The Clarke Award 2015
Some rich, vital novels are definitely going
to miss out on any shortlist action this year. I’m still working my way through
all the contenders but, aware that the shortlist may be out anytime soon, mine
would be:
- Bête – Adam Roberts
- A Man Lies Dreaming – Lavie Tidhar
- The Race - Nina Allan
- Station Eleven – Emily Mandel
- Europe in Autumn – Dave Hutchinson
- The Girl in the Road – Monica Byrne
These are the books
I most want to read again. I loved the first three A LOT and admire the others
a great deal. I’m curious to see how they’ll all hold up to a second reading. Choosing between Hutchinson, Jeff Vandermeer and Claire North was the
hardest bit.
I can’t help
worrying that my list is a bit conservative? I tend to read more ‘literary
fiction’ throughout the rest of the year so one of the targets I’m setting
myself is to read more sci-fi and fantasy from around the world.
A few thoughts on Bête
Reading The Buried
Giant and Bête in quick
succession was fascinating. I found The Buried
Giant very moving but , well, problematic. There’s the sense throughout
that Ishiguro is writing about something ELSE – that it falls away from
metaphor and symbolism into allegory. I also get the sense that he’s much
better at tapping into emotion and morality than he is the bigger analysis of
history and politics. Yet how then is it
so moving? What subtle mastery of technique turned me into a jabbering wreck at
the end? And I’m not at all sure my criticisms are valid anyway.
Conversely, a Robert’s novel – in spite of all the
references and the layers of intertextuality, it’s debates with matters philosophical,
political and all things science-fictiony, AND it’s all round smarts – feels
completely about itself. Thus Ishiguro’s subtlety has an obviousness about it
that verges on annoying yet is, nevertheless, powerful, whilst Roberts'
obviousness (ness?) is far more subtle, rich and pleasurably difficult.
Does that even make sense? Maybe not.
Bête is full to
bursting with ideas and fantastic writing. I wanted to read bits aloud to
people – not just the puns, the funny bits or the philosophical bits but the
descriptions of landscape too. And Graham is a fantastic creation. It felt
throughout that the text wanted to draw me into conversations and debates, engage
with Graham’s ideas and assertions. As always I can’t begin to grasp the
complexity of the text – to make a coherent sense of everything that is going
on - but that is what makes rereading Roberts so pleasurable. The other great quality of Bête is its depth of feeling and
generous humanity. That might seem like a weird thing to say for a novel that
is often so dark and perhaps suspicious of humankind’s future prospects but yes,
Bête is profound and moving too.
Paul Kincaid and Jonathan McCalmont have both
addressed the difficulties of getting to grips with Adam Roberts’ novels (here
and here)
and I’m hoping Glyphi’s collection of Critical Essays (ed. Christos Callow Jr.
and Anna McFarlane) is released soon. Andy
Sawyer’s Strange Horizons review
of Bête is the best I’ve read.
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