The Gentle Giants of Ganymede by James P. Hogan

First published in 1978

The Gentle Giants of Ganymede is the second in a series of related novels that began with Inherit the Stars. It isn't necessary to read the first novel to understand the second, but doing so would give the reader a fuller appreciation of the characters and setting in the second novel. The plots of the two novels, however, are only loosely connected; it would be easy to follow the story in Gentle Giants without reading Inherit the Stars. If you haven't read Inherit the Stars, however, I would recommend doing so. It is a better novel than Gentle Giants.

The "Gentle Giants" to which the title refers appear in Inherit the Stars only as a long dead (or at least long absent) race that once lived on a planet in our solar system (Minerva) that was destroyed in the distant past (the mystery surrounding Minerva's destruction is the force driving Inherit the Stars). A starship of the long-lost Giants returns to the solar system after an extended journey ... one that would take 25 million years if the effects of relativity were ignored. The Giants woefully discover that Minerva is gone and make reluctant contact with the new kids in the solar system: a species known as humans.

The first half of the novel generates some energy despite its tendency to turn into a series of science lectures, primarily focused on how the Giants manage to control gravity. An unfortunate tendency of some "hard" sf authors is to elevate Great Ideas above story or character development, and James Hogan succumbed to that temptation in this novel -- much more than he did in Inherit the Stars. The novel's second half, after First Contact is made, tends to fizzle out altogether. The story leads up to a plot twist that is probably supposed to leave the reader gasping with surprise, but it's not all that surprising and ultimately amounts to just another Great Idea. There is little human (or alien) drama in the story; it's interesting, in its own way, but not captivating.

Inherit the Stars maintained a strong sense of mystery that is absent from the sequel. While the two main characters from Inherit the Stars return in Giants, they play a relatively small role. A computer called ZORAC, responsible for translating communications between humans and the Giants, has more personality than any of the human characters. The Giants are more intriguing (they abhor conflict and value cooperation) but by the novel's second half, they are relegated to the status of tourists -- and who really wants to read about tourists? Ultimately, although the novel has its moments, it doesn't have enough of them to sustain a sense of wonder. Diehard fans of hard sf might enjoy it -- it isn't by any means a bad novel -- but it just isn't in the same league as Inherit the Stars.

RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS

Inherit the Stars by James P. Hogan

First published in 1977

In the prologue to Inherit the Stars, two individuals (one in a red spacesuit, one in blue) are making a long journey on foot across desolate land. The one in red is exhausted. The one in blue has greater stamina; he helps the other along but finally leaves him in a cave, promising to return with help. The rest of the novel takes place fifty thousand years later. A body, clad in a red spacesuit, is found in a cave on the moon. A team of scientists is convened to investigate the body's origin (it appears to be human, with all the attributes of a life form that evolved on Earth), as well as the equipment and writings found on or alongside the body. The investigation expands as more specialists, from physicists to biologists to linguists, join the effort. Adding to the puzzle is the discovery of a spaceship buried on Ganymede twenty five million years earlier -- and a much larger body of much different physiology. Victor Hunt is brought in as a generalist to facilitate communication among the specialists and to synthesize the results. The novel follows Hunt in his quest to solve the mystery.

A common failing of "hard" science fiction is the tendency to emphasize the science while shortchanging the fiction. In other words, the writer waxes poetic about his ideas while neglecting character development, dramatic tension, and the other requirements of well-written fiction. Inherit the Stars contains a better balance of science and fiction than many hard sf novels, although the science clearly dominates the fiction. Only two characters have any personality at all: Hunt, about whom we know almost nothing meaningful until late in the novel, when we begin to learn what the man is all about; and a biologist named Danchekker, who fits the stereotype of a gruff, arrogant curmudgeon. The plot can be summarized as "scientists at work," and it's intellectually interesting but lacking in emotional resonance. Fans of action-oriented fiction probably won't find much to admire in Inherit the Stars after the prologue ends.

Inherit the Stars (the first of a series of related novels) is nonetheless a well-written sf mystery that grabs hold of big ideas and pieces them together to solve a fascinating puzzle. It avoids another common failing of hard sf: descriptions of science that are incomprehensible to a lay reader. Hogan clearly explains the science he invokes and makes the application of the scientific process understandable. While I might have hoped for more human drama -- some acknowledgment that hundreds of people working together for years on Earth and for months on a ship traveling to Ganymede might form positive or negative relationships -- the intellectual drama in Inherit the Stars is nearly strong enough to compensate for the absence of its human counterpart. Inherit the Stars is a novel that most sf fans should enjoy.

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Even the Dogs by Jon McGregor

Published by Bloomsbury on February 16, 2010

The police discover Robert's decaying body on the floor of his flat. Robert's friends have been dropping by for a week, leaving after banging on the unanswered door. Robert's friend Danny finally breaks in and discovers the corpse before fleeing in a panic. Danny searches for someone to tell -- Robert's daughter Laura or his friend Mike -- but gives a greater priority to scoring drugs. As the novel progresses we meet other people in Robert's world and learn about his past. We also hear about the wartime experiences of two characters, one of whom became addicted after losing a leg. The novel ends with a coroner's inquest into the cause of Robert's death.

Even the Dogs is a story of wasted lives, of lives spent waiting: for drugs, for government checks, for the soup van, for group therapy to be over, for death. Most of the first part of the novel is told from Danny's point of view. The remainder is narrated by Robert's friends: unseen, ghostlike observers of his death's aftermath. Other than Robert, who drinks heavily but doesn't take drugs, the characters tend to blend together: each is driven by the same desire to get high, each is mired in a dreary existence.

The novel's narrative style is fractured, as are the characters. When Danny is narrating, paragraphs typically end with unfinished sentences. Yet portions of this novel are written in achingly beautiful prose. For that, I recommend the novel, but I can't say that it was a complete pleasure to read. It's important for novels like this to be written, to reflect the dark and dismal realities of life, but dismal reading isn't fun reading. If you're looking for a story of redemption or personal growth, you won't find it here. If you don't want to be depressed by your reading, find a different book. Even the Dogs is a well-written chronicle of hopelessness, but it's a story that has been told many times before. This snapshot of life's forgotten, invisible people is better than most, but for all the power of McGregor's writing, I found myself reading it in small doses and was glad when it came to an end.

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Dog War by Anthony C. Winkler

Published by Akashic Books on June 1, 2007,  first published in the UK by Macmillan Carribbean in 2006.

Precious is 47 years old, content with her life in Runaway Bay and with her marriage to Theophilus. As a dutiful wife, however, she agrees to move to the country so that Theophilus can enjoy a view of the mountains. When Theophilus dies in a traffic accident, Precious must begin her life anew, and she doesn't want to live it in her country home where (despite the company of Red Dog and White Dog) she feels isolated, convinced that rapists and murderers will attack her at night (and worried that her corpse won't be dressed properly when it's eventually discovered). Dog War follows Precious as she tries living in Kingston with her son the dentist (where she is at war with her daughter-in-law) and in Miami with her daughter the cop (where she must fend off the unwelcome attention of her son-in-law) before taking a housekeeping position in Fort Lauderdale. There Precious must cope with a wealthy widow who takes a greater interest in the rights of animals than the needs of people, with the widow's spoiled, amorous dog, and with a chauffeur who is convinced that he is repaying a debt for camels he stole in a life he lived seven hundred years earlier. Despite clinging to her beliefs (reinforced by her consultations with Jamaican Jesus underneath her bed), Precious manages to learn some difficult but valuable lessons about life by the time the novel ends.

Dog War is a very funny book. Nearly every page made me laugh out loud; on some pages nearly every paragraph made me laugh out loud. The characters are charming; to the extent that they are stereotypes, Anthony Winkler somehow found a way to make them fresh. The story is sweet and the lessons it teaches are familiar but nonetheless valuable. The pace is quick and the novel is the perfect length; it tells a fun story without trying to do too much. There isn't anything terribly profound about Dog War, but the novel is meant to make you smile and to nod at its conventional wisdom, not to change your life. On that basis, it succeeds admirably.

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The Hunter by Asa Nonami

 First published in Japan in 1996.  This review is of the English translation by Juliet Winters Carpenter published by Kodansha International in 2006.

 Takako Otomichi is a female cop in a man's Japan. When a murder victim dies in a fire started by an incendiary device hidden in his belt, Takako is among the detectives assigned to the case. She's partnered with a male detective sergeant who views her as an ornament. The investigation seems to be running out of steam when a second gruesome death occurs, this one apparently caused by a wild dog or a domesticated wolf. The relationship between the killings is the mystery that occupies Takako professionally. Divorced and living alone until her annoying sister shows up, Takako's personal life frustrates her as much as her job.

Takako's perseverance makes her a sympathetic character, but she is also easy to like: she's smart, she's tenacious, and she has a biting sense of humor (although, for the most part, she keeps her sarcasm to herself). She thinks of her partner as "the emperor penguin." Her partner fits the stereotype of the career cop who has sacrificed his family to his job, who drinks too much and doesn't trust women. Although most of the story is presented from Takako's point of view, we sometimes see the novel's events through her male partner's eyes. The differing perspectives offer insight into the failure of the partners to communicate -- the two characters make assumptions about each other that, left unspoken, make it impossible for them to work as a team.

The subordinate role of women in Japanese society is a recurring theme in Japanese crime fiction (it appears in Out and The Cage among other novels); in The Hunter, Takako does her best to ignore the persistent sexism she encounters, even when it hobbles her investigation. She also tries to ignore her domineering mother and hapless sister, but doing so only adds to her stress. She feels best about herself when she's riding her motorcycle. Her connection to the mysterious animal she ends up tracking (as well as her love of riding) suggests her desire for freedom, a desire that is only a dream given the relentless demands of her job and family.

Readers looking for a strong female character should enjoy The Hunter. The novel isn't a whodunit -- there isn't much in the way of clues for the reader to piece together -- but the story moves quickly and in unexpected directions. The connection between the crimes is a bit farfetched, but that's common enough in thrillers. It's interesting to compare issues of gender equality across cultural lines, but it's even more interesting to read about Takako battling the kind of personal demons that afflict people in every culture. The prose in The Hunter flows more naturally than it does in some other novels translated from Japanese that I've read. For its intriguing central character and enjoyable story, I recommend The Hunter to fans of thrillers, police procedurals, and Japanese fiction.

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