. This is not a book that is trying to knock you over, but I'd argue that it is worth the investment of time. Recommended for fans of Kim Stanley Robinson. I would also not be surprised to see it wind up on the Hugo short list for best novel; though I think 2021 will be a very competitive year. ( )

“To be interesting, rely on your head; to be faithful, rely on your heart and eyes.”



In “Vagabonds” by Hao Jingfang



Prior to “Vagabonds” I read Liu’s translation of Chinese SF: “Invisible Planets - Contemporary Chinese Science Fiction”; my favourite story was Jingfang’s “Folding Beijing”. I was eagerly anticipating Jingfang’s first novel in English (also translated by Liu).

From a point of view of a normal SF consumer, I think there is a growing resistance to any novel in the English language, which does not follow a linear narrative or even simply has what the reader deems to be 'gaps' or using a sort of dreamlike narrative. There is a clear demand for every last element of the story to be written out and even minor character to have their lives resolved (I just finished the fourth volume of the Expanse Series and I couldn’t have found a better counterpoint). In Western SF No-one is allowed to 'ride into the sunset' without the author saying what it was like when the character reached the next town and bedded down for the night and then what the rest of their life entailed. Western readers nowadays are becoming very narrow in what they will tolerate, anything diverging from that simple, often very comprehensive (to the point of tedium) approach is condemned as 'bizarre' or 'weak'.

There is now push-back against unreliable narrators too and people struggling to cope with substantial challenges, even more so in movies, but still also with novels. However, it seems a pity that unreliable narrators/struggling heroic characters of any gender are ruled out entirely and that what is articulated must be accurate, perhaps even omniscient. Maybe anyone who favours a more uncertain narrator or struggling heroic character is now perceived to not want a 'proper' book or to want the silencing of certain groups in our society, rather than perhaps a more intellectually challenging/stimulating approach to writing.

Jingfang’s novel has its core the fact that trying to make things better and utopias are not the same thing. The one essential ingredient that most utopian ideas overlook is change. The universe, planets and life are all dynamic. Never static. And change can be unpredictable. Utopias will almost always find themselves contradicted or in conflict with some aspects of that change. In attempting to deal with it they become inflexible and despotic. That inflexibility (of utopian planning, generally) is a fair call, but Newman, but I should argue explicitly for the more limited utopianism of 'making things better', rather than the more authoritarian-tending fix-everything-in-one-swoop-with-one-rigid-blueprint utopianism that Western SF readers see in much real-world utopianism (or fake-utopianism, cf. Stalin, and Mao).

Of course, isn't the whole point of Utopia that it isn't actually possible? Yes, we can (and should) strive towards such a thing, but it's no more likely to be achieved than is a perpetual motion machine. It's a fantasy. Dystopian fiction shows us the myriad ways in which a search for Utopia might fail. I'd take strong issue with the writer's proposal that Gilead is a Christian utopia; it's very precisely a Christian dystopia. The problem is that stories like Jingfang’s want to have a point, and that often means showing that working towards utopia ironically leads to things being massively worse off for others - so whether intentionally or not, you end up with a parable about how you should just accept things as they are because you'll only screw them up. It's interesting to compare this novel to TV shows like Star Trek, or Iain M Banks' Culture novels, where the utopian society is already established and just forms the background to other stories. This is really just an extension of the "be careful what you wish for" trope in old folk tales. A couple gets three wishes: one of them uses the first one selfishly; the other uses the second one to attack them out of spite; and they end up using the third to put everything back to normal.

I am glad to see that some publishers (I must check who published “Vagabonds”) are at least still trying to highlight, even laud, different narrative approaches in the face of so much popular hostility to them, so much more vocal in these days of online ratings and customer feedback. ( )