@RUTGERS.ARPA:mcb%lll-tis.arpa@lll-tis (01/19/85)
From: mcb%lll-tis.arpa@lll-tis (Michael C. Berch) Delany, Samuel R. STARS IN MY POCKET LIKE GRAINS OF SAND. (Bantam, December 1984, hc, 368 pp., $16.95. ISBN 0-553-05053-2.) There have always been two Delanys: the one that is fascinated by communications theory, linguistics, semiotics, and high technology; and the one obsessed with slavery, rough sex, and degradation. His books based on these themes and images have tended to fall into one category or the other: BABEL-17, NOVA, and TRITON being typical of the former and DHALGREN and most of TALES OF NEVERYON the latter. In STARS IN MY POCKET LIKE GRAINS OF SAND Delany's two worlds blend in a forceful and compelling manner. Set in a universe of dazzling information technologies and designed environments, the novel begins with a slave who, having submitted to psychosurgery, is much like a blank slate upon whom the intricacies and intrigues of the book can be written. Delany shifts gears quickly to develop the interstellar culture by introducing Marq Dyeth, an "industrial diplomat" (that's a combination trade emissary, problem solver, and general consultant) and Marq's home on the planet Velm. This is a universe populated by humans and an alien race (described visually only in tantalizing nuggets) with whom humans have lived in cooperation for many generations. In this society, the words "she" and "her" describe sentients of both races and both genders; "he" and "him" have quite a different meaning entirely! The information culture on Marq's home planet is full of technological surprises (Delany has invented some unique replacements for encyclopedia and telephone) and Byzantine intrigues. On myriads of planets, proponents of two rival models for social and cultural development clash and contend for political and economic ascendancy; the flow of information between societies is controlled by an organization called the Web, sort of a meta-government with apparently unlimited resources. Cultural institutions, both alien and human, are put forth by Delany, shaken as if inside a gift box, examined, and dissected. Rat Korga, the slave, whose life consisted of rude meals, hovels, excrement, and rough sex, is thrust by events into the flashing-lights-and-computer-hookup world of the Web and its friends and enemies and collaborators and betrayers. Marq Dyeth, comfortable among his family (and what a family it is!) and home, has learned things that he may not wish to have learned, about the political realities of the civilization and about friends, new and old. As a comedy of manners, STARS IN MY POCKET LIKE GRAINS OF SAND is unassailable, though the manners and institutions dealt with are fictional and fanciful; as a technological sf novel it is among the best, in pure terms of speculation and invention. The academic and intellectual Delany supervenes over the dark and sordid one, so the novel is cerebral rather than visceral. But Delany could easily be the finest prose stylist writing in English today, inside or outside the sf genre. His language never fails to sparkle: in many passages, each word seems chosen like a crystal that, when struck exactly, will resonate with a clarity of tone and harmonic that suggest meanings and shadows of meaning only hinted at when the phrase is first read. Yes, it's THAT good. STARS IN MY POCKET LIKE GRAINS OF SAND is one of those rare books without a flaw or blemish. Had I been the editor, I would not have been able to find a single word to change or a passage that I'd refer to the author for clarification. However, not every such book is worthy of the praise that this one deserves; some are held back by their internal limitations. Not so here. Only an abject failure in THE SPLENDOR AND MISERY OF BODIES, OF CITIES, which will finish the tale begun in STARS IN MY POCKET, could possibly lessen Mr. Delany's achievement. Michael C. Berch mcb@lll-tis.ARPA {akgua,ihnp4,sun}!idi!lll-tis!mcb
@RUTGERS.ARPA:mcb%lll-tis.ARPA@lll-tis (02/04/85)
From: mcb%lll-tis.ARPA@lll-tis (Michael C. Berch) Delany, Samuel R. STARS IN MY POCKET LIKE GRAINS OF SAND. (Bantam, December 1984, hc, 368 pp., $16.95. ISBN 0-553-05053-2.) There have always been two Delanys: the one that is fascinated by communications theory, linguistics, semiotics, and high technology; and the one obsessed with slavery, rough sex, and degradation. His books based on these themes and images have tended to fall into one category or the other: BABEL-17, NOVA, and TRITON being typical of the former and DHALGREN and most of TALES OF NEVERYON the latter. In STARS IN MY POCKET LIKE GRAINS OF SAND Delany's two worlds blend in a forceful and compelling manner. Set in a universe of dazzling information technologies and designed environments, the novel begins with a slave who, having submitted to psychosurgery, is much like a blank slate upon whom the intricacies and intrigues of the book can be written. Delany shifts gears quickly to develop the interstellar culture by introducing Marq Dyeth, an "industrial diplomat" (that's a combination trade emissary, problem solver, and general consultant) and Marq's home on the planet Velm. This is a universe populated by humans and an alien race (described visually only in tantalizing nuggets) with whom humans have lived in cooperation for many generations. In this society, the words "she" and "her" describe sentients of both races and both genders; "he" and "him" have quite a different meaning entirely! The information culture on Marq's home planet is full of technological surprises (Delany has invented some unique replacements for encyclopedia and telephone) and Byzantine intrigues. On myriads of planets, proponents of two rival models for social and cultural development clash and contend for political and economic ascendancy; the flow of information between societies is controlled by an organization called the Web, sort of a meta-government with apparently unlimited resources. Cultural institutions, both alien and human, are put forth by Delany, shaken as if inside a gift box, examined, and dissected. Rat Korga, the slave, whose life consisted of rude meals, hovels, excrement, and rough sex, is thrust by events into the flashing-lights-and-computer-hookup world of the Web and its friends and enemies and collaborators and betrayers. Marq Dyeth, comfortable among his family (and what a family it is!) and home, has learned things that he may not wish to have learned, about the political realities of the civilization and about friends, new and old. As a comedy of manners, STARS IN MY POCKET LIKE GRAINS OF SAND is unassailable, though the manners and institutions dealt with are fictional and fanciful; as a technological sf novel it is among the best, in pure terms of speculation and invention. The academic and intellectual Delany supervenes over the dark and sordid one, so the novel is cerebral rather than visceral. But Delany could easily be the finest prose stylist writing in English today, inside or outside the sf genre. His language never fails to sparkle: in many passages, each word seems chosen like a crystal that, when struck exactly, will resonate with a clarity of tone and harmonic that suggest meanings and shadows of meaning only hinted at when the phrase is first read. Yes, it's THAT good. STARS IN MY POCKET LIKE GRAINS OF SAND is one of those rare books without a flaw or blemish. Had I been the editor, I would not have been able to find a single word to change or a passage that I'd refer to the author for clarification. However, not every such book is worthy of the praise that this one deserves; some are held back by their internal limitations. Not so here. Only an abject failure in THE SPLENDOR AND MISERY OF BODIES, OF CITIES, which will finish the tale begun in STARS IN MY POCKET, could possibly lessen Mr. Delany's achievement. Michael C. Berch mcb@lll-tis.ARPA {akgua,ihnp4,sun}!idi!lll-tis!mcb