A Desolation Called Peace by Arkady Martine

Published by Tor Books on March 2, 2021

Science fiction novels that emphasize diplomacy over war are less common than military science fiction, but they aren’t rare. C.J. Cherryh and Keith Laumer once dominated the field, but a new generation of writers has made diplomacy a strong theme in their work. Richard Baker’s Breaker of Empire series tends to give equal weight to fighting and negotiating, while Arkady Martine’s Tiexcalaan series tips that balance decidedly in favor of exploring political relationships. The series’ second entry, A Desolation Called Peace, moves the focus from the threat of war among humans to the fact of war with aliens whose behavior seems particularly ruthless. Why the aliens are attacking is difficult for humans to understand because, whenever the aliens make sounds that might be an attempt at communication, humans feel the urge to vomit.

As we learned in Arkady Martine’s excellent A Memory Called Empire, Mahit Dzmare is an ambassador to Tiexcalaan from Lsel Station. Mahit has been implanted with an imago that carries the memories of her predecessor. By the end of the first novel, Mahit has a second imago, the first having been sabotaged. Now she is up to date on the memories her predecessor formed before his death. Some of those memories reveal that her predecessor didn’t behave exactly as an ambassador should, or at least not as Lsel Station expected. Now Mahit is back on Lsel and is worried that the Councilor of Heritage will learn of the second implant and arrange for her to die on the operating table when it is disconnected from her brain.

While Mahit ponders her fate, Three Seagrass, a bureaucrat from Tiexcalaan whose job includes diplomacy, travels to Lsel on her way to the fleet flagship, where she has been tasked with establishing communications with aliens who have wiped out a Tiexcalaan colony. The aliens travel in ships that seem to appear from nowhere and ooze a substance that disintegrates opposing ships, which fleet pilots find particularly creepy. Their anxiety is magnified by a new technology that lets them communicate with other without a time lag, a technology that even the emperor doesn’t know about.

Three Seagrass decides to bring Mahit on her diplomatic mission because Mahit is good with languages, communication, and diplomacy. Besides, Three Seagrass kissed Mahit in the previous novel and would like to do it again, even if Mahit is regarded as a barbarian by polite society on Tiexcalaan. Who says barbarians can’t be sexy?

The problem with establishing communication with aliens is always interesting. Mahit and Three Seagrass approach the challenge in logical ways (using mime and drawings while trying to make sense of the vomit-inducing sounds), but their diplomacy often takes a back seat to other political issues that drive the story. Once is a conflict between Nine Hibiscus, who is prosecuting the war for the Emperor as the fleet captain, and the commander of one of the legions, Sixteen Moonrise, who is determined to take more aggressive action than Nine Hibiscus is willing to authorize.

Another conflict is unfolding on Tiexcalaan between the current emperor and Eight Antidote, a 90% clone of the former emperor who will one day inherit the title. At the moment he’s only eleven so he still has some growing to do, but he’s an exceptionally bright and mature kid. Eight Antidote is spying for the emperor and he isn’t happy with the emperor’s response to some of the information he’s acquired. He’s particularly unhappy about a plan to annihilate an alien world on the theory that boy, that’ll teach ‘em. Warmongers are just as troublesome in the future as they have always been.

The story moves in ways that are complex and fascinating. Martine makes it easy to suspend disbelief as she imagines aliens who are hostile only because they don’t understand humans any more than humans understand them. The story’s ending is satisfying while opening the door to the next chapter of the series.

Martine writes with a keen understanding of human nature, no doubt acquired during her alternate gig as an historian. She gives her characters full personalities. She builds tension as her characters take dangerous steps to avoid the dangers of war. And she writes with a sophisticated prose style of literary quality. More than that I can’t ask.

RECOMMENDED

Raft of Stars by Andrew J. Graff

Published by HarperCollins/Ecco on March 23, 2021

Raft of Stars begins as a crime story and transforms into an adventure story, pitting three pairs of characters against nature (and sometimes against each other) as they navigate a river and forest during a violent storm. Dale Breadwin (“Bread”) and Fischer Branson (“Fish”) are best friends. Bread’s father abuses him. Fish’s father is dead, although he’s kept that a secret from Bread. The story begins with Fish shooting Bread’s father. The father had it coming, but Fish and Bread decide that running away is the better part of valor, so they set out on a Huck Finn adventure, building a raft and heading down the river.

Sheriff Cal investigates the shooting. Cal left a job in Houston after he behaved in a way that was evidently too violent even for the Houston police. Coping with crime gave Cal a drinking problem. His former boss in Houston somehow got Cal a job as interim sheriff in a northern Wisconsin county. Cal isn’t much of a cop but the county probably doesn’t need or want much of a cop.

Fish’s grandfather, Ted Branson, has a gruff manner and a good heart, a combination found in fiction more often than reality but one that appeals to readers. Ted teams with Cal to follow the kids on horseback. Ted does most of the work because Cal is no friend of horses. They exchange philosophies of life as they track the kids. Cal hates being a cop and is thinking about taking up farming. Ted hates farming — it bores him to death — but he gave up his dreams when he had a child because responsible people “give things up instead of burning the whole thing down. You just don’t light the match. You suffer when you need to.” There aren’t enough people like Ted in the world.

Tiffany Robins was born in the small Wisconsin town and expects to die there. Opportunities have not graced her life. She sees the new sheriff as an opportunity. Before she gets to know him, however, Bread and Fish are on the run and Tiffany has lost the sheriff’s dog. She teams with Fish’s mother, Miranda, to follow the boys in a canoe. Their adventure is a lesson in self-confidence for Tiffany.

Some of the story is familiar. There are bears because you can’t have a wilderness adventure without bears. There are rapids because you can’t have a river adventure without rapids. There’s a love interest because, well, just because. Yet the story isn’t entirely predictable, in part because the characters are more important than their adventures. And despite the familiarity of scenes involving bears and rapids, the scenes are so well written that they create the excitement and tension an adventure novel should deliver.

The story as a whole is sweet, occasionally bordering on saccharine, but not so often that the artificial sweetener becomes annoying. At times, the story is a bit too corny (even the names Bread and Fish are corny in tandem). I could have done without the apparent heavenly intervention that helps Fish out of a jam. Still, the novel works because the characters grow and change, in part because quarreling with each other forces them to take stock of their lives. The novel’s merits easily outweigh its flaws.

RECOMMENDED

My Friend Natalia by Laura Lindstedt

Published in Finland in 2019; published in translation by W.W. Norton & Co./Liveright Publishing on March 23, 2021

My Friend Natalia is a novel of therapy, told from the perspective of an unnamed therapist whose gender is never explicitly identified (I’ll call the therapist “she” for the sake of convenience). Natalia is the therapist’s patient. Her name probably isn’t Natalia; she encouraged the therapist to tell her story so the therapist is apparently preserving confidentiality when she says “Let’s call her Natalia.” As the title suggests, the therapist comes close to crossing professional boundaries, although it’s not entirely clear that she really regards Natalia as a friend. She does, however, allow Natalia to masturbate on her office couch during one of the therapy sessions, which is a pretty friendly thing to do. Natalia makes clear that she has a sexual attraction to her therapist, but it isn’t unusual for Natalia to feel a sexual attraction to the people in her life.

Natalia is pursuing therapy to address her obsession with sex. It’s all she ever thinks about. Sex is interesting, so Natalia’s stories about her sex life are interesting. They aren’t particularly titillating, so My Friend Natalia doesn’t work as porn, notwithstanding two impressive sketches of a penis and vagina that Natalia creates for her therapist. Nor are they particularly enlightening, as I doubt that Natalia’s personal experiences can be generalized in a productive way. The therapist draws conclusions — “Natalia went through both men and words as a way of masking her own vulnerability” — that might be more insightful than Natalia’s stories of sexuality unbound.

The therapy sessions are based on story-telling exercises, in which Natalia must invent stories that incorporate key words provided by the therapist. Natalia is loquacious. Her stories cover the chosen words like spilled water, flowing along multiple paths, seemingly at random, one element giving birth to a tangent that flows seamlessly into another. Natalia begins a story with a pornographic comic that she encountered in her childhood, then veers into a lecture on Sartre’s view of women as holes, discusses cinematic technique, and relates memories of her father peeling potatoes before she explains how her discovery of a woman’s buried body turned out to be something quite different .She discusses feminism. She ponders whether it is better to be a head without a body or a body without a head (she chooses the latter because a head can’t masturbate).

Laura Lindstedt’s prose is graceful and imaginative. I enjoyed her description of an erection as “a plea for the waiting to end.” Still, I think it likely that the novel’s meaning eluded me. A fair amount of attention is paid to a work of art hanging on the therapist’s wall called “Ear-Mouth,” a work that once belonged to Natalia’s grandmother. It disturbs her to see it on the therapist’s wall. It disturbs the therapist that Natalia perches an alarm clock on her belly during the sessions, keeping her own track of time. What does any of that mean? I don’t have a clue. Some of the story’s moments are sufficiently bizarre that they amuse, but I imagine there is more to the story than amusement. The ending sort of trails away. As is generally true of talk therapy, no obvious self-awareness ensues, although Natalia claims to have changed. Perhaps my inability to give My Friend Natalia more than a middling recommendation is my fault, but I can only bring what I have to the table, and what I have is confusion.

RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS

Deep Strike by Rick Campbell

Published by St. Martin's Press on March 16, 2021

Deep Strike is a story of submarines chasing and shooting torpedoes at other submarines. That’s what I look for in a Rick Campbell novel. The rest of the book is an ordinary thriller, but the underwater scenes are exceptional. This is the sixth book in a series but if you just read it for the action, you can easily get by without the context provided in the earlier novels.

The plot is driven by a villain named Lonnie Mixell who (too coincidentally) was the college buddy of Jake Harrison, a CIA paramilitary operations officer who has played the role of hero throughout this series. Mixell is a SEAL who went to prison and now has a grudge against the American government.

Using funding from al-Qaeda, Mixell bribes a Russian submarine captain to fire missiles at twenty American targets. The Russian captain accepts the bribe because his daughter has a disease that won’t respond to conventional treatment, although a very expensive treatment will save her life. That’s just a bit too convenient, but it sets the action in motion and maybe that’s all that matters. The Russian thinks he’s firing conventional missiles, not knowing that additional bribes have resulted in nuclear warheads being substituted for conventional warheads. As if that won’t cause enough mayhem, Mixell has an additional plan to cripple the American government that is revealed late in the novel.

Harrison has his work cut out for him, but much of the story takes place underwater. Early in the novel, an American submarine trails a Russian sub as it leaves port. Unaware that the Russian sub is commanded by a desperate man who plans to attack the US, the American commander thinks he’s on a routine mission.

After the mission takes an unfortunate turn, it’s up to a bunch of smart people with expensive technology to figure out where the Russian sub might be headed. Another American submarine sails into action, leading to the aforementioned submarine warfare. Campbell always combines technical precision with tactical savvy to create gripping scenes as submarine crews shoot and dodge torpedoes.

Some aspects of Deep Strike are bothersome. In the tradition of implausible thrillers, a villain captures a hero, wastes time explaining his plan to the hero, and then keeps the hero alive so that the hero can thwart the plan. Why doesn’t the villain just kill the hero before he carries out the plan? Because then the thriller wouldn’t have a happy ending.

A second plot thread involves Harrison’s partner, who seems to be a psychopath. Harrison is warned to keep an eye on her because her partners tend to die. Instead of reporting her behavior when she engages in unnecessary violence, or later when she ponders killing Harrison to prevent him from reporting what he saw, Harrison gives her a pass. I mean, team loyalty is one thing, but letting a crazed killer stay in her job without at least calling the boss’ attention to her professional inadequacies seems like piss poor job performance. The plot thread is an unnecessary distraction, particularly since another of Harrison’s partners also turns out to be less than ideal. How much bad partner drama does a thriller need?

The scenes leading up to and following the submarine warfare are standard thriller fare. They are executed with competence, but they aren’t fresh or exciting. Harrison’s non-relationship with CIA director Christine O’Connor, a character who played a central role in some earlier novels, gains no traction in this one. They both fret about what might have been but that’s old news, recycled from earlier novels. Neither of them has enough personality to make the reader care about their relationship. As far as I’m concerned, everything else in the book is ho-hum background to the real point of a Rick Campbell novel: submarines in action. But for me, and perhaps for other fans of submarine thrillers, that’s enough.

RECOMMENDED

Central Park by Guillaume Musso

First published in France in 2014; published in translation by Little, Brown and Company/Back Bay Books on March 16, 2021

Alice Schaefer is a 38-year-old police detective in Paris. Feeling sorry for herself, she goes out with the girls and gets toasted. The next thing she knows, she’s waking up in Central Park, handcuffed to a stranger. According to her watch, several hours have passed, but how could she have possibly made it to Central Park without being aware of passing through customs or immigration? She doesn’t have identification or money, but she does have blood on her blouse. The guy to whom she is handcuffed tells her that he was playing jazz in a bar in Dublin the night before and has no idea how he ended up in her company. The guy has something carved into his arm and Alice has some numbers written on her hand.

The idea behind Central Park — waking up in an unfamiliar place with no memory of arriving there — is a familiar basis for a thriller plot. To make a novel like this work, the author must create an original explanation for the gap in the protagonist’s memory. Then the author needs to sell the reader on the plausibility of that explanation. Guillaume Musso deserves credit for concocting an explanation I didn’t expect but fails to make the explanation remotely credible.

The story is entertaining if the reader doesn’t stop to think about it. Alice embarks on a series of adventures to (1) free herself from the handcuffs and (2) figure out why she was handcuffed to a guy in Central Park in the first place. She doesn’t go to the police because, being a cop, she believes that involving the police without knowing why she has blood on her blouse will only make her life worse. She eventually gets some investigative help from her best friend in Paris, Seymour Lombart, leading to predictable confusion about the identity of the jazz pianist to whom she is joined at the wrist. To add to the confusion, she finds a GPS tracker in her shoes. She also finds a small object implanted under her skin and does not understand how or when it got there. That’s a lot of unlikeliness for Musso to explain.

Alice’s backstory includes the usual tragic events that shape thriller heroes. She was estranged from her imprisoned father. She had a whirlwind romance with a man who died. She was tracking a killer named Erik Vaughn when she had an unexpected opportunity to arrest him. She took the initiative to make the arrest without calling for backup because that’s what thriller heroes do. Vaughn got the jump on her and stabbed her in the abdomen, changing her life in predictably tragic ways. Vaughn’s fate after that crime is uncertain, as it must be to make the plot work. Alice’s dismal life is supposed to earn the reader’s sympathy, but it features the same package of woes that are common to thriller characters. The package fails to generate real emotion, and the ending is such an obvious attempt to manipulate the reader’s emotions that I rejected it entirely.

Alice is remarkably slow-witted for a police detective, given her failure to ask a couple of obvious questions that would shed light on her situation. The story moves in unexpected directions but rarely follows a credible path. As the explanation of Alice’s plight slowly unfolds, my reaction was, “Really?” That’s not a positive reaction. The plot depends on a remarkable breach of professional ethics that, to avoid spoilers, I won’t explain. Suffice it to say that rational people don’t behave in the way that the book’s characters behave.

Suspension of disbelief is critical to a plot like this. My disbelief heightened with every new chapter. The story has the merit of being interesting — the plot kept me turning pages — but my disappointment at the reveal keeps me from giving Central Park an unqualified recommendation.

RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS