Book Reviews

Celebrating Star Trek's 40th anniversary, this collection of essays examines the show's history and impact with contributions by science fiction writers, scholars, philosophers, and fans. For longtime Trek fans, some of this material, especially by Gerrold, D.C. Fontana, Norman Spinrad, and Allan Steele, will be familiar territory. But other essays are novel, thought-provoking, and written with lively voices that draw the reader in. Eric Greene's in-depth examination of the Prime Directive and the show as Vietnam War metaphor is a particular stand-out. Robert A. Metzger's paean to engineers in general and Scotty in particular felt like an overdue appreciation. Melissa Dickinson's look at the reasons for and the appeal of fan fiction is an intelligent and respectful analysis of fan participation. Paul Levinson's essay on how Trek created modern television is a well-contructed argument about the evolution of niche programming. With only one exception—a pedantic, humorless exploration of identity in Trek by Lyle Zynda—the book is a fine addition to any Star Trek fan's library, but more than that, it's a smart, thorough look at one of the 20th century's most enduring pop culture phenomena, and well worth the read.

Where Chainfire was about Richard Phantom, it's sequel is primarily about Kahlan, who is still forgotten by the world at large. The cause? A massive spell, of course. But how to undo the effects of a spell that has not only altered peoples perceptions of reality but reality itself? And what about the approaching horde of Jagang the Just's army threatening to turn the world into a charnal house? You'll be surprised. The central thesis that worms its way like the message of a virulent marketing campaign through all of The Sword of Truth series is that people are sometimes too stupid to realize how stupid they are. No, seriously, that's the point of the books. It's a message cum morality fable told as an epic battle of the forces of unthinking followers whose blind faith leads them to rape, pillage, and destroy in the name of a corrupt philosophy that right thinking men of reason can plainly see is antithetical to the pursuit of life, liberty, and happiness. There are points at which some may want to throw their hands up and declare: Bags! I'm getting tired of Mr. Goodkind's moralizing. But if you do you'll miss the morality fable Mr. Goodkind has constructed. And it's a pertinent fable for our time that speaks to current events in the Middle East. To be perfectly honest Mr. Goodkind's writing can be grating at times but, for those who stick it out, there is an interesting story beneath the hyperbole and moralizing. There's romance, action, magic, suspense, and prophecies about final battles and saviour figures meant to lead the forces of reason against the rampaging hordes of darkness.

I'm not sure what to make of the 9th novel in Terry Goodkind's The Sword of Truth series. On the surface it's about Richard's search for Kahlan when he wakes up one morning and she's not there. Problem is he was attacked and had to be healed with magic, and when he recovers, everyone around him assumes he is delusional since they have no memory of this Kahlan person ever existing. So essentially the entire book is Richard trying to find Kahlan, or at least information about where she is, while desperately trying to convince everyone around him that he's not imagining things. But how to convince friends and allies something is terribly wrong when their memories tell them everything is perfectly fine? The novel is essentially one long tale exploring psychological self doubt and the nature of reality, a premise that is a bit tedious at times. But there's also a intricate story involving deeper questions about the nature of reality and life. For those who have complained that past books in the series were full of pointless, if sometimes entertaining, digressions, gratuitous bondage-related sadomasochistic mind games, or whatever, know that Chainfire is a novel whose central plot revolves around prophecy and magic. It may not have elves or unicorns but it does have Sisters of the Dark and Sliphs. And one very anxious Richard Rahl.

While Scott Lynch's debut novel may superficially include every cliché of high fantasy — thieves, nobles, and magic users all set in a city-state teaming with intrigue — it is, indeed, much more. Locke Lamora is the most notorious con artist in the city of Camorr. His gang, the Gentlemen Bastards, are launching their next big sting. But a mysterious interloper is challenging Capa Barsavi, the leader of Camorr's underworld, and in the process, he's bringing his trouble right to Locke's door. How Locke meets the challenge is what makes Lies so entertaining. This book isn't about nice people. It's about clever, scheming people with big ambitions and no respect for rules. It's about people with gifts for creative thievery, human butchery, and impressive profanity. Lynch's worldbuilding is rich and meticulous, his characters are engaging and well-realized, and his writing is sharp. But Lies isn't a perfect book. Locke's big choice at the end of the novel made me scratch my head a little; it didn't feel quite as characteristic as the author seemed to think it should. Lynch, a game designer, occasionally seems a little too infatuated with the world he's created. But I grant it's a world worth exploring. Word has it he's planning more stories of the Gentlemen Bastards. If he realizes his own ambitions, then he's laid a fine foundation for what's to come.