Thursday, June 22, 2023

Book Review: "The Communist Manifesto" by Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels

The Communist Manifesto (1848)
Karl Marx (1818-1883)
Friedrich Engels (1820-1895)
418 pages

In the 20th century, Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels’ The Communist Manifesto achieved almost totemic status as the foundational treatise of the communist movement. But its fame – or for many notoriety – has extended far beyond the ranks of its readership. Aside from familiarity with a few particular phrases, such as its ominous opening line “A spectre is haunting Europe – the spectre of Communism,” for many the book remains more a symbol than a read text.

And, as a symbol, it has largely come to be defined by its connection to the Soviet system that grew out of the Russian revolution of 1917. Just as one can seemingly not question the sustainability of capitalism without being accused of preferring Soviet style communism (as though it’s the only alternative), the Manifesto as an expression of political and economic philosophy has become anchored to the totalitarian Soviet Union as representative of its inevitable outcome.

Wanting to move beyond both the view of the text as a symbol and its identification with the Soviet regime, I decided it was time to read it, and so gain an appreciation for Marx and Engels’s critique of the economic realities of mid-19th century Europe, and what specifically they proposed as an alternative.

As chance would have it, the bookstore I visited to find a copy of the book (shout out to Third Mind Books) had several editions. One that stood out was the Penguin Classics version: for a treatise I had understood to be perhaps a hundred pages with notes, I was surprised that this edition was over 400 pages long. The difference arises due to a roughly 300-page introduction by historian Gareth Stedman Jones, in which he describes the history of the collaborations and influences on Marx and Engels that culminated in the vision they brought to the Manifesto. While this prologue proved challenging at times, given I don’t have a background in philosophy, it nevertheless added critical background detail and context for understanding the Manifesto itself.

Stedman Jones opens by noting that a broad spectrum of present-day groups “appear to conclude that with the final overcoming of [the] challenge [to world capitalism by revolutionary socialism], the future progress of an unconstrained and fully globalized capitalism will proceed unimpeded.” (9) More trenchantly, he calls out “a certain strand of post-modernist writing … [by] French and American theorists who have concluded that because the class struggle over communism is over, history itself must have come to an end.” (10)

Such claims about the triumph of global capitalism based on the demise of the communist regimes of the 20th century demonstrate a fundamental misunderstanding (or, perhaps, willful misrepresentation) of history. And, Stedman Jones argues 

the best answer to this kind of post-modernism is to draw attention to the now forgotten sequence of events which resulted in the construction of the grand historical narrative associated with Marx. An investigation into the construction of the Manifesto can explain how this still compelling vision of the world was first stitched together. (10) 

In his Introduction, he makes clear, in fact, that it is as a compelling vision of the world that the book remains of powerful interest, rather than for its prescriptions. (Note that, while not ignoring Engels, Stedman Jones focuses primarily on the evolution of and influences to Marx’s thinking.)

By detailing the philosophical developments and debates that roiled Europe over the course of the 1800’s, as the Enlightenment of the 1700’s precipitated a long period of revolution and reaction, he demonstrates the origins and evolution of the communist movement and ultimately the conceptual framework behind the Manifesto. His acknowledgement that recounting and examining this background “requires the telling of a rather lengthy and complicated story” (10) makes clear then why the Introduction is three times the length of the work itself.  (Pankaj Mishra, in Age of Anger, explores the still unfolding social and cultural implications of the shift from feudal societies based on deference afforded lords and clergy, to the freedom and individualism triggered by the Enlightenment.)

Describing the origins of communist thinking, Stedman Jones notes that “Marxian Socialism in Germany … emerged from debates … about what should replace Christianity,” rather than in concerns with “industrialization or the social and political aspirations of industrial workers.” (10-11) He traces the path Marx and Engels’ thinking took from this focus on replacing Christianity to reaching the point of writing religion out of the Manifesto, instead inventing a “socio-economic” origin for the communist movement, built on the “outlook of the ‘proletariat’.”  The challenge becomes, however, that if we today ignore the “quasi-religious origins” of the development of the communist movement, it makes it harder to make sense of the similarities of “the passions, intransigence and extremism of twentieth-century revolutions to the religious wars of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.” (12-13)

Of numerous philosophers and their followers in the early to mid-1800’s championing the idea that Christianity had precipitated a social and economic crisis and looking to reverse this impact, one early influence on Marx to whom we are introduced is Ludwig Feuerbach. Feuerbach argued that 

the essentially ‘communal’ character of the human species was transformed by Christianity into the particular union of each individual with a personal external being, [making] religion … responsible for the individualism of modern society. (156) 

This engrained individualism paved the way for an economic system based on private property, as well as the modern state built to defend it. Rectifying this, Marx concluded, required recognizing that “religious freedom was by no means the same as freedom from religion;” understanding this, he felt, could lead people to shift back from being “egoistic individuals” to a “species being,” focused on the progress of all – a return to a communal outlook. (173)

For Marx however, the rise of private property did not represent a mistaken direction in humankind’s development; instead, according to Stedman Jones, Marx argued that “even if [progress for] ‘human life’ now required ‘the supersession of private property’, in the past it had required [the development of] ‘private property for its realization’.” (193)  Marx described pre-capitalist societies in which

the harmonization of resources and needs was effected by forces other than the market: by customary norms, by time-hallowed traditions and by political or religious institutions. In such societies, the institutions that regulated and organized production also tended to be responsible for the organization of all other aspects of life. These institutions regulated production to meet a pre-given and traditional set of needs. (272) 

Capitalism, then, represented a 

break[ing] free from this rigid and highly regulated framework …. It was [a] generalized freedom from the many forms of pre-capitalist institutional restraint that explained the enormous superiority of capitalism in forwarding human productive advance. For only capitalism had a built-in interest in the continuous expansion and proliferation of new needs. (272, my emphasis)


The productive advance that came with the rise of the bourgeoisie represented a step forward for humanity, Marx found, but only as a way point, not an end point. The new technologies and wealth creation that accompanied the development of the bourgeoisie could serve as a critical basis for the next step forward in the development of humankind: communism, a society in which the focus shifted back again to the common needs of humankind, as opposed to the selfish needs of individuals.

Marx’s goal, then, according to Stedman Jones, was to return to a concept of “use value” that had reigned in pre-capitalist societies, and so re-unite the economic with “other spheres of life.” (272) But now, with the benefit of the gains wrought by capitalism, Marx foresaw a world in which many, if not most, needs could be provided by the advanced productivity enabled by newly developed technologies.

In the opening section of the Manifesto, Marx provides an unsparing review of the consequences of the evolution from feudalism to the rise, hand-in-hand, of the modern bourgeoisie and modern modes of production and exchange – free market capitalism: “For exploitation, veiled by religious and political illusions, [the bourgeoisie] has substituted naked, shameless, direct, brutal exploitation.” (326) And, to promulgate and protect this crass exploitation, it has created the necessary governing structures, with “the executive of the modern State … but a committee for managing the common affairs of the whole bourgeoisie.” (326)

What today is referred to as globalization, Marx characterizes as a system in which “the need of a constantly expanding market for its product chases the bourgeoisie over the whole surface of the globe. It must nestle everywhere, settle everywhere, establish connexions everywhere.” (328) And he minces no words in observing how the bourgeoisie accomplished this, noting “the cheap prices of its commodities are the heavy artillery with which it batters down all Chinese walls … forces ‘the barbarians’ … to capitulate [and] creates a world after its own image.” (329)

For Marx, the bourgeoisie are those who own capital, own the means of production. The rest of the population, in order to support the insatiable growth of capital, become

the proletariat, the modern working class … a class of labourers, who live only so long as they find work, and who find work only so long as their labour increases capital …. [They] are a commodity, like every other article of commerce, and are consequently exposed to all the vicissitudes of competition, to all the fluctuations of the market. (332) 

The proletariat thus includes “small tradespeople, shopkeepers … the handicraftsmen and peasants … [whose] diminutive capital … is swamped in the competition with the large capitalists.” (334) And, eventually, expands to “every occupation hitherto honoured and looked up to with reverent awe … convert[ing] the physician, the lawyer, the priest, the poet, the man of science, into its paid wage-labourers.” (326)

Marx notes, however, that by creating such a large working class who do not share in the benefits of capital ownership, the bourgeoisie creates its own eventual demise, as the proletariat will finally rise up against the exploitation of those who benefit from their work: “What the bourgeoisie, therefore, produces, above all, is its own grave-diggers. Its fall and the victory of the proletariat are equally inevitable.” (341)

One could certainly question how, some 170 years later, this victory of the proletariat has failed to materialize. The historian Howard Zinn, in his ground-breaking work A People’s History of the United States, provides a hint at how the system has sustained itself, describing the elite as having learned in times of upheaval to give a little of what is demanded, just enough to pacify the restless rabble, and so hold onto power. He argues, too, that the elite learned how to co-opt support, as while the

poor could not be counted on a political allies of the government … there were more solid citizens … who might give steady support to the system … [including] a growing class of white-collar workers and professionals … who could be wooed enough and paid enough to consider themselves members of the bourgeois class, and to give support to that class in times of crises. (213-214, A People’s History of the United States)

In the second section of the Manifesto, Marx describes and defends the communist plans and program. These proposals include the well-known calls for “centralization” of credit, communication, transportation, and production, in “the hands of the State;” but also puts forth ideas now commonplace, such as “free education for all children in public schools [and] abolition of children’s factory labour.” (354-355) Although one can question the practicality of centralized economic control as a solution, Marx defends such approaches by calling forth the ramifications of the fundamental flaws of modern capitalism. And, while this communist prescription may not convince, the identification and description of the economic illness and it’s present-day consequences to our political and social stability surely does to anyone not blinded by their personal success in its current manifestation…

In fact, one can understand the draw of the Manifesto for those who read it. The identification of the success of modern capitalism in developing increasingly advanced means of economically beneficial production ring true with one’s experience and understanding of the past couple of centuries. But, so too do the many and fundamental flaws identified. The Manifesto, as Stedman Jones points out, has a “power” and a “rhetorical force” in calling out the failures of our present economic system that is undeniable for those willing to put aside their preconceived notions long enough to actually read it.


Other notes and information:

More quotes from this book


Have you read this book, others by this author, or even similar ones by other authors? I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts.
Other of my book reviews: FICTION Bookshelf and NON-FICTION Bookshelf

Saturday, May 13, 2023

Book Review: "Dune Messiah" by Frank Herbert

Dune Messiah (1969)
Frank Herbert (1920-1986)
337 pages

[Note: although I make it a point to not include spoilers in my reviews, this is the second book in a trilogy, and it's not possible to write about it without including some context from the earlier book, Dune. So, if you haven't read that yet, I suggest you jump back to my review of it, linked to from the title.]

Although Dune Messiah reads as an eminently worthy sequel to Frank Herbert’s epic Dune, a reader of the opening novel who ignored or dismissed its clear portents could perhaps be forgiven for balking at the significant shift in dramatic tone of its successor. And, if the comments in each book’s Introduction – and elsewhere – are representative, quite some number of readers have indeed had their expectations disappointed by the sequel.

Dune (my review linked to at right) tells the story of Paul Atreides, the son of the Duke who rules the planet of the book’s title. Paul has been schooled by his mother in the arts of the Bene Gesserit, an order that uses extreme mental and physical training to exert control over others; he has also had his skills enhanced by generations of genetic selection, and finally augmented by the Dune spice that gives prescience. In the wake of his father’s death in battle to forces of the Emperor of the galactic federation, Paul uses his extraordinary abilities to mobilize the subjugated, native Fremen of Dune, ultimately leading them to victory over the Emperor.

But the same foresight enabling his success also warns him of future dangers. Having played into deep-seated religious beliefs among the Fremen in order to rally them to his side and overthrow their enslavers on Dune, Paul has effectively created a ferocious Jihad in his name. His visions tell him that this Jihad will rise up to overrun many of the planets of the federation, consolidating his power as emperor and securing the Fremen’s new-found liberty. But, they also hint at the great difficulty he will face in controlling his followers, and so avoiding that the empire sinking into despairingly dark and violent chaos. Thus, while Dune reads as a thrilling adventure of political and military maneuvering, it reveals too the doubts and fears that plague Paul. And although it can be easy as a reader to gloss over Paul’s profound misgivings about what he has unleashed, for those who do, the shift in tone in the sequel then comes as a shock.

Dune Messiah opens some dozen years after Dune ends. As foreseen, Paul has gone from having defeated the Emperor on Dune to becoming Emperor of the federation of worlds. But the violence and death of the Fremen Jihad that has accomplished these victories troubles him deeply, as do the dystopic potential futures his prescience continues to reveal. His visions warn him too of a conspiracy that has arisen around him among those who lust for his power or have become disenchanted with the violence of his rule.

In the sequel, the concerns that occasionally plagued Paul in the first novel now come to dominate his thinking – and the story. In order to achieve peace and prosperity for the peoples of the federation’s many worlds, he must navigate around the myriad possible destructive futures that his action or inaction at certain moments could precipitate, a challenge complicated by the developing conspiracy. And he finds himself forced to manipulate even friends and family as he carefully plots a path toward a peaceful future, which further isolates him in his own thoughts. Thus, the story comes to be focused on Paul’s preoccupations with his cryptic visions.

Herbert alternates chapters between Paul sinking into his ruminations, and the scheming of the group fomenting the conspiracy against him. These two storylines then come crashing together in the final portion of the novel, as the planning of the conspirators and Paul’s maneuvering in response come to a head. Finally the pace quickens, and a bit of the thrilling ride that propels much of the first novel returns.

In the light of its sequel, Dune can be seen as a kind of an extended preface, setting up the critical questions Herbert then tackles in Dune Messiah: the dangers of personality cults for even the most beneficent of rulers, and the challenge of not only achieving but more pointedly maintaining good governance, even when given significant awareness of how the future could play out and some idea of the impacts of the options one has.

It is not simply that power corrupts, Herbert seems to say: more damaging is that the lust for power corrupts, and so even the best ruler will struggle to maintain a constructive, peaceful course in the face of those arrayed against them. And Paul comes to realize that the paths that deviate off into darkness are so many many more, relative to those that remain in the light, and ultimately that avoiding a dystopic future can require great personal sacrifice.

Herbert also points to the challenges of governing in the face of the broad range of motivations and misunderstandings of the general population, which can be as challenging for a ruler to navigate, if not perhaps more so, than concrete, willful opposition. For the opinion of the masses can shift against a ruler suddenly, and for unpredictable reasons, undermining even the best-intentioned plans with little warning.

Dune Messiah lacks the action and thrills of Dune, but with the shift to a plot that plays out on a more contemplative plane, the result is also a more nuanced story. Rallying forces to overcome and conquer can sometimes be successfully accomplished by a ruler; but then comes the challenge of transitioning those same forces to a more peaceful, stable and sustainable path, without losing one’s mandate to lead.


Other notes and information:


Have you read this book, others by this author, or even similar ones by other authors? I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts.
Other of my book reviews: FICTION Bookshelf and NON-FICTION Bookshelf

Sunday, April 2, 2023

Book Review: "Personal Recollections of Vincent van Gogh" by Elisabeth Duquesne van Gogh

Personal Recollections of Vincent van Gogh (1913)
Elisabeth Duquesne van Gogh (1859-1936)
58 pages

The paintings of Vincent van Gogh have a distinctive style that is instantly recognizable, and a brilliance of color and richness of theme that has made him arguably one of the most well-known and popular painters in history. Typical portrayals of van Gogh’s life and personality, however, have often seemed narrowly drawn – caricatures of a troubled, obsessive, and perhaps slightly mad, artist.

Van Gogh’s sister, Elisabeth Duquesne van Gogh strove to change that view of her brother in her memoir Personal Recollections of Vincent van Gogh, by providing a more nuanced and intimate portrait. Written some two decades after his death, her essay describes her memories of growing up with her mercurial brother, from their time together as children in rural Netherlands to his repeated retreating back home after yet another attempt at a career or studies that he in the end couldn’t abide.

As the title makes evident, her book does not represent a full biography of her brother – she focuses mostly on the periods when he lived at home, as well as what she learned from the letters he sent to his family while away. Once he became fully engaged in painting – “Art was his first and only love” (37) – she saw little of him, and in the final chapters summarizes his development as an artist based largely on his now famous correspondence with his brother Theo, and what she finds revealed in the evolution of his paintings.

Elisabeth does not sugar-coat her brother’s struggles, acknowledging a shyness that made him appear aloof, an anguish at the misery and poverty he witnessed among peasants that led him to extreme self-sacrifice, and a constant bridling against the constraints and limitations of the various vocations he tried that left him constantly dependent on familial support. But, for the most part, she has written a paean to a brother she clearly adored, while lamenting what she sees as his misunderstood genius, particularly from her perspective of watching his fame finally blossom in the years after his death, after he had sold but one painting during his lifetime.

Through surely biased by her love for her brother, her remembrances paint a much more human portrait of him than exists in the popular imagination. We discover a young man who after long searching for direction finally found an outlet for his energy and vision, leading to works that were critically – and at times violently – panned during his lifetime, but that would eventually come to be recognized for a profound brilliance still admired today.


Other notes and information:


Have you read this book, others by this author, or even similar ones by other authors? I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts.
Other of my book reviews: FICTION Bookshelf and NON-FICTION Bookshelf

Saturday, April 1, 2023

Exaltation 1: raise your voice in song

At a recent elementary school assembly for National African American Parent Involvement Day, each grade level performed a song or a poem together.  All the performances were well prepared and well done, but I found the call and response rendition of the song “Sing About Martin” by the pre-5 class particularly moving.  I was so taken by it, in fact, that I’ve shared the video of it made by the school principal with family and friends, and even now, when I watch it again for the umpteenth time, it brings tears to my eyes.

As you watch it, at the link below, imagine the scene: these little ones up in front of all of their schoolmates, all of the school’s teachers and staff, and many, many parents, their voices strong and clear – no fear, standing tall, filling the room with their powerful song.




Elsewhere on this blog, I have a series of Lamentations, documenting moments – especially in what I've read – that have generated for me a profound sense melancholy and sorrow.

But, there are moments of joy and awe, too, and this is the first of what I expect will be a series of Exaltations.


(The introduction to the Lamentations series can be found here, and links to the complete series here.)

Saturday, March 25, 2023

Book Review: "Silverview" by John Le Carré

Silverview (2021)
John Le Carré (1931-2020)
215 pages

Typical espionage novels thrill with cat and mouse action, as seasoned spies carry out fraught missions in foreign lands or seek to protect their homeland from the clandestine activities of probing foreign counterparts. Although the protagonists may question the goals and means and orders of their superiors, in the end they generally serve the mandate of their organization, in spirit at least, if not too the letter. And, whether they have a cynical and hard-bitten or calm and debonair nature, they generally do so at the apparent sacrifice of their relationships and a normal life, at best connected closely to only some few of their colleagues.

But at what cost?

John Le Carré turns to this question in his final novel, Silverview, published shortly after his death. No cold war or great power conflict motivates the plot; instead, Le Carré explores the manifold impacts of a life of espionage on a spy and his family, and how the institution he serves deals with the consequences when those impacts lead him to question his vocation.

The story develops around two men on opposite sides of the stark divide between the public and the organizations charged with protecting their safety: Julian Lawndsley, who has recently left the hectic life of a job in London’s financial district to open a small bookshop in a coastal village in south-eastern England, and Stewart Proctor, a high ranking official in England’s security services.

Into Julian’s quiet shop appears one evening an unusual customer – an older man, Edward, who takes an active interest in Julian and his store, and who eventually reveals that he knew Julian’s father while at university. Although Julian has his suspicions about this new customer and his sudden interest in the shop, readers realize early on that Edward is, if not with certainty a spy, then at a minimum actively of interest to Stewart as he pursues a Domestic Security case.

Chapters alternate between Julian’s interactions with Edward, and Stewart’s prosecution of his investigation. Instead of the white-hot, non-stop thrills of a standard spy novel, here Le Carré ratchets up the tension only slowly, deliberately. Julian, despite his concerns, allows himself to be drawn into Edward’s orbit, enticed by the mystery and hint of risk that perhaps fills a void created by having given up the excitement of a job in the financial markets. And Stewart, for his part, can trust no one but his superiors with even the motivations for his investigation; forced to play a delicate dance around the truth even with his colleagues, Steward struggles to discover the truth about Edward, and determine the danger he may pose.

It becomes clear, however, that Le Carré’s after more introspective concerns here than the potentially explosive danger of a traitorous double agent. Instead, through the character of Edward, he explores how the same intelligence and talent necessary for someone to serve a successful career in espionage can lead them to eventually become undone by their experiences, and so to begin to profoundly question the duty they had dedicated their life to – and the challenge that this can pose for a service requiring absolute loyalty to the cause.


Other notes and information:


Have you read this book, others by this author, or even similar ones by other authors? I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts.
Other of my book reviews: FICTION Bookshelf and NON-FICTION Bookshelf

Saturday, March 11, 2023

Book Review: "The Home Place" by J. Drew Lanham

The Home Place (2016)
J. Drew Lanham
217 pages

In The Home Place, J. Drew Lanham reflects on the deep and abiding love of the natural world that he developed growing up in western South Carolina. More poignantly, he goes on to explore the realities of American society that confronted him when he embraced this passion as a career, as captured by the book’s subtitle: Memoirs of a Colored Man’s Love Affair with Nature. (Emphasis in the original, as can be seen in the cover photo at left.)

Lanham spends the first half of the book describing his up-bringing on his family’s homestead – the Home Place of the title – a mix of farmland and forest. He writes loving portraits of his parents, and of his grandmother, who had a separate house on the Home Place, and with whom he lived for much of his youth. His parents taught in the local school system and farmed the land of the Home Place, a combination of occupations that helped instill in their son a passion for observing and understanding the natural world. His grandmother’s more visceral connection to the flora and fauna of the Home Place clearly also hoped awakened in Lanham a profound awareness of the world’s wonder and mystery.

At Clemson University, Lanham first studied Mechanical Engineering. But the truth will out, and in his junior year, he notes “I … reversed the course of my destiny,” (138) shifting focus to the biological sciences building on campus, and a path that eventually led to doctoral studies in Ornithology and a position as an Alumni Distinguished Professor of Wildlife Ecology at Clemson.

The courage to make such a dramatic shift presages his ability to deal with the challenges that he came to encounter with his new vocation, and that he describes in moderate but resolute prose in the second half of his memoir. Moving beyond the borders and familial security of the Home Place to pursue his research in the natural world, he discovers wonders aplenty, “moved to tears by the beauty of snow capped peaks” (178) and “devoured by remnant forests that from far away look uniformly verdant but from within are every shade of green imaginable … a living breathing thing.” (179) Unfortunately, however, these marvels come paired with an uglier side, and not simply the threat from grizzly bears and wolves. As innocuous as birding might appear at first glance, Lanham discovers the profoundly disquieting reality of, as one of his chapter titles labels it, Birding While Black.

At times these dangers and associated fears have concrete form. But perhaps more damaging is the constant mental distraction of feeling that one stands out, in situations which someone who is white would not give a second, or even first, thought. It's an experience Cathy Park Hong refers to as

minor feelings in her eponymously titled book,

the racialized range of emotions that are negative, dysphoric, and therefore untelegenic, built from the sediments of everyday racial experience and the irritant of having one’s perception of reality constantly questioned or dismissed. Minor feelings arise, for instance, upon hearing a slight, knowing it’s racial, and being told, Oh, that’s all in your head. (55, Minor Feelings, my review linked to at right)

Hong goes on to describe the crazy-making reality of wondering whether her concerns are real in any given moment or encounter. Lanham asks similar questions, including in situations in which getting it wrong could have a deadly result, the stakes raising one’s thoughts to an exhaustingly persistent fever pitch.

And so, a memoir about Lanham’s profound love of nature becomes a clear-eyed, powerful revelation of race relations and experiences in America today. It can be easy for the majority to assume that the civil rights movement resolved these issues, that they are now largely things of the past; certainly, one shouldn’t ignore the advances that have been made since the middle of the 20th century. But Lanham’s memoir makes clear, as does Hong’s and a deafening drumbeat of other personal accounts and stories and images, that much work remains to be done to get to a uniform level of life experience without fear. Ignoring or dismissing that reality will only extend the time required to shift American society to a better, more socially sustainable place for all.


Other notes and information:
I first heard of Lanham, and his book, in his wonderful interview with Krista Tippett for her program On Being.

Have you read this book, others by this author, or even similar ones by other authors? I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts.
Other of my book reviews: FICTION Bookshelf and NON-FICTION Bookshelf

Saturday, March 4, 2023

Book Review: "Stories of Your Life and Others" by Ted Chiang

Stories of Your Life and Others (2002)
Ted Chiang (1967)
285 pages

For his collection Stories of Your Life and Others, Ted Chiang has crafted eight mesmerizing gems. Each story draws readers into a meticulously constructed, deeply convincing world, with plots that build deliberately but surely to a fever pitch.

Though they qualify as science fiction, Chiang centers his stories around a solid foundation of science fact and philosophical tradition. The science fiction aspects then motivate the action, a means through which to explore the vagaries and vicissitudes of human life, our strivings for both good and ill. His mastery and incorporation of the science will particularly thrill readers with a scientific or engineering background and interest, even those who normally avoid science fiction, while leaving the stories still accessible to a lay audience.

In the opening story, Tower of Babylon, groups of miners converge on the famous tower, which has reached the rocky surface of the vault of heaven, far above the dusty Middle Eastern plain. The miners have been asked to ascend to the far distant top of the tower, and then mine upwards through the rock to open a passage into heaven. Referencing the mysteries of ancient texts and traditions, Chiang explores humankind’s longing to reach for what lies beyond our understanding, the potent pull of the unknown on our imagination.

Another ancient tradition, the Christian doctrine of divine nomenclature, lies at the heart of Seventy-Two Letters. Set in the 1800’s, the story describes scientists exploring the possibilities and limits of animating objects by giving them particular names, developing a secular physics of nomenclature. What appears to be a kind of alternative history, however, suddenly transforms into a much more complex vision of physical reality. (I’ve little doubt that readers with a deeper understanding of biology will experience that realization rather earlier in the story than I did…)

The book’s title piece will be familiar to many readers as the basis for the film Arrival. Asked to try to communicate to aliens through a kind of portal they’ve placed on earth, a professor of linguistics discovers that they have a less linear, more comprehensive view of past, present, and future, and that they have reflected that in the structure of their language. The intensity of her engagement as she learns their language gradually begins to shift her concept of reality, causing her to rethink events in her own life. As well done as the movie is, this original story allows readers a more profound understanding of the main character’s mindset and transformation.

I came to Stories of Your Life and Others backwards in a sense, having already read Chiang’s marvelous, more recent collection Exhalation. (A link to my review at right.)  Although wildly different in themes, the two sets of stories share a distinctive sensibility, as well as a dedication to the wonders and mysteries of science and ancient traditions, stretched and bent just a bit through Chiang’s imagination to create marvelously engaging works that explore our human condition. Don’t miss them, even if you are not normally a science fiction fan!


Other notes and information:


Have you read this book, others by this author, or even similar ones by other authors? I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts.
Other of my book reviews: FICTION Bookshelf and NON-FICTION Bookshelf