Schild's Ladder | ||||||||
Greg Egan | ||||||||
Victor Gollancz, 400 pages | ||||||||
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A review by Greg L. Johnson
What to do about the new universe is the main point of contention in Schild's Ladder, and the types of
characters involved will be familiar to many readers of Egan's earlier work,
especially Permutation City and Diaspora. It is a long ways into the future, some characters live entirely
in computer storage, all are used to having new bodies grown for them in case of harm or
death. Schild's Ladder presents us with a world in which people barely recognizable as human, faced
with a life and death crisis, argue passionately, in dense technical language, about physics that may or may
not hold the key to the basis of our reality, and may or may not save them. Now that's science fiction.
It certainly doesn't fit what the mainstream thinks of as literature, a definition that revolves around the
two standards of character development and prose style. If you handed Schild's Ladder to a mainstream reader
unfamiliar with SF, the reaction would probably be negative. You might hear the prose described as
incomprehensible, the characters thinly-drawn at worst, wooden at best. And if you argued using the
standards of the mainstream, you might be forced to concede the point.
Consider, for example, the opening paragraph:
Similarly, it would be too easy to dismiss Egan's use of characterization as the minimum needed to get
to the science. There is an old problem faced by many science fiction writers, and Egan runs right up
against it in Schild's Ladder. How do you convincingly portray the lives and feelings of characters
who live so far in the future that they can be barely be thought of as human?
Egan's characters are not 21st century human beings, and they do not act like us. There is a lack
of sexual tension, for the good reason that genetic modifications, much like those of the people
in Ursula K. Le Guin's The Left Hand of Darkness, have eliminated gender and sex-based
competition. The ability to record personalities and store them in computers, or new bodies, changes
these people's attitudes towards life and death. For example, a character casually mentions in passing
that he has died three times in the previous two chapters, events that had no effect on his life at
the time. When one resident decides to travel to another solar system, an entire planet of people slows
down their perception of time so that they will be in sync when the traveller returns. (There is no
faster than light travel in Egan's universe.)
Yet people still do have hopes and dreams, they fall in and out of love, and when one character dies, her
friend and lover reflects that "He was not an acorporeal. He had never found a way to love her that
entirely surrendered the notion that her body was the thing to cherish and protect."
In this way Egan gives just enough to care about these characters and their problems, without hiding the
fact that they and their lives are much different than ours, and their problems are discussed in language
that can force the reader to take a break every few pages, just to try and figure it out.
But no one ever said all fiction should be easy to understand, and Schild's Ladder is nothing if not
challenging. It is also, to pick a few words: Awesome. Confusing. Enlightening. Maddening. Frustrating. Brilliant.
While reading Schild's Ladder, reviewer Greg L. Johnson, was glad he had already read these books: |
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