I read Kim Stanley Robinson’s Red Mars some time ago. I should have written it up then, while it was still fresh in my mind, but I was hoping to find something interesting enough to say about it to do it justice. I never did. However, it’s such a good book that I have to at least mention it, if only to say: it’s really good, read it!
But I’ll try and think of something more …
Firstly: it’s a big book; a massive 668-page brick (and the first of a trilogy, of course). But it’s big in every way: truly epic. It tells the story of an entire planet: that’s not something that can be done in a slim 160-page novel. And it really tries to do it justice - and succeeds. It’s rich with vivid descriptions of the red, dead world.
Yet for all its size, it’s a very human book. You see the planet, its colonisation, its increasingly fraught relationship with Earth, through the eyes of several complex characters (some of them more likeable than others – but all the more believable for it). And despite the scale and power of Mars itself, ultimately its fate appears to rest on the relationships between these few humans.
I also loved it for the science. Though optimistic (e.g. in its speed and ease), most of it seems plausible. Some of it has already happened, or is on the verge of happening (e.g. the genetic engineering of Martian-adapted organisms – take a look at Craig Venter’s work on synthetic genomes). Some people might find it dry, but the attention to detail – the seemingly laborious description of technical details, of geology, of environmental engineering – seems appropriate given that almost all of the book’s narrators are scientists. And of course, a planet covered in dust, and where all the water is frozen, is likely to be a little dry at first … (groan).
The human story is optimistic too. It might not seem that way, given events towards the end, but I think in reality we’d be unlikely to get that far. I came away with the impression that the book is a cautious love-letter to humanity and science.
The third facet that impressed me (perhaps the place where its science and humanity meets), is the political depth of the book. It is quite scathing at times in its depiction of capitalism - e.g. the "Transnats" - hugely powerful corporations which want to exploit Mars' resources.
I was amused and interested to read the description of “eco-economics”, seeming as it’s something that I’ve often thought myself. As an ecology student, I’m sure I’m biased; but reduced down, ecology is only physics: energy exchange in complex systems. Reduced down, this is all anything is. And so it seems like a much sounder foundation for economic theory than political philosophy. After all, you can’t get more out of a system than you put in. Endless growth is called cancer. But shareholders aren’t happy unless each year’s profit is greater than the last. Do they see that as sustainable?
Anyway. Where was I?
Oh yes: Red Mars: it’s really good, read it!
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2 comments:
Wow, you're really on a roll! I didn't expect this, but I'm happy to read and respond.
In terms of technology, the main stepping stone at the outset was for me the most optimistic, and a real hurdle to accept, but after that things became near-future believable. The potential wonders of nanotechnology are still hazy, but the space elevator is for me more likely than items materialised on demand, for being a single clear and modular goal.
I also liked the attempts at unexpected detail, like the fine dust getting everywhere, and this reflecting the planet getting under the skin.
The depth was the stunning thing. Although a future history will always be only one possible route, more or less reasonable, politics ought to be a little more predictable. Here they are, for the nature of the enterprise, the living into the planet and going native. Details I don't recall, but I'd be interested to delve back into how the book deals with the ethical problems of terraforming.
I agree on the love letter. I'm not completely in love, but I can feel the high spirits.
Your final paragraph has the purity of that epigenetics clarification. Maybe it's just the purity of nature underlying all, in which case you're well in touch.
Thanks, though I expect my blogging will dry up some when work, uni and volunteering start again tomorrow.
I liked the dust descriptions too. Reminds me of the bit in Anthony Swofford's Jarhead where he's talking about the sand.
It does spend quite a bit of time on the ethics of terraforming - using one of the scientists who is dead against it to draw out the controversy - analogous, to some extent, of conservation ethics here on earth, but in a more focused way, I guess. It's a clearer argument where the picture's simpler.
I'm glad you settled on purity and not naivety ... ;)
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