You might expect a first science fiction novel to be a bit tentative, possibly a bit derivative, with maybe some weak plot points or characterization. Well, I’m here to tell you that Graeme Cameron’s first book defies all that. It’s well plotted—even if it’s a bit hard to tell what the exact plot is to begin with, because it’s, um, pretty flashy. The main character, who’s sort of a double character (I’ll explain that later), is well fleshed out, and the others aren’t terribly skimpy either, even the spear carriers, like Olaf Tryggvason (no, it’s a different guy with the same name). And the writing is far from tentative; in fact, I hope I write with as much assurance as Graeme does. The book is called Shatter Dark (Figure 1), from Celtic Frog Publishing, and speaking as a guy who’s read many thousands of books, this one took me by surprise. Before I get into the book itself, let me tell you a bit about its author.
Nobody I know uses his first name (Richard); he goes in person by Graeme (pronounced pretty much like “Graham”) or in editing and publishing often by “The Graeme.” He’s been a fannish fixture in Vancouver’s fan community for decades; he’s edited BCSFA’s (the BC Science Fiction & Fantasy Association) house organ BCSFAzine; he publishes two free online semi-pro SF/F magazines as follows: he personally edits Polar Borealis, which contains SF/F writing and poetry, and Rhea Rose edits Polar Starlight, which is dedicated to SF/F poetry—he pays (small amounts, but still, it’s payment) for all stories, poems, and cover art out of his own pocket. Did I mention that both online magazines are free to read? He’s well known in Canadian fandom as the winner of seven Aurora Awards—and is a member of the Canadian Science Fiction Hall of Fame and a long-time columnist for Amazing Stories; and he serves as panelist and entertainment at numerous Canadian conventions. But he always wanted to be a writer, so while doing all that other stuff, he wrote a book!
Okay, what about Shatter Dark? Is it a good book? Worth reading? Well written? From my point of view, all of these apply. I’ve read better books, but few first SF books of this quality. It’s a post-apocalyptic novel that’s unlike any other post-apocalyptic novel I’ve read for a number of reasons: first, although it’s post-nuclear-apocalypse, it’s nothing like The Road, or blasted wasteland/struggle for survival/desperate protagonists facing gangs or mutants or… you name it. For one thing, it was a limited nuclear exchange, I gather. For another, the oceans rose (I assume it was the polar ice caps melting, though I can’t remember that being explicitly explained) and drowned a lot of coastal cities—mainland Vancouver being one of them. Thanks to the wars, radiation and (I think) weaponized viruses and stuff, not only the world’s soil, but most human beings are sterile, although that has begun reversing in the last 20 years or so. How do they get food? From the Vats. Clothing? From the Vats. And in the fourth place, The Singularity, when AI achieves intelligence and technology outstrips human control, has taken place, with unforseen consequences.
Those consequences? Just about everyone has a mind implant called a Mate, but the AI doesn’t do a Skynet or try to take control; in fact, the world is in such crappy state that the AI has just about given up and is contemplating suicide; Technet, the World-Wide AI network that most people are connected to and rely on, is about to call it quits, seeing no hope. Those nanobots that are in everything, making everything work? Without the Technet, they’re gonna be minuscule little lumps. And they work (with Technet AI) the Vats. There used to be AI-controlled teleportation, too, but… you get the picture.
And Rudwolf the Smiter, our protagonist? He has a mind pal too, but not a Mate. He calls his headmate “buddy-bod,” and it’s neither a Mate nor controlled by Technet, though it can listen to and communicate with others’ Mates, and it can access all the databanks of Technet. It’s part of him, though sometimes Rudwulf wonders if he’s got a split personality. Rudwulf is called “The Smiter” because that’s his job. He kills people for money (“smites” them); either singly or in large groups. In fact, he’s one of the bigwigs of this future civilization (if you want to call it that), along with people like Tlaloc, who’s an emissary of the Aztec Caique, who calls himself the “God-Emperor.” And Mussolini (a new one of that name) who’s the “World Emperor,” and so on. And everyone worships gods of choice: Rudwulf has chosen Norse gods, like Thor, and Loki; Mussolini worships the old Roman gods, and so on. There’s also Sennacherib, the Egyptian ambassador, who goes with Thoth and Isis and that crowd.
Rudwulf has a bodyguard, too, the delectable Myriad who, alone or with her duplicates, serves many functions for Rudwulf, not the least of which is ornamental, whether wearing Minoan fashion or going totally naked. But she’s deadly, make no mistake—because a number of people are out to kill Rudwulf and she’s there to forestall them (kill them if necessary).
Has all this given you an incentive to rush to Amazon and pick up a copy of Shatter Dark? I hope so. I don’t want to give anything away about the plot, because it’s hard to talk about without spoilers. It’s available for $5.43 CDN ($3.99 USD) for the Kindle, or $10.73 CDN ($14.50 USD) for a POD paperback.
I’m just excited about rereading it, because it’s so much fun. It’s a dry wit somewhat akin to Keith Laumer’s “Retief,” though nothing like that. And it moves along very well.
If you liked or disliked this review, please let me know. Drop me an email, stevefah at hotmail dot com; or talk to me on Facebook. But if you hated it, please let me know why so I can do better next time! Thanks for reading! This column is neither approved by, nor a reflection on Amazing Stories, its owner, editor, other columnists or anyone but me. So there.
Steve has been an active fan since the 1970s, when he founded the Palouse Empire Science Fiction Association and the more-or-less late MosCon in Pullman, WA and Moscow, ID, though he started reading SF/F in the early-to-mid 1950s, when he was just a sprat. He moved to Canada in 1985 and quickly became involved with Canadian cons, including ConText (’89 and ’81) and VCON. He’s published a couple of books and a number of short stories, and has collaborated with his two-time Aurora-winning wife Lynne Taylor Fahnestalk on a number of art projects. As of this writing he’s the proofreader for R. Graeme Cameron’s Polar Borealis and Polar Starlight publications. He’s been writing for Amazing Stories off and on since the early 1980s. His column can be found on Amazing Stories most Fridays.
Recent Comments