Review: Deep Black, by Miles Cameron

Deep Black is a far-future science fiction novel and the direct sequel to Artifact Space. You do not want to start here. I regretted not reading the novels closer together and had to refresh my memory of what happened in the first book.

The shorter fiction in Beyond the Fringe takes place between the two series novels and leads into some of the events in this book, although reading it is optional.

Artifact Space left Marca Nbaro at the farthest point of the voyage of the Greatship Athens, an unexpected heroine and now well-integrated into the crew. On a merchant ship, however, there's always more work to be done after a heroic performance. Deep Black opens with that work: repairs from the events of the first book, the never-ending litany of tasks required to keep the ship running smoothly, and of course the trade with aliens that drew them so far out into the Deep Black.

We knew early in the first book that this wouldn't be the simple, if long, trading voyage that most of the crew of the Athens was expecting, but now they have to worry about an unsettling second group of aliens on top of a potential major war between human factions. They don't yet have the cargo they came for, they have to reconstruct their trading post, and they're a very long way from home. Marca also knows, at this point in the story, that this voyage had additional goals from the start. She will slowly gain a more complete picture of those goals during this novel.

Artifact Space was built around one of the most satisfying plots in military science fiction (at least to me): a protagonist who benefits immensely from the leveling effect and institutional inclusiveness of the military slowly discovering that, when working at its best, the military can be a true meritocracy. (The merchant marine of the Athens is not military, precisely, since it's modeled on the trading ships of Venice, but it's close enough for the purposes of this plot.) That's not a plot that lasts into a sequel, though, so Cameron had to find a new spine for the second half of the story. He chose first contact (of a sort) and space battle.

The space battle parts are fine. I read a ton of children's World War II military fiction when I was a boy, and I always preferred the naval battles to the land battles. This part of Deep Black reminded me of those naval battles, particularly a book whose title escapes me about the Arctic convoys to the Soviet Union. I'm more interested in character than military adventure these days, but every once in a while I enjoy reading about a good space battle. This was not an exemplary specimen of the genre, but it delivered on all the required elements.

The first contact part was more original, in part because Cameron chose an interesting medium ground between total incomprehensibility and universal translators. He stuck with the frustrations of communication for considerably longer than most SF authors are willing to write, and it worked for me. This is the first book I've read in a while where superficial alien fluency with the mere words of a human language masks continuing profound mutual incomprehension. The communication difficulties are neither malicious nor a setup for catastrophic misunderstanding, but an intrinsic part of learning about a truly alien species. I liked this, even though it makes for slower and more frustrating progress. It felt more believable than a lot of first contact, and it forced the characters to take risks and act on hunches and then live with the consequences.

One of the other things that Cameron does well is maintain the steady rhythm of life on a working ship as a background anchor to the story. I've read a lot of science fiction that shows the day-to-day routine only until something more interesting and plot-focused starts happening and then seems to forget about it entirely. Not here. Marca goes through intense and adrenaline-filled moments requiring risk and fast reactions, and then has to handle promotion write-ups, routine watches, and studying for advancement. Cameron knows that real battles involve long periods of stressful waiting and incorporates them into the book without making them too boring, which requires a lot of writing skill.

I prefer the emotional magic of finding a place where one belongs, so I was not as taken with Deep Black as I was with Artifact Space, but that's the inevitable result of plot progression and not really a problem with this book. Marca is absurdly central to the story in ways that have a whiff of "chosen one" dynamics, but if one can suspend one's disbelief about that, the rest of the book is solid. This is, fundamentally, a book about large space battles, so save it when you're in the mood for that sort of story, but it was a satisfying continuation of the series. I will definitely keep reading.

Recommended if you enjoyed Artifact Space. If you didn't, Deep Black isn't going to change your mind.

Followed by Whalesong, which is not yet released (and is currently in some sort of limbo for pre-orders in the US, which I hope will clear up).

Rating: 7 out of 10

Review: Echoes of the Imperium, by Nicholas & Olivia Atwater

Echoes of the Imperium is a steampunk fantasy adventure novel, the first of a projected series. There is another novella in the series, A Matter of Execution, that takes place chronologically before this novel, but which I am told that you should read afterwards. (I have not yet read it.) If Olivia Atwater's name sounds familiar, it's probably for the romantic fantasy Half a Soul. Nicholas Atwater is her husband.

William Blair, a goblin, was a child sailor on the airship HMS Caliban during the final battle that ended the Imperium, and an eyewitness to the destruction of the capital. Like every imperial solider, that loss made him an Oathbreaker; the fae Oath that he swore to defend the Imperium did not care that nothing a twelve-year-old boy could have done would have changed the result of the battle. He failed to kill himself with most of the rest of the crew, and thus was taken captive by the Coalition.

Twenty years later, William Blair is the goblin captain of the airship Iron Rose. It's an independent transport ship that takes various somewhat-dodgy contracts and has to avoid or fight through pirates. The crew comes from both sides of the war and has built their own working truce. Blair himself is a somewhat manic but earnest captain who doesn't entirely believe he deserves that role, one who tends more towards wildly risky plans and improvisation than considered and sober decisions. The rest of the crew are the sort of wild mix of larger-than-life personality quirks that populate swashbuckling adventure books but leave me dubious that stuffing that many high-maintenance people into one ship would go as well as it does.

I did appreciate the gunnery knitting circle, though.

Echoes of the Imperium is told in the first person from Blair's perspective in two timelines. One follows Blair in the immediate aftermath of the war, tracing his path to becoming an airship captain and meeting some of the people who will later be part of his crew. The other is the current timeline, in which Blair gets deeper and deeper into danger by accepting a risky contract with unexpected complications.

Neither of these timelines are in any great hurry to arrive at some destination, and that's the largest problem with this book. Echoes of the Imperium is long, sprawling, and unwilling to get anywhere near any sort of a point until the reader is deeply familiar with the horrific aftermath of the war, the mountains guilt and trauma many of the characters carry around, and Blair's impostor syndrome and feelings of inadequacy. For the first half of this book, I was so bored. I almost bailed out; only a few flashes of interesting character interactions and hints of world-building helped me drag myself through all of the tedious setup.

What saves this book is that the world-building is a delight. Once the characters finally started engaging with it in earnest, I could not put it down. Present-time Blair is no longer an Oathbreaker because he was forgiven by a fairy; this will become important later. The sites of great battles are haunted by ghostly echoes of the last moments of the lives of those who died (hence the title); this will become very important later. Blair has a policy of asking no questions about people's pasts if they're willing to commit to working with the rest of the crew; this, also, will become important later. All of these tidbits the authors drop into the story and then ignore for hundreds of pages do have a payoff if you're willing to wait for it.

As the reader (too) slowly discovers, the Atwaters' world is set in a war of containment by light fae against dark fae. Instead of being inscrutable and separate, the fae use humans and human empires as tools in that war. The fallen Imperium was a bastion of fae defense, and the war that led to the fall of that Imperium was triggered by the price its citizens paid for that defense, one that the fae could not possibly care less about. The creatures may be out of epic fantasy and the technology from the imagined future of Victorian steampunk, but the politics are that of the Cold War and containment strategies. This book has a lot to say about colonialism and empire, but it says those things subtly and from a fantasy slant, in a world with magical Oaths and direct contact with powers that are both far beyond the capabilities of the main characters and woefully deficient in in humanity and empathy. It has a bit of the feel of Greek mythology if the gods believed in an icy realpolitik rather than embodying the excesses of human emotion.

The second half of this book was fantastic. The found-family vibe among a crew of high-maintenance misfits that completely failed to cohere for me in the first half of the book, while Blair was wallowing in his feelings and none of the events seemed to matter, came together brilliantly as soon as the crew had a real problem and some meaty world-building and plot to sink their teeth into. There is a delightfully competent teenager, some satisfying competence porn that Blair finally stops undermining, and a sharp political conflict that felt emotionally satisfying, if perhaps not that intellectually profound. In short, it turns into the fun, adventurous romp of larger-than-life characters that the setting promises. Even the somewhat predictable mid-book reveal worked for me, in part because the emotions of the characters around that reveal sold its impact.

If you're going to write a book with a bad half and a good half, it's always better to put the good half second. I came away with very positive feelings about Echoes of the Imperium and a tentative willingness to watch for the sequel. (It reaches a fairly satisfying conclusion, but there are a lot of unresolved plot hooks.) I'm a bit hesitant to recommend it, though, because the first half was not very fun. I want to say that about 75% of the first half of the book could have been cut and the book would have been stronger for it. I'm not completely sure I'm right, since the Atwaters were laying the groundwork for a lot of payoff, but I wish that groundwork hadn't been as much of a slog.

Tentatively recommended, particularly if you're in the mood for steampunk fae mythology, but know that this book requires some investment.

Technically, A Matter of Execution comes first, but I plan to read it as a sequel.

Rating: 8 out of 10

Review: Regenesis, by C.J. Cherryh

The main text below is an edited version of my original review of Regensis written on 2012-12-21. Additional comments from my re-read are after the original review.

Regenesis is a direct sequel to Cyteen, picking up very shortly after the end of that book and featuring all of the same characters. It would be absolutely pointless to read this book without first reading Cyteen; all of the emotional resonance and world-building that make Regensis work are done there, and you will almost certainly know whether you want to read it after reading the first book. Besides, Cyteen is one of the best SF novels ever written and not the novel to skip.

Because this is such a direct sequel, it's impossible to provide a good description of Regenesis without spoiling at least characters and general plot developments from Cyteen. So stop reading here if you've not yet read the previous book.

I've had this book for a while, and re-read Cyteen in anticipation of reading it, but I've been nervous about it. One of the best parts of Cyteen is that Cherryh didn't belabor the ending, and I wasn't sure what part of the plot could be reasonably extended. Making me more nervous was the back-cover text that framed the novel as an investigation of who actually killed the first Ari, a question that was fairly firmly in the past by the end of Cyteen and that neither I nor the characters had much interest in answering. Cyteen was also a magical blend of sympathetic characters, taut tension, complex plotting, and wonderful catharsis, the sort of lightning in a bottle that can rarely be caught twice.

I need not have worried. If someone had told me that Regenesis was another 700 pages of my favorite section of Cyteen, I would have been dubious. But that's exactly what it is. And the characters only care about Ari's murderer because it comes up, fairly late in the novel, as a clue in another problem.

Ari and Justin are back in the safe laboratory environment of Reseune, safe now that politics are not trying to kill or control them. Yanni has taken over administration. There is a general truce, and even some deeper agreement. Everyone can take a breath and relax, albeit with the presence of Justin's father Jordan as an ongoing irritant. But broader Union politics are not stable: there is an election in progress for the Defense councilor that may break the tenuous majority in favor of Reseune and the Science Directorate, and Yanni is working out a compromise to gain more support by turning a terraforming project loose on a remote world. As the election and the politics heat up, interpersonal relationships abruptly deteriorate, tensions with Jordan sharply worsen, and there may be moles in Reseune's iron-clad security. Navigating the crisis while keeping her chosen family safe will once again tax all of Ari's abilities.

The third section of Cyteen, where Ari finally has the tools to take fate into her own hands and starts playing everyone off against each other, is one of my favorite sections of any book. If it was yours as well, Regenesis is another 700 pages of exactly that. As an extension and revisiting, it does lose a bit of immediacy and surprise from the original. Regenesis is also less concerned with the larger questions of azi society, the nature of thought and personality, loyalty and authority, and the best model for the development of human civilization. It's more of a political thriller. But it's a political thriller that recaptures much of the drama and tension of Cyteen and is full of exceptionally smart and paranoid people thinking through all angles of a problem, working fast on their feet, and successfully navigating tricky and treacherous political landscapes.

And, like Cyteen but unlike others of Cherryh's novels I've read, it's a novel about empowerment, about seizing control of one's surroundings and effectively using all of the capability and leverage at one's fingertips. That gives it a catharsis that's almost as good as Cyteen.

It's also, like its predecessor, a surprisingly authoritarian novel. I think it's in that, more than anything else in these books, that one sees the impact of the azi. Regenesis makes it clear that the story is set, not in a typical society, but inside a sort of corporation, with an essentially hierarchical governance structure. There are other SF novels set within corporations (Solitaire comes to mind), but normally they follow peons or at best mid-level personnel or field agents, or otherwise take the viewpoint of the employees or the exploited. When they follow the corporate leaders, the focus usually isn't down inside the organization, but out into the world, with the corporation as silent resources on which the protagonist can draw.

Regenesis is instead about the leadership. It's about decisions about the future of humanity that characters feel they can make undemocratically (in part because they or their predecessors have effectively engineered the opinions of the democratic population), but it's also about how one manages and secures a top-down organization. Reseune is, as in the previous novel, a paranoid's suspicions come true; everyone is out to get everyone else, or at least might be, and the level of omnipresent security and threat forces a close parsing of alliances and motivations that elevates loyalty to the greatest virtue.

In Cyteen, we had long enough with Ari to see the basic shape of her personality and her slight divergences from her predecessor, but her actions are mostly driven by necessity. Regenesis gives us more of a picture of what she's like when her actions aren't forced, and here I think Cherryh manages a masterpiece of subtle characterization. Ari has diverged substantially from her predecessor without always realizing, and those divergences are firmly grounded in the differences she found or created between her life and the first Ari's. She has friends, confidents, and a community, which combined with past trauma has made her fiercely, powerfully protective. It's that protective instinct that weaves the plot together. So many of the events of Cyteen and Regenesis are driven by people's varying reactions to trauma.

If you, like me, loved the last third of Cyteen, read this, because Regenesis is more of exactly that. Cherryh finds new politics, new challenges, and a new and original plot within the same world and with the same characters, but it has the same feel of maneuvering, analysis, and decisive action. You will, as with Cyteen have to be comfortable with pages of internal monologue from people thinking through all sides of a problem. If you didn't like that in the previous book, avoid this one; if you loved it, here's the sequel you didn't know you were waiting for.

Original rating: 9 out of 10

Some additional thoughts after re-reading Regenesis in 2025:

Cyteen mostly held up to a re-reading and I had fond memories of Regenesis and hoped that it would as well. Unfortunately, it did not. I think I can see the shape of what I enjoyed the first time I read it, but I apparently was in precisely the right mood for this specific type of political power fantasy.

I did at least say that you have to be comfortable with pages of internal monologue, but on re-reading, there was considerably more of that than I remembered and it was quite repetitive. Ari spends most of the book chasing her tail, going over and around and beside the same theories that she'd already considered and worrying over the nuances of every position. The last time around, I clearly enjoyed that; this time, I found it exhausting and not very well-written. The political maneuvering is not that deep; Ari just shows every minutia of her analysis.

Regenesis also has more about the big questions of how to design a society and the role of the azi than I had remembered, but I'm not sure those discussions reach any satisfying conclusions. The book puts a great deal of effort into trying to convince the reader that Ari is capable of designing sociological structures that will shape Union society for generations to come through, mostly, manipulation of azi programming (deep sets is the term used in the book). I didn't find this entirely convincing the first time around, and I was even less convinced in this re-read. Human societies are a wicked problem, and I don't find Cherryh's computer projections any more convincing than Asimov's psychohistory.

Related, I am surprised, in retrospect, that the authoritarian underpinnings of this book didn't bother me more on my first read. They were blatantly obvious on the second read. This felt like something Cherryh put into these books intentionally, and I think it's left intentionally ambiguous whether the reader is supposed to agree with Ari's goals and decisions, but I was much less in the mood on this re-read to read about Ari making blatantly authoritarian decisions about the future of society simply because she's smart and thinks she, unlike others, is acting ethically. I say this even though I like Ari and mostly enjoyed spending time in her head. But there is a deep fantasy of being able to reprogram society at play here that looks a lot nastier from the perspective of 2025 than apparently it did to me in 2012.

Florian and Catlin are still my favorite characters in the series, though. I find it oddly satisfying to read about truly competent bodyguards, although like all of the azi they sit in an (I think intentionally) disturbing space of ambiguity between androids and human slaves.

The somewhat too frank sexuality from Cyteen is still present in Regenesis, but I found it a bit less off-putting, mostly because everyone is older. The authoritarian bent is stronger, since Regenesis is the story of Ari consolidating power rather than the underdog power struggle of Cyteen, and I had less tolerance for it on this re-read.

The main problem with this book on re-read was that I bogged down about halfway through and found excuses to do other things rather than finish it. On the first read, I was apparently in precisely the right mood to read about Ari building a fortified home for all of her friends; this time, it felt like endless logistics and musings on interior decorating that didn't advance the plot. Similarly, Justin and Grant's slow absorption into Ari's orbit felt like a satisfying slow burn friendship in my previous reading and this time felt touchy and repetitive.

I was one of the few avid defenders of Regenesis the first time I read it, and sadly I've joined the general reaction on a re-read: This is not a very good book. It's too long, chases its own tail a bit too much, introduces a lot more authoritarianism and doesn't question it as directly as I wanted, and gets even deeper into Cherryh's invented pseudo-psychology than Cyteen. I have a high tolerance for the endless discussions of azi deep sets and human flux thinking, and even I got bored this time through.

On re-read, this book was nowhere near as good as I thought it was originally, and I would only recommend it to people who loved Cyteen and who really wanted a continuation of Ari's story, even if it is flabby and not as well-written. I have normally been keeping the rating of my first read of books, but I went back and lowered this one by two points to ensure it didn't show as high on my list of recommendations.

Re-read rating: 6 out of 10