Rogue by Mark Sullivan

First published in 2011; published by Minotaur Books on October 2, 2012 

According to Jack Slattery, the CIA’s director of covert operations, the secret archives of Al-Qaeda can be found on a hard drive in an office building in Istanbul.  Slattery orders Robin Monarch to lead a team into the building to steal a copy of the archives.  Monarch has time to read a few of the archived files before bullets and explosions bring the mission to an unhappy conclusion.  What he sees convinces him to leave the Agency and begin a new life.  Shortly thereafter, an assassination attempt nearly brings that life to an end.

Eighteen months later, Monarch is in Switzerland bedding a woman named Lacey and pursuing a career as a security consultant -- with a lucrative side business that is rather unsavory, but perhaps less so than the job of a CIA operative.  I found the incongruity disturbing at first, but it made sense after Mark Sullivan reveals more about Monarch’s intriguing background -- and after learning what Monarch does with the wealth he acquires.

After Monarch unwittingly saves the life of a Russian gangster (and, of course, the Russian’s beautiful girlfriend), Monarch is back on Slattery’s radar.  The Russian wants Monarch to steal a weapon, and says he will hold Lacey hostage until he completes the mission.  Slattery’s interest in Monarch intertwines with the Russian’s, while a Chechen criminal who is competing with the Russian to obtain the weapon wants to use Monarch for his own ends.  Monarch, of course, is stuck in the middle, and spends most of the novel trying to get unstuck.

Rogue is an enjoyable second-tier spy thriller.  While the plot is fun, it doesn’t stand out.  Sullivan’s writing style is a notch above that found in most spy thrillers, but it isn’t top notch.  Rogue is memorable only  (if at all) for the character of Robin Monarch.  Given his history, Monarch is a more interesting character than the typical spy fiction action hero.  His team members on the other hand, like the other supporting characters, are given little definition.

Much of Rogue is familiar:  the numbered rules for survival (“Rule Five:  Fit in”); the wealthy gangster who made his fortune in the Russian Mafia; the supremely beautiful Russian girlfriend, an obligatory accessory for wealthy Russian mobsters; the protagonist’s uncontrollable desire for the mobster’s girlfriend; the highly placed CIA official who betrays his country.  Shoot-outs and chase scenes are standard, although I did enjoy learning about Rokon motorcycles.

Like most thrillers, Rogue has its weaknesses.  A scene in which Lacey learns some partial truths about Monarch is a bit melodramatic.  Monarch’s ability to reassemble his CIA team to perform an unsanctioned mission, given his earlier abandonment of them, struck me as improbable, but not so implausible as to destroy the novel’s credibility.  Monarch’s stamina, his ability to run and shoot after enduring starvation and torture, is impossible to believe, but normal enough for an action-driven thriller.  The ending, while satisfying, is a little too tidy (why, I wondered, would a politician believe a rogue agent’s wild story, supported only by video evidence that could easily have been faked?).

As a thriller should, Rogue moves quickly, and the pace accelerates as the novel progresses.  Action sequences are vivid.  The diverse international settings (Istanbul, St. Moritz, Buenos Aires, Budapest) are described in convincing detail.  Despite its flaws, Rogue worked well enough to whet my interest in the sequel promised by the novel’s last sentence.

RECOMMENDED

American Science Fiction: Four Classic Novels 1953-1956 by Gary K. Wolfe, ed.

Published by Library of America on September 27, 2012 

Having earned kudos from science fiction fans and mainstream critics for anthologizing Philip K. Dick's novels, Library of America has published a two volume anthology of science fiction novels from the 1950s, covering (arbitrarily, I think) the period 1953 to 1958. (It isn't clear to me why novels from 1950 to 1952 and from 1959 were excluded.) The two volumes collect nine novels. Gary Wolfe includes explanatory annotations at the end of each volume, but they will be of limited value to most readers -- this isn't Shakespeare, after all.

It's probably pointless to quarrel about whether other writers should have been recognized in an anthology of this nature. Reasonable arguments can be made for the inclusion of novels by Isaac Asimov and Clifford Simak, although both writers produced their best work before 1953 and after 1958. Philip K. Dick's strongest novels also appeared after the 1950s; besides, Library of America already anthologized his work. Ray Bradbury, on the other hand, published Fahrenheit 451 in 1953. Why it is not included is a mystery, unless Wolfe thought it was too well known to merit inclusion in an anthology that hopes to bring classic (but perhaps forgotten) works to the attention of a new audience.

In any event, I can't argue against the inclusion of any of the four novels that appear in the first volume (1953-1956). Three of the four are among my favorites of the 1950s and the other one has considerable merit.  Complete reviews of all four novels appear elsewhere on this blog; the brief reviews below are linked to those reviews.

The Space Merchants by Frederik Pohl and C.M. Kornbluth follows Mitchell Courtenay, an advertising executive who is placed in charge of a project to develop and exploit Venus, a task that requires the planet's colonization. Courtenay soon loses his privileged position and finds himself working with the laborers/consumers he has always treated as targets for his marketing campaigns. The novel lampoons politics, including the 1950s obsession with "Commies," as Courtenay is recruited by the "Consies" (activists for consumer's and worker's rights) he has always despised. The authors make deft use of humor to keep the story from becoming a heavy-handed polemic while making serious points about class divisions and the exploitation of the working poor. The Space Merchants is frequently surprising and always fun.

More Than Human by Theodore Sturgeon is a deeply philosophical novel that examines the nature of humanity. The novel concerns an evolved entity called Homo Gestalt, a group of empowered individuals (one can control minds, one is telekinetic, two can teleport, and one has the mental capacity of a supercomputer). As individuals, they are all but helpless; acting together, they are the next step in human evolution. Sturgeon explores the ethical questions that arise when a unique, superior being must interact with the lesser beings who share its planet. The characters are strong, the story is moving, the prose is stirring, and the message is inspirational. More Than Human is the best novel in this volume and one of the best science fiction novels of the 1950s.

The Shrinking Man by Richard Matheson tells the emotion-laden story of Scott Carey, a man who, through a freak (if not entirely believable) accident begins to shrink at the rate of one inch per week. While the story's action primarily involves Scott's efforts to avoid being eaten by a spider after he becomes trapped in his basement, the novel's strength lies in its psychological profile of a man who is losing everything he holds dear: his job, his family, his pride and self-respect. As he comes to feel more like a helpless child than a man, and then to feel like nothing at all, Scott must deal with the trauma of a vanishing life. Yet the story is ultimately about the triumph of the human spirit, a popular theme in 1950s science fiction, before postmodernism left readers drowning in gloom.

The Long Tomorrow by Leigh Brackett is good but, I think, not of the same caliber as the other three. In this post-apocalyptic story, Len Colter rejects the religious life of his parents and community, a rural life based on suppression of scientific knowledge in which cities have been outlawed (the better to avoid another apocalypse). Len begins a journey toward enlightenment that eventually leads him to Bartorstown, a place that, prior to the war, sheltered scientists dedicated to a secret project and that now stands as a hidden repository of scientific inquiry. The Long Tomorrow delivers a cautionary message about the evils of intolerance and thought-control and the value of independent thinking. The story seems dated (although the message is not) and Len's journey is underwhelming. Brackett's prose, while capable, is less shining than Sturgeon's or Matheson's. Although The Long Tomorrow isn't one of my favorite novels, it is an interesting read and an important early example of post-apocalyptic fiction.

Keep watching the Tzer Island book blog for reviews of the novels that appear in the second volume, covering 1956-1958.

RECOMMENDED

Swimming Home by Deborah Levy

Published by Bloomsbury USA on September 14, 2012 

"Life is only worth living because we hope it will get better and we'll all get home safely." So says Kitty Finch, the central character in Swimming Home, a powerful, offbeat novel that explores the impact an intruding outsider has on the relationships of two couples who are sharing a vacation home in the Alps-Maritimes. Whether any of the vacationers will get home safely becomes the novel's burning question.

Philandering London poet Joe Jacobs (formally known as Jozef Nowogrodski), together with his wife Isabel (a war correspondent) and daughter Nina, are spending the summer of 1994 with Laura and Mitchell, the owners of a failing shop in Euston. The friends are enjoying the sun when they see a naked woman floating in the pool. The swimmer, Kitty French, isn't exactly stalking Joe Jacobs, but it's no coincidence that she's appeared at the villa. Isabel soon asks Kitty to stay on as a guest, a decision that surprises everyone else. Also vexed by Kitty's arrival is a neighbor, Dr. Madeleine Sheridan, who has an unhappy history with Kitty. Madeleine believes "human beings had to suffer real hardships before agreeing to lose their minds" and can find no excuse for Kitty's aberrant behavior.

Kitty clearly has mental health issues. She spends much of her time naked, she's off her antidepressants, and she was once institutionalized and subjected to shock treatments. Kitty seems determined to have Joe read a poem she has written ("Swimming Home"), which she describes as a conversation with Joe and no one else. Believing she has a psychic connection with Joe (she calls it a "nerve contact"), she wants to save Joe from his thoughts, while Joe wants to save himself from Kitty's poetry (and from her depression because, according to Joe, poems written by the depressed always constitute a threat). The text of Kitty's poem is not shared with the reader but its key content is revealed after Nina (perhaps the most well-adjusted of the book's characters) sneaks a peek at it.

Puzzling out the intriguing relationships between the characters is both difficult and rewarding. Why does Isabel (as Madeleine observes) all but push Kitty into Joe's arms? Why is Joe so hesitant to discuss Kitty's poem with her? Why does Madeleine need to be needed by Isabel? Why does Isabel stay with Joe? How does Joe really feel about Kitty? Can Kitty save Joe from his thoughts? Why is Nina so disturbed by what she sees under Joe's bed? Sometimes Deborah Levy answers the questions, sometimes she offers hints, sometimes she leaves the reader to speculate. Yet Levy plays fair; this is a tightly woven novel, not a collection of loose threads. With a bit of thought, every question can be answered to the reader's satisfaction.

Laura and Mitchell turn out to be minor characters but Kitty, Joe, Isabel, and Nina are developed in rich detail. Despite the novel's brevity, we come to know other minor characters well (including cantankerous Madeleine and a character we never meet, the owner of the vacation home).

Although the story's harshness is softened with moments of wit and quirky humor, readers who search for likable characters and happy endings will want to bypass Swimming Home. The characters are coping (or not) with pain in ways that make them disagreeably self-absorbed. Many readers will nonetheless find, as I did, that the intensity of the characters' interactions, the lyricism of the prose, and the profound questions that Levy explores make Swimming Home a captivating read.

RECOMMENDED

Your House Is on Fire, Your Children All Gone by Stefan Kiesbye

Published by Penguin Books on September 25, 2012 

Your House Is on Fire, Your Children All Gone has the flavor of a horror story, complete with the spectral creatures and gruesome events that fuel legends of the supernatural.  Yet the most compelling horror is grounded in truth rather than legend.  Stefan Kiesbye’s novel addresses the horror of spite and malice, of mob violence, of child abuse and incest, of missing children, of kids being cruel for the sake of cruelty, of friends who betray each other for selfish ends, of homeless children who die in the cold for lack of charity.  Who needs witches and werewolves when the world is filled with terrors like these?

The novel consists of a series of connected stories.  It begins with the sparsely attended funeral of Anke, the final occupant of the von Kamphoff manor in the Village of Hemmersmoor.  A widower named Christian Bobinski sets the stage with his description of Anke’s funeral.  The stories that follow are told from the perspectives of individuals who, like Christian and Anke, lived in Hemmersmoor during their childhood and adolescence.  Their stories are set in a time when concentration camps had only recently closed, when Germany was newly divided by a wall.

Ghost stories and tales of the supernatural abound in Hemmersmoor.  Horrible events have plagued the superstitious village residents -- or so the stories go -- from the heir to the von Kamphoff manor who mysteriously vanished (and is said to be wandering the manor’s hedge maze) to the miller who sold his soul to the devil after Swedish troops tortured and killed his family during the Thirty Years’ War.  Do spirits and witches really roam the village?  Is the village cursed?  Or are the gossipy, mean-spirited villagers reaping exactly what they have sown? 

Some of Hemmersmoor’s young residents are clearly disturbed, including the boy who kills his sister and the kids who dare another to jump into a hole they have cut in the frozen river.  Some are simply bewildered by the demands of dawning adulthood or by their parents’ repulsive behavior.  No matter how gruesome the stories become, it is easy to understand why these kids commit the awful acts that they confess:  they are the products of their warped environment, of people who are determined to forget their nation’s sins and to conceal their own.  Just like their parents, their lives will be dedicated to forgetting and denying.

Kiesbye’s sentences are crafted with elegant care; his prose lends power to the stories.  The characters are lively.  The story falters when it comes too close to the supernatural -- the horror of reality gives the novel a strength that is sapped by ghost stories.  Many of the living characters are virtual ghouls, the walking dead; nothing is gained by adding (for instance) the man who haunts the hedge maze.  Fortunately, those moments are infrequent.  While some are better than others, the tales of Hemmersmoor’s children are both horrendous and touching.  Given the fractured nature of the narrative, the stories cohere into a whole surprisingly well, bookended by Christian’s memories as he returns to the Hemmersmoor of his youth.  They add up to a masterful work of psychological horror.

RECOMMENDED

The Space Merchants by Frederik Pohl and C.M. Kornbluth

First published in 1953

With good reason, The Space Merchants is one of the classic science fiction novels of the 1950s: it is fun and prophetic, and it conveys a message that remains timely. What Gordon Gekko did with "Greed is good," Fred Pohl and C.M. Kornbluth did with "Power ennobles. Absolute power ennobles absolutely." In a story that is at once witty and scathing, Pohl and Kornbluth smack down the aristocratic pretensions of the business elite, the leaders of industry who comprise the de facto ruling class.

The protagonist, Mitchell Courtenay, an advertising executive with Fowler Schocken, is proud of his ability to redirect talent, turning poets into copywriters, musicians into jingle writers, all to further humanity's highest ideal: increased sales. He's even more proud of his ability to convince consumers that they need products they don't really want. Courtenay sits near the top of the economic ladder, marketing questionable products to those at the bottom who produce and consume them.

As the novel opens, Courtenay is surprised to learn that he has been placed in charge of the Venus Section. The government has given Fowler Schocken an exclusive contract to develop and exploit Venus, a task that requires the planet to be colonized. Before Courtenay has a chance to learn whether his newfound power is ennobling, someone takes it away. Courtenay is compelled by unexpected circumstances to work alongside the consumers.

Courtenay's fall brings him into contact with a group he has always despised: consumer activists, referred to derisively as "Consies." Given the novel's time frame, the similarities between the words "Consies" and "Commies" -- the favored demon of the 1950s -- can hardly be coincidental. The similarity does not end with the name: Consies, like communists, believe that workers should have a greater share of the wealth that their labor creates. Forced to share their pain, will Courtenay gain empathy for their plight, or will he imagine new strategies for marketing products to them?

In the political context of the early Eisenhower years, The Space Merchants' depiction of capitalism run amuck almost seems subversive. The exploitation of labor by capital and the strife inherent in class division is a central theme. Yet the story is more satire than polemic. Much of the novel has a tongue-in-cheek quality, as is evident when Courtenay must tunnel through a vast growth of chicken meat to attend a Consie meeting. Outright humor ranges from hilarious advertising jingles to lines like "I dreamed I was ice-fishing in my Maidenform bra" (the latter appears in a museum exhibit).

One reason to read science fiction of the 1950s is that writers were committed to the craft of storytelling. While modern sf authors too often indulge in lengthy explanations of every idea they can concoct, Pohl and Kornbluth toss off two or three ideas on a page, letting the accumulation of ideas build the story's context. The Space Merchants is filled with nifty ideas: government sanctioned "industrial feuds" that occasionally include assassinations; congressmen elected by businesses rather than individuals; religion as an advertising account; individual steps in stairwells rented to the homeless. Pohl and Kornbluth accurately predicted the clash between industrial development and conservationist philosophy (including environmental activism), the economic difficulties brought on by diminishing oil supplies, and reliance on subliminal advertising and addictive chemicals to increase demand for products.

An engaging plot and believable characters are the twin ingredients of successful sf storytelling. The Space Merchants delivers on both fronts. The story is full of surprises. There are so many clever twists that the reader, never sure where the story is headed, knows only that he is taking a joyful journey. The characters tend to be stereotypes, but they're fun stereotypes. In fact, I've used the word "fun" repeatedly in this review because it's the word that best summarizes my reaction to The Space Merchants. It's the kind of romp that is too rare in modern science fiction.

RECOMMENDED