Time Salvager - Wesley Chu

Time Salvager is a blend of sci-fi and thriller. It’s accessible, raises clever questions, wraps them through interesting characters…and then sets off an explosion. It has a lot of the DNA of the action movie running through it, but also some interesting contemplation on the goals of humanity, and the ways and means of achieving them.

The central conceit of the novel is that there are operatives in the future, the marvellously named “Chronmen”, who travel back in time to loot resources from other, better provisioned eras. The protagonist is one such Chronman. The setting of the novel thus jumps about a bit. There are digressions into the Carthaginian period, and the second World War, but also time spent in our own near and more distant future, along with the dystopia that our protagonist calls home. At each of these locations, the author makes an effort to create a vivid and believable world, and largely succeeds.

The historical time periods will feel familiar to anyone who watched Gladiator or Indiana Jones – but each of the other periods feels similarly real. In part this is due to the level of detail and multi-layered descriptions made available, and in part it’s due to the plausible nature of the times and era presented. 

The best of these is probably the one that frames the ‘now’ of the novel – the ostensible time of the main character. That our protagonist, living in a rather unpleasant , shattered version of the world considers it normal is depressing – but that normality, that grinding sense of oppression, obsolescence and decay is transmitted, with pitch perfect acuity, to the reader. In part this is due to the wider canvas, which Chu paints with a palpable sense of dead and expectation. The dead seas. The need for technology to provide clean air. But it’s also due to the small details wrapped around the descriptions of this wider canvas. In the way that characters internal monologues simply accept their appalling situation. In the way that corporate power is accepted as a species of divine right. In the way that every vehicle is laced with grime, rust and decay except for those owned by secretive corporations.  

The author provides a multiplicity of settings, and it speaks well for the quality of the prose that each of them is both unique and believable. But the broken  ‘present’ of the Chronmen is  masterful, not just because it’s drawn well, but because the characters that inhabit it seem to carry it with them, no matter what period we find them in. The world created is in perfect harmony with the miserable, angry characters which inhabit it. The setting is as welcoming to the reader as a punch in the gut, and as forceful – because it has a terrifying veneer of the real about it, and the author’s skill has made that veneer seem frighteningly possible.

Of course the world is nothing without characters to inhabit it. Here we again get a multiplicity of viewpoints. The Chronman who acts as the protagonist  is bitter, broken, wallowing in self-interest and interested in self destruction. In part this is evoked by the setting, above; but the reader can also find it in his internal monologue, and in the fraught tone of each interaction with others. There’s some emotional damage alluded to at the start of the text, which becomes clearer as the narrative evolves – and the character evolves alongside it. Personally I would have liked to have seen more of this evolution, mined the depths of a psyche scarred by tragedy and the horror of watching countless deaths in the past – but whilst the author may not mine this as deeply as they could, what is presented is wonderfully horrifying. The Chronman as a protagonist is believable because of his flaws, his unlikable, abrasive nature – a classic antihero. If we’ve seen the archetype before, this is an excellent variation on the theme; if I say anything for the Chronman, I would say he feels worryingly human.

The same level of care appears to have been expended on the supporting cast. The central antagonist of the piece gets their own space in the text, their own internal monologue. They have a set of drives and motivations which make them seem at worst ambiguous, and at best, like the protagonist, entirely human – merely tied to a different set of moral standards. The supporting cast are well rounded, and certainly have their own goals, thoughts, motivations also – and the author does a good job of portraying of portraying the difference in perspectives across different time periods.

There’s some things in the characterisation that it would have been nice to see further developed. For example, there’s an understated romance moving through the narrative, and it actually works quite well – but the overall arc feels a bit abrupt, and it would have been good to have some more exploration in this area. Similarly, there’s a degree to which the corporations of the future act as a systemic antagonist – and whilst this works in the context of this book, it would have been interesting to see a more ambiguous portrayal, rather than one actively antagonistic. In both cases, I’m hoping the next book in the series will expand on the existing context, and give it a little more oomph; what is there in the current text is sufficient to make it believable, but it would be great to see a more multi-textual exploration of both antagonistic and romantic relationships.

Finally, the plot. This starts off as a slow burn, as our protagonist infiltrates the past for various reasons. We’re given a view of several of the characters, and introduced to the status quo. And then…things change, and we’re off to the races. In between the characterisation and the setting, there’s an action-packed core.  Wes Chu writes fight scenes with dynamic enthusiasm and a kinetic energy that (almost literally) jumps off the page. The plot has other sides of course. There’s some discussion of the ethics and morality of time travel. The subtextual discussion of the role of private and public sector in the lives of citizens. The less subtextual attempts to save the broken future. It feels like there’s something for everyone. Each of these strands is woven together into a coherent whole. Where there are narrative gaps, the quickfire pacing typically manages to elide them; there are some moments where the momentum stutters a little, but typically the book is very hard to put down.

Overall, this is a rocket of a novel. A fast-paced sci-fi thriller. It asks a lot of interesting questions, and whilst some of the answers may be a bit in-your-face, the series has a great deal of potential. If you’re in the mood for something with a unique setting, rapid fire plot, interesting characters, and a solid science-fiction feel, this will definitely be worth a look. 

Interstitial - Time Salvager

Tomorrow we have a review of Wes Chu's Time Salvager; it's something of a thriller across several time periods. Interesting, ambiguous characters and a compelling plot make for a fascinating read.

Two of Swords (Part Four) - K.J. Parker

Two of Swords is the new serialised novel by K.J. Parker. The first three parts are available now, and run to about eighty pages each. Further parts will be made available on a monthly basis. I’m going to try and put out a review for one of the currently available parts each week, and then review each new part in the month where it becomes available.

Much like the preceding section, this fourth part of Parker’s serialised novel changes the viewpoint on the reader. This time we’re dragged up into the higher echelons of politics, there to follow an aide to an Empress, as they – alongside everyone else – go to war. The character is portrayed with Parker’s typical flourishes. We see self doubt, seeds of misgiving, a core of unshakeable loyalty. There’s less of the trademark Parker cynicism, as such, but a great deal of self-awareness in the character, which shines through in contemplation, and the prose indicates a more reflective temperament than the protagonists that we’ve followed before.

The narrative, being centred around this point of view, reflects those alterations in character. There’s less of the rapid-fire dialogue and action of the preceding section; this feels more like a meditation on and  examination of actions and consequences. The setting, as alluded to above, is different as well. There is some time spent in the insular courts of a nation trapped between sides in the war of Empires from the last there sections – but the large part is spent back out on the road, as our protagonist leads an army in search of a rather elusive enemy, with Parker’s traditionally unexpected results.

As usual, the prose is thoroughly enjoyable to read. Parker manages to create an informal, chatty tone, which makes for an extremely rapid read. At the same time, the tone wraps around the rather bleak events of the text, creating a wonderfully stark contrast between the medium and the message. Veteran Parker readers have seen this style before, most notably in his Purple and Black, which this shares themes with.  There’s a lot of focus on people trying to do their best in adverse circumstances, and the long running Parker focus on the decay of complicated systems – in this case, the potential collapse of an army, and possibly an entire country.

There’s also a bit more focus on the elusive Craftsmen mentioned in the preceding volume; hints of an even deeper game are presented, and more hidden hands are revealed behind events. Quite where Parker is going to go with this isn’t entirely clear (as ever!), but there’s a definite layering of motives and mysterious characters with more than one hidden agenda.

As a standalone, this is a perfectly readable piece of short fiction by Parker; it has a lot of the common themes of their work, believable, reasonable, logical characters, clever and accessible prose, and is a thoroughly compulsive read. As part of the larger mosaic of a serial, it seems to be hinting toward the larger stories behind the currently visible tex. The movement of armies, the shifting sands of politics, all give the reader a broader perspective on events – tying those that occurred in the first three parts to those in the current section gives the reader a bit more insight. It also leaves them craving more.

Another thoroughly enjoyable piece by Parker, both as an individual work, and as part of the larger collection. Recommended!

Interstitial - Two of Swords (Part Four)

Tomorrow has another in my ongoing series of reviews of K.J. Parker's new serialised novel, Two of Swords. This week we're on to part four. This part largely returns to the military focus of the first part - but this time from a somewhat more elevated perspective.

Tracer - Rob Boffard

Tracer is a sci-fi dystopian novel, packed with action, wrapped around some interesting characters. 

The narrative centres around a slowly decaying space station, Outer Earth. The last bastion of humanity, perpetually orbiting a world eternally marked by cataclysm, its creaking environs are one of the stars of the text. The author has created a claustrophobic world, one in which merely existing is a struggle against entropy. But it’s also a world that makes sense - there’s a focus on the control of air, on food supplies, concerns over a growing population. The station that serves as the character’s world is struggling under a lot of the same concerns as our own – environmental, economic, social. It feels lived in, and it feels real. On the other hand, it doesn’t feel like a particularly nice place to live – there’s a metaphorical grime patina across everything. Systems are slowing down, or already non-functional. Flickering internal lighting shows areas of the station run as slums, gangs controlling water points. Other areas remain under governmental control, but there’s a whiff of totalitarianism about the security forces – less-than-affectionately named the ‘Stompers’ by our cast. What Boffard has created is an environment that displays enormity and fragility at the same time, and then dropped characters into it, with events that ratchet up until the whole station is a pressure cooker. 

Speaking of the characters – the main focus is on one of the titular Tracers. Seemingly a cross between parkour enthusiasts and cage fighters, they run packages through the station after the demise of any more efficient postal service. The protagonist here is Riley, a Tracer who discovers more than she should about one of the packages she’s carrying. Riley manages to give the vibe of being the strong female lead – she carries off her work competently, can fight effectively in hand-to-hand combat, has a surprising amount of emotional depth. The first two of these traits cover a great many action heroes, in this post-Hunger Games world, but it’s delightful to find a heroine who is more than a cardboard cutout. Boffard shows us a relatively young girl carrying around rather a lot of emotional damage – which largely manifests as emotional distance, with a razors edge of paranoia wrapped around it. Our protagonist is not easy to get close to, in the physical or emotional sense. But this feeling of damage and distance is well crafted – Riley’s internal monologue reveals causes, explains and drives reactions, and drags the reader into her head. At the same time, her casual competence and wry humour makes for a pleasant read.

Quite the reverse is true for the villain of the piece. I won’t get into details here for fear of spoilers; however, I will say that the author has done a masterful job with his antagonist. There’s less delicacy around the motivations here, the psychology behind them made more explicit – and a little less nuanced. But at the same time, every page oozes with unpleasantness, with a kind of creeping horror and crawling sense of internal filth; it’s an absolute masterclass in unrepentant villainy, a sci-fi Othello. The sections where the antagonist features heavily aren’t a pleasant read, but they are an incredibly compelling one. 

The plot suffers a little alongside the setting and the characters. It feels like a big budget action movie dropped onto the page. This isn’t a bad thing, mind you. In particular, there’s some wonderful tension in the early sections, before the later ones turn the action up to eleven. There’s decisions within the narrative which, on closer inspection, served the plot, rather than the characters – but in the heat of the moment, they also serve the narrative flow, and so are easily forgiven. There’s a fair amount of running, jumping, and struggling against impossible odds. A smattering of betrayal and personal loss. A fair amount of well described hand-to hand fighting. And a refusal to lower the stakes at any time.

Solid characters. Tight plotting. Well realised setting. It makes for a very compelling, compulsive reading experience, and one that’s thoroughly entertaining – this one’s worth picking up, if you’re in the mood for some sci-fi action.

Interstitial - Tracer

Monday we have a review of Rob Boffard's action-packed sci-fi debut, Tracer. It really does feel a lot like an action movie filmed on a space station, and that's not a bad thing.

Should have the next part in my ongoing series of reviews for K.J. Parker's serialised Two of Swords out next week as well.

Children of Time - Adrian Tchaikovsky

Children of Time is a new stand-alone sci-fi novel by Adrian Tchaikovsky – the author famed for his sprawling fantasy series, Shadows of the Apt. This book has the same quality of prose and narrative sense as that larger work, but manages to retain the focus required of a stand-alone, whilst also attempting to cover a breathtaking narrative scope – which, with a few minor hitches, it does.

Speaking of scope, this is a text defined by it. Following what can only be described as an “incident”, a planet-sized terraforming project, designed to uplift the planetary fauna into intelligence, is left effectively unattended. In the absence of human interference, that intelligence thrives – but it comes from some rather unexpected directions. A large part of the novel deals with this gradual process of uplift. The reader is shown the first stirrings of sentience among the original creatures of the world. Each chapter feels like  a historical vignette. The learning of co-operation for hunting. The first struggles against an external environment. The struggle against biological urges in the interests of the greater good. The stirrings of religious awe. The rise of technology and urbanisation. The battle against disease. The casting down of gods. Each is crafted as a set piece, a window into the slow evolution of a species which has intelligence in common with humanity, but which comes across as almost entirely alien. It’s perhaps the author’s greatest achievement that the reader can empathise with these protagonists throughout their history. Can see their point of view, can understand their alien needs, wants, the struggles that define them as people, rather than other, even if not human. At the same time, the reader is always left with their empathy immersed in a sense of the alien – where humanity can perhaps sympathise but not entirely understand. Frankly, the crafting of this sympathetic yet thoroughly unique viewpoint an absolute masterpiece.

As we’re being dipped into the nuances of an entirely foreign psyche, the reader is also being shown the potential, one way or another, of humanity. The heirs of the terraforming project are returning, if not entirely to schedule. Rather than a sleek armada, however, we find our cast of humanity coiled in the guts of a slowly decaying Ark-ship – the crew and euphemistically termed “cargo” frozen at launch, awakened in need. At the same time as we watch the slow uplift of the planetary inhabitants, there’s another view – the struggle against the decline and decay of humanity, the increasing desperation to find a home. Here our protagonist is a historian, giving us a view on Earth’s future past, struggling to understand and document events in snatches between trips into the sleep chambers. Humanity, as ever, starts with the best of intentions, but entropy, and their own worst natures, are something more of a challenge. Watching every step, every potential catastrophe, Tchaikovsky manages to give us an understanding of the stakes, of how each person is acting as they think best – and keeps the reader aware that the stakes are incredibly high.

Eventually, of course, these two strands of narrative are set on a collision course. I won’t go into the conclusion here, but will note that Tchaikovsky really manages to turn the screws on the reader; the tension as the book draws to a close was wonderfully unbearable. The denoument promises a lot, and honestly, it pretty much manages to deliver.

The human characters that we see, scattered between cryogenic freezing, are fascinating. Dropped in and out of time, we can see members of the “Key Crew” mature, age, and react with and against their circumstances. There’s a couple of the supporting cast which seem a little underdeveloped, but the central relationships are strongly crafted, and entirely believable. At the same time, the individuals on the terraformed planet are inscrutably alien, but also feel perfectly human – a line that Tchaikovsky walks with great care, and great success.

With that in mind, is this worth reading? Absolutely. It’s well written – the prose has Tchaikovsky’s hallmark accessible but compulsive quality. The characters are believable, and in some instances, genuinely, astoundingly alien. The perspective, literally across space and time, is unique. The narrative arc is driven, tense, highly emotive (tears more than laughter, but definitely a bit of both), and incredibly compelling.  A highly intriguing piece of science fiction – wonderfully done.