Showing posts with label creator: octavia e. butler. Show all posts
Showing posts with label creator: octavia e. butler. Show all posts

08 June 2022

Library of America: Kindred / Fledgling / Collected Stories by Octavia E. Butler

Kindred / Fledgling / Collected Stories by Octavia E. Butler

Having picked up both the Library of America editions of Philip K. Dick's work and Ursula K. Le Guin's, I just began collecting almost all of their editions of classic sf writers, which brought me to Octavia E. Butler. This is the first of what I guess will be four volumes collecting all of Butler's work; it contains all of her non-series fiction: Kindred, Fledgling, and all of her short fiction except for one Patternist story. Kindred I had read twice before, a couple of the short stories once, and everything else here was new to me. As I often do, I chose to read it in (mostly) original publication order.

Collection published: 2020
Contents originally published: 1971-2014
Acquired: July 2021
Read: December 2021

Kindred is a great book, and I don't really have anything to add to that summation. It's a harrowing look at the mentality of slavery, of how it changes the way you think, be you master or slave, by plunging a black woman and a white man from the 1970s into a situation where they must adapt or die. Lots of details that feel right.

Fledgling felt like minor Butler, probably the weakest novel I've read by her (though I certainly haven't read them all). The basic idea is sound and, as I'll get to below, pretty typical Butler: a species with an unusual means of reproduction that requires human cooperation. It's a decent enough take on vampires. But the book spends more time explaining the premise than doing anything interesting with it, and the trial sequence is a plod. You never feel any suspense, and one feels that the complexities of this situation have largely gone explored. Alas that there never was a sequel.

The short fiction was the big discovery for me here. Butler didn't consider herself much of a short story writer, but it's clear that when she wanted to write a piece of short fiction, she could by and large knock it out of the park. "Speech Sounds," "Bloodchild," "The Evening and the Morning and the Night," and "Amnesty" are all great, well observed, somewhat unsettling tales. Weird worlds that you can apply to our own, but not obvious or pat metaphors, either. The only one I didn't like was "The Book of Martha," which to be honest, felt like the kind of thing a beginning writer might come up with and wouldn't have been published if it wasn't by Butler.

Reading a bunch of one author in succession lets you see their themes and interest; the idea of people being biologically compelled to do something, especially reproduce, runs across almost everything in this volume. Often it's a compulsion that was externally injected in some way. Is this a violation of free will? Butler's stories seem to posit, no: if you don't think of your own compulsion to have sex and reproduce as a violation of free will, why should you think of these ones that way... no matter how distasteful they seem to us? Which of course encourages us to reflect on the biological drives we already have. In what I've read of her work, I think this theme reaches its peak in Xenogenesis: Dawn, but you can see it here, too. You could even claim it's what underlies Kindred: Dana must ensure reproduction, or she will die, even if it involves a rape of an innocent woman.

In light of Butler's own biography, it feels particularly interesting: no romantic partners, no offspring. Some have posited that she was asexual or aromantic, and if so, that might inform our understanding of all this. To her, human sexuality and reproduction may have been as alien as Tlic reproduction was to us! She makes us see it from the outside through science fiction because that is how she saw it herself.

As far as apparatus goes, this is the best Library of America volume I have read. Gerry Canavan provides a range of useful, enlightening material: I got more out of his twelve-page chronology of Butler's life than I did from the entirety of A Handful of Earth, A Handful of Sky, and he is a genuinely great writer of end notes. They don't just give you dictionary definitions, but explain why a reference matters in a way the enhances your understanding of the stories; a good example of this is when he doesn't just tell you what The Atlantic is, but tells you why Butler might have picked it as a literary journal to mention (p. 765). It was kind of funny to see many ordinary facts of 2006 life explained in the Fledgling notes, though. It's the past now, I guess!

So far no future Butler volumes from LOA have been announced, but I am hopeful for ones covering Xenogenesis, the Patternist series (in complete form, I pray), and the Parable novels. Based on this one, they will be well worth it.

12 November 2021

2021 Hugo Award for Best Graphic Story or Comic Ballot

Here it is, my rankings for the recently-but-awkwardly-renamed category of Best Graphic Story or Comic.

Things I Nominated

I don't read very many current comics in their year of release; since I read most of my comics through collected editions, I'm always about a year behind, which makes it tricky to nominate things. In 2020, the comics I kept up with were Brian Michael Bendis and Ryan Sook's Legion of Super-Heroes, Saladin Ahmed and Minkyu Jung's The Magnificent Ms. Marvel, Brian Ruckley and Anna Malkova's Transformers, the anthology series Transformers: Galaxies, and the first Transformers / My Little Pony crossover, Friendship in Disguise! Only one of those could I claim unabashed enjoyment of, so I did nominate Friendship in Disguise! 

It didn't make the ballot. I would be surprised to see it even make the longlist, as I don't think Transformers comics ever have, even when at their peak with More than Meets the Eye.


6. Die: Split the Party, written by Kieron Gillen, art by Stephanie Hans

This series is one-half D&D, one-half Jumanji, and now, weirdly, one-half the Brontës' Tales of Angria!? Anyway it's possible something quite clever is happening here, but I never cared.

5. Invisible Kingdom: Edge of Everything, written by G. Willow Wilson, art by Christian Ward

This is the second volume of a space opera trilogy; the library had the first volume (Walking the Path) on Hoopla, so I went ahead and read both together. I liked the basic ideas here, though it does feel heavily Saga-influenced with all the zipping around and quickly sketched worldbuilding. It's about a space Amazon delivery crew, a nun who finds out her religious order is corrupt, and what brings them together. Christian Ward's art is beautiful, but I found the writing and the art made it a struggle to track the space Amazon characters as individuals, much to the detriment of the story. There are some big things that don't seem developed enough, while on the other hand, some small things drag out for a long time. I really wanted to like this, as I like both creators, and madcap-underdog-space-adventures is basically my favorite genre, but I never got into it.

4. Octavia E. Butler's Parable of the Sower: A Graphic Novel Adaptation, adaptation by Damian Duffy, art by John Jennings

This is a comics adaptation of Parable of the Sower, the first of Octavia Butler's two "Earthseed" novels; I own the novel but have not yet got around to reading it. Coming to the adaptation without having actually read the book, I found it somewhat stilted. There is a lot of narration (pulled, I assume, from the novel's prose), and I didn't feel the art carried the story as much as it might have. The art looks good, and is tonally appropriate, but there are a lot of characters that I couldn't always keep straight. It seemed interesting, but never really grabbed me.

3. Monstress: Warchild, written by Marjorie Liu, art by Sana Takeda

On the other hand, volume five of Monstress was fine. Not great, but fine, and one of the better installments of the series. I do like the ongoing story of Kippa, even if much of the rest of the set-up leaves me cold, so I am ranking it higher than Parable.

2. Once & Future: The King Is Undead, written by Kieron Gillen, art by Dan Mora

This collects the first six issues of a new series from eternal Hugo favorite Kieron Gillen. The premise is good fun: sure you can bring King Arthur back to life... but wouldn't that make him a zombie? There's also the potential to say some interesting stuff about British national identity, and occasionally the book does. Mostly, though, it's a fast-paced action story with lots of twists and turns, and fun characters, supported by strong art from Dan Mora. Enjoyable, and I would read more of this, but I felt there was room for more thematic depth. 

1. Ghost-Spider: Dog Days Are Over, written by Seanan McGuire, penciled by Takeshi Miyazawa with Ig Guara, inked by Takeshi Miyazawa & Rosi Kämpe with Ig Guara

I'm not sure I've ever read a Seanan McGuire Hugo finalist that I've unreservedly liked, but this collection of comics about Ghost-Spider (the hero formerly known as Spider-Gwen) came the closest. This was pretty delightful superhero stuff: Gwen Stacy is trying to be in a band and fight crime in her own universe of Earth-65 while also trying to attend college and make a friendship with an older version of Peter Parker on Earth-616. It's pretty typical "young superhero" tropes with just enough novelty to make it enjoyable; in the Marvel multiverse, Deans of Admission just shrug off when new students are transfers from other timelines! I've been a fan of Takeshi Miyazawa ever since Spider-Man Loves Mary Jane, and he is as dependable here as always, a perfect match for what McGuire is doing on writing. Overall a cute package that made me want to go back and read all the Spider-Gwen comics.

Ranking is tricky because this is definitely less ambitious than Monstress or Parable of the Sower. It is, on the other hand, does a better job of being what it wants to be, and what it wants to be is more to my taste. My main reservation is that the story basically just stops; this collects the first five issues of a ten-issue series. I guess we will have to wait to see the nominating data to understand why, but I am a bit baffled as to why the nominators didn't just nominate the whole ten-issue series as a single work; as it ran from Oct. 2019 to Oct. 2020, it would have been eligible as a single unit, and I probably would have liked it unreservedly (assuming McGuire sticks the landing).



Overall Thoughts

I kind of feel like I should deploy No Award? But that seems churlish; I can see why someone else would like all of the items on this list, even when I didn't particularly enjoy them myself. Some years there have been some great sf&f comics up for the Hugo Award, that I was glad to have read, but that mostly was not the case this year.

Obviously Monstress will win. Maybe things will finally be shaken up in the 2023 awards, when Saga will finally be eligible again.

30 May 2019

Review: Lilith's Brood by Octavia E. Butler

Trade paperback, 746 pages
Published 2007 (contents: 1987-89)

Previously read September 2005May 2007
Acquired June 2016
Reread May 2019
Lilith's Brood by Octavia E. Butler

Way back in summer 2016, when I taught my class on apocalyptic and postapocalyptic literature, one of the novels I elected to teach was Octavia Butler's Dawn. As a piece of postapocalyptic literature, it's even bleaker than most. So many postapocalyptic stories seem bleak, but in the long run cop out on that, probably because of what Claire Curtis says, that "[t]hey provide both the voyeuristic satisfaction of terrible violence and the Robinson Crusoe excitement of starting over again" (6). There's a weird sort of utopian optimism that underlies the postapocalyptic story, even, say The Walking Dead, where things go round and round and never get resolved... but everyone in the book seems to think they will.

This is true of African-American apocalypses as well. This is not my area of expertise, but there's a great article on the topic by Houston Baker called "Freedom and Apocalypse: A Thematic Approach to Black Expression." Baker says that denied access to their own ancestral mythology, African-Americans had to make use of Christianity's, but that wasn't exactly readily available either: "The black folk on small farms, on large plantations, and in the cities of America, having effectively been isolated from West African culture, were denied meaningful participation in white culture by proscriptive and dehumanizing laws. […] The isolated black folk looked to religion as a unifying myth that could provide social cohesion" (43-4). One thing that resonated, though, was the apocalypse, which is when that unification and cohesion would come to pass: "The end of the old earth and the descent of the final destroying fires […] was an event […] all black men could look to with Christian joy and with a firm confidence that freedom would follow" (49).

There's nothing like that in Dawn. Humanity has been destroyed by nuclear war, and the survivors are only alive by the grace of the Oankali, a race of aliens who need our genetic material to survive. But humanity has no desire to learn from its mistakes-- the people in this book are distrustful, carrying forward all the same hatreds and prejudices that doomed humanity the first time around. Lilith cannot convince anyone else of what she thinks because she is black and a woman. And freedom has not followed, because now the Oankali are here, ready to use our bodies as raw material for their own development. In some ways the Oankali are superior, because they don't murder or fight... but they also are completely self-interested as a species, and there are some obvious parallels between what they do to humanity and what America did to black folk. The "final destroying fires" haven't made anything better.

One aspect of the African-American apocalypse that Baker identifies is the trickster, who is able to manipulate the apocalypse: "in the earliest folk art of the black American, the etiological animal tale, we find the expression of revolutionary social and religious concerns. The psychical identification of the slave with the trickster made it possible for the folk to depict apocalyptic events that would punish their white oppressors" (49). I don't know if Butler knew she was doing this, but Lilith feels like a rebuttal to this trickster tradition. She comes up with these plans and ideas, and things always fall apart. The Oankali outmanuever her, or her fellow humans self-sabotage. In the end, she cannot do anything other than succumb. But maybe life as an Oankali slave is better than as a free human? It's a trite question, but Butler is good at utterly reserving judgement. One never feels that an action is supposed to be "good" or "bad" in her novels' moral universe, it simply is. Dawn is a sharply observed, astounding achievement, a discussion of what it means to be human that pulls no punches, and certainly one of the bleakest pieces of postapocalyptic literature ever written. None of the optimism seen by Curtis or Baker is present.

Dawn was the only Xenogenesis novel I taught that summer. Some of my students were intrigued by it; others baffled. That's a success in my book, but I'm not sure I did the book justice. It's complicated in a way that defies easy discussion. Anyway, I had ordered the collected edition (retitled Lilith's Brood in 2000) since a new copy of it is cheaper than a new copy of Dawn on its own, and I eventually got around to rereading the last two installments of the trilogy.

I found Adulthood Rites and Imago disappointing compared to the first book. Don't get me wrong, they're very good, but Dawn is on a whole other level. The complexity of character, the bleakness, the astute observations of human nature that drive Dawn just aren't in Adulthood Rites and Imago, thanks to their focus on Oankali constructs. I did enjoy Imago more, in taking us into the head of the first construct ooloi (it's the only book in the series written in the first person), and being pretty unsettling in doing so, as you're essentially rooting for its main character to change other character's desires for its own advantage. It's presenting very matter-of-factly, but if you think about it, it's pretty unsettling; you end up hoping that the last enclave of free humanity on Earth will give itself up to alien control! It is all to easy to empathize with the colonizer over the colonized, even when your own people are the colonized.