MONSTER BLOOD TATTOO
Book One: Foundling

by D.M. Cornish
Putnam, $18.99 (hc)
ISBN: 039924638X

This is the first volume of a new fantasy series from a first-time author from Australia. The publishers are touting it as the next big thing—and have backed their prediction to the tune of a million-dollar advance. The perceived market is the young adult readership that has made Harry Potter a publishing phenomenon. But it seems a good bet to find an enthusiastic response among post-YA readers, as well—in other words, the likes of you and me.

The story is set in a large area known as the Half Continent, ruled by an Empire whose geography and history are reminiscent of China—although the feeling of the society is much closer to eighteenth-century England. We encounter our protagonist, Rosamund, as a young foundling just completing his education at a school designed to train its graduates for careers in the Navy. (The author’s taste in character names is a bit cutesy for my taste.) A target for bullying because of his “girl’s name,” Rosamund retreats from his persecutors by reading romantic tales of monster-slayers—tales with a considerable grain of truth in this world, where humans and monsters contend for control of the land. The main action of the story begins when he is chosen as an apprentice lamplighter—an occupation sharply at odds with his dreams of naval heroism.

He travels down river on a boat named Hogshead, which we quickly learn is not the one he is supposed to be on. Realizing his mistake, he escapes, and meets an aristocratic woman named Europe, who turns out to be a famous monster-slayer. In a battle with monsters, her servant is killed, and she drafts Rosamund as a substitute. But even his first sight of the real business of monster-slaying has raised doubts in his mind; the giant she overcomes immediately after their meeting seems an innocent, childlike creature, despite its huge size and fearsome strength.

But with no one else to guide and protect him, Rosamund must stay with Europe until they reach High Vesting, the southern city where he is supposed to find someone to take him to his new job. Equally importantly, she requires constant doses of powerful medications to overcome the radical surgery that has given her the power to fight monsters. Weakened by her fight with the giant, she needs Rosamund to formulate the potion, so the two are, for the time being, dependent on one another, even though Europe, as a powerful, prestigious adult, is definitely in charge.

By now, Rosamund’s feelings about her are highly ambivalent. As a monster-slayer, she is among the most admired figures in the Empire, and he has always worshiped them as heroes. But at the same time, Rosamund has begun to worry whether his sympathy for the giant he saw her kill makes him a sedorner, or “monster-lover,” the lowest of the low in the Empire. For a lifelong admirer of the monster-slayers, this is a profoundly disturbing possibility.

They break their journey with a stay in the Harefoot Dig, a country inn where Europe recovers from her injuries and Rosamund becomes acquainted with a girl who has undertaken the lower level training to deal with the less menacing monsters that infest the local country. And they hook up with Fouracres, an imperial postman who is headed to High Vesting, and who seems to have a sort of understanding that allows him to pursue his rounds unmolested by the local monsters.

At last they arrive in High Vesting, where Rosamund once again encounters Poundinch, the half-outlaw riverboat captain with whom he began his journey to the city. He is taken prisoner, learns a frightening secret, then escapes and is reunited with his friends. He finally meets his contact for the new job, and is taken to the school where his advanced training will begin. At this point, the first volume ends.

The book is remarkable for its depth of world-building; Cornish not only supplies maps and illustrations, but a full and often witty glossary that is as much fun to read as the main text. While the youth of the protagonist and the coming-of-age theme are likely to invite comparison with the Harry Potter books, the relatively slow pace may reduce its appeal to the younger reader. A more apt parallel might be Susanna Clarke’s Dr. Strange and Mr. Norrell, with which it compares favorably in richness of world-building and in a sense of being a throwback to such models as Dickens and Fielding—although a reader of Jack Vance might find himself on familiar ground, as well. (The glossary and the author’s obvious love of odd words both feel very Vance-like.)

Sawyer’s latest is a near-future story combining two classic SF themes: SETI and life extension.

The two central characters are Sarah Halifax, an aging astronomer, and her husband Don (from whose point of view we see the story). Early in her career, Sarah managed to decipher a radio message sent by an extraterrestrial civilization. A reply was sent, and now, thirty-eight years later, a second message from the aliens has arrived. And it appears to be addressed directly to Sarah.

Now eighty-seven years old, Sarah has long since given up active work in her field, and it is clear that the new message, like the first, could take many years to decode, even with advanced computers. But Cody McGavin, a billionaire industrialist and major SETI buff, considers decoding the new alien message an overriding priority. McGavin offers Sarah a rejuvenation treatment normally available only to the superrich. She accepts, on condition that her husband Don be given the treatments as well. The deal is cut, they undergo the procedures, and all appears to be well. In the bargain, the Halifaxes receive an advanced robot, one of their benefactor’s products, to aid Sarah in her research.

Except, of course, all is not well. Don’s treatment is a success; he finds himself progressively feeling stronger, more energetic, and he is beginning to appear as he did in his early twenties. But something has gone wrong with Sarah, who not only does not appear to be regaining her youth, but who is clearly reacting badly to the rejuvenation treatment. In time they learn the reason: a cancer treatment decades ago, using experimental techniques, has prevented the rejuvenation from taking. Don will become young again, while Sarah will soon die.

Sawyer follows the diverging paths of Don and Sarah as Sarah, in her short remaining time, dedicates herself to learning what the aliens’ new message says to us. A pivotal figure is a young female grad student, Sarah’s research assistant, with whom Don comes into contact in the course of delivering materials from his wife—with predictable results.

Flashbacks give us the story of Sarah’s initial breakthrough in understanding the aliens’ message. Those scenes give us a glimpse of what extraterrestrials might have to communicate to a civilization so distant that physical contact between the two is wildly unlikely—in fact, probably impossible without the life-extension that forms the other leg of the story’s extrapolations.

Sawyer does a good job of exploring the social and moral implications of the rejuvenation technology. Don’s return to sexual activity sends him into a major guilt trip, and sets off sparks when he finally reveals their age difference to his new girlfriend. Sawyer also gets good material out of Don’s shift—at least in appearance—into a demographic group with which he has very few tastes or experiences in common. As often in SF, a technical advance that seems an unalloyed blessing turns out to carry with it a wide range of unexpected consequences.

COSMIC JACKPOT
The Scientific Quest to
Explain Why the Universe
Is Just Right for Life

by Paul Davies
Houghton Mifflin, $26.00 (hc)

ISBN: 0618592261

Here’s a thought-provoking look at the Anthropic principle, which may be the single most controversial theory in current cosmology. Davies is an advocate of the principle, which argues that our being present to view the universe gives important information as to the way that universe is put together. This is either a stunning insight or an outright banality. I have always leaned toward the latter position; but after reading Davies, I’m willing to look a bit harder at the issues raised by anthropism.

To give the lay reader a chance to follow his main points, Davies builds his argument slowly, spending the first half of the book outlining the current state of cosmology. The summary covers a range from such fundamental subjects as relativity and basic quantum theory to the newest of scientific puzzles: dark energy and M-theory.

With the essential groundwork laid, he brings up a key question. Many apparently fundamental properties of matter and of the forces that act upon it appear to be fine-tuned, in the sense that even small changes in them would have prevented the emergence of living beings. Even a minute change in the strength of gravity might prevent the formation of stars and planets, for example. Or a change in the strong force might mean that matter itself could never have come into existence. Other changes might do away with the excess of matter over antimatter created in the Big Bang, resulting in the universe’s not coming into existence at all.

Why are these parameters at their observed values instead of some equally plausible number? Many physicists would argue that the universe doesn’t have to make sense, which seems logical enough. Now advocates of the anthropic principle counter with the idea that the universe we know is only one of many, each slightly different, making up a multiverse. (The idea is reminiscent of Michael Moorcock’s fiction, although it also has foundations in a widely accepted modern interpretation of quantum mechanics.) According to this view, our universe’s suitability for intelligent life is not some highly unlikely accident, but a matter of life’s having arisen in an area suited to it. In an infinite multiverse, there should be many such areas, some bearing close resemblances to one another—so the science fictional treatments of the multiverse are perhaps not so wild, after all.