Weasel Words

A Book Log

July 1, 2006

Calling Chris Claremont’s Uncanny X-Men Omnibus, vol. 1 a graphic novel doesn’t quite get across the scope of the thing. This isn’t just a compilation of a half-dozen issues, it’s a massive 800+ page hardcover compilation of over five years of comic books. The years in question are those starting from the revival of the X-Men with the familiar gang of mutant heroes — Wolverine, Storm, Colossus, and the whole bunch.

As a compilation, it’s first rate. Sturdily bound, attractively colored (I believe they redid the coloring so it’d look less stupid on modern printing methods, but it’s still very old-fashioned and heavy on the primary colors), and it even includes the original letter columns from the issues when they were published. The letters are a fascinating semi-historical look back at comic readers thirty years ago; it’s surprising to see how seriously everyone takes these books. People are writing these long, philosophical letters about feminism and whatever else, and it’s hard not to feel like they’re very consciously trying to prove that yes, this really is a valid art form for adults. (These days, of course, people who aren’t hopelessly backward simply take this as a given.)

As an actual story, it’s surprisingly strong, considering its age. This is from the period when superheroes fought a villain every month, spent most of their time exercising their powers in battle, and had their characterization taken care of by thought bubbles as they’re bopping around. Nobody’s going to confuse these stories with modern ones, for sure. But given the limitations of the day, they’re pretty darn good. The characters do have a full two dimensions to them, the plots are more involved than simple baddy-of-the-week stuff, and the writing (as purple as it is) is better than it needs to be. These may not be fully modern comics yet, but they’re recognizably of the same breed, and enjoyable to a modern comic reader in a way that most other books of this vintage just plain aren’t. They must have been superb at the time.

Recommended to any superhero fan — and certainly any X-Men fan — who wants to get more of a historical perspective while enjoying big battles with supervillains.

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July 1, 2006

Greg Egan’s Quarantine , like all his novels, is absolutely uncompromising in its philosophical outlook. Egan is a hard-core materialist, and will admit to no traces of spirituality or mysticism, which doesn’t just mean that there are no miracles and gods in his books — it means that his characters can’t win by sheer pluck and determination, that chemical compulsions in one’s brain actually alter a character’s motivation and desires, and so forth. This is bracing, in a very anti-Hollywood sense.

As for the plot of Quarantine, it sounds a heck of a lot like Wilson’s Spin — a sphere of unknown origin has gone up around the solar system, shutting out all the stars — but has very little in common. This is a private eye story set against a backdrop of nanotech neural modifications, dealing with a mystery that turns out to be something very different than it initially seemed.

Egan’s later fiction (Teranesia and Diaspora, at least) have been smugly preachy or coldly inhuman; Quarantine is neither of those, and combines excellent world-building with distinctive (albeit distinctively Egan-esue) characterization and interesting SFnal speculation. Highly recommended to people who like a big dose of science in their science fiction.

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