The saying goes that first impressions are the most important and lasting. When it comes to reading, this is countered by the idiom,“you can’t judge a book by its cover.” While most of us have been around long enough to know neither comment proves veracious enough to foster any practice of adhering to them, I must admit my initial glance at Tobias Buckell’s debut novel drew a fierce rage from me shortly followed by a moment of emblematic irony and pleasant surprise. An irate moment in reaching into the semi-moist envelope and discovering a water-damaged book – the pathological condition-freak in me reaching livid levels – forgotten, and turned into interest when noting the cover. My drenched book looked rather apt, bearing the title Crystal Rain, and on the cover was what looked to be a boat, yet one that was sailing though the air, and one of the occupants was dangling on the starboard edge, in one hand what looked to be a pistol, and in the other a hook where a hand should have been; and in the background flew colorful tropical birds – the background revealing a mountainous terrain. A first glance I almost missed – in what is perhaps a conditioned assumption – that the man bearing the hook had a tone to him, a different flavor, something seemed out of place, but indeed righteous…by gods, he was brown! As my own origins are of mixed descent, it is something I notice that very rarely do I see someone on the cover of a SF/F book who isn’t Anglo-centric. In a genre that often even depicts species described as obsidian black within the applicable content magically transformed into light gray by the time it’s filtered through an artist’s interpretation, I must say that my interest in reading Crystal Rain increased from my already existing anticipation stemming from being a frequent visitor to his blog, where there is always something either of relevance or interest – usually both. With more than mild enthusiasm I plunged in, my book’s lost vanity providing only a momentary and quickly forgotten distraction.
So what is Crystal Rain?
An accumulation of adventurous tropes, familiar to Dirk’s and Indiana’s alike, in a fantasy setting reminiscent of Barsoom, that hints at being a familiar but misplaced world, spiced with a science fiction element, including nanotech and the effects of a past war occurring in a not-too-distant technologically advanced past, that, accompanied with a sense of cultural recognition, perhaps exposes the author as fan of early Sterling efforts. The planet of Nanagada has the feel that it could have very easily been part of the Gaen Reach; it is a lost colony turned melting pot by the survivors and descendants of war that effectively isolated the planet and all of its inhabitants from a greater galactic community. A tenuous peace, or more aptly, a period lacking anything more than chance skirmishes, is put to an end as the Teotl, alien remnants from the past war posing as gods for the tribal Azteca, mobilize their followers for invasion. Separated by a natural barrier, and constantly patrolled by the mongoose men – a mix of bush scout/warrior units – the people of Capitol City are unaware that the Azteca have committed to a century-long project of bypassing the mountains. The invaders, with the element of surprise, sweep through the countryside toward the capital, reaving and sacrificing as they advance, displacing families and inhabitants in their wake.
‘The existence of forgetting has never been proved: We only know that some things don’t come to mind when we want them.’ – Friedrich Nietzsche
Nearly three decades ago a man was washed to shore and claimed a new life; even if shrouded in a dissociative fugue, he married and fathered a child. John deBrun did not recollect his past, and his amaranthine youth reflected that time itself neglected him from its memory even as it left its noticeable mark on everyone else. Separated from his family, he is captured and waiting to be sacrificed when he is rescued.
Oaxyctl, an Aztecan ‘quimchtin’ – meaning mice or mouse – is a term Mesoamerican’s used to denote a spy. His is a journey that is by far the most compelling of the novel. An operative given a mission by his god, he is told to find a man who carries the secret of the Ma Wi Jung. Pursued by his own people, he earns the man’s trust, finding brief moments of commonality with him in missing his home and family, and will accompany deBrun to Capitol City and beyond.
Capitol City awaits the invasion; a fractured government led by Dihana, the Prime Minister, and the veteran General Hadrian trade instances of distrust with each other and each with the vodounesque Loa, who, like the Teotl, are aliens who survived the cataclysm and who have resorted to hiding in the subterranean depth of Capitol City, from both the coming army, and their own shame in not preparing their followers adequately.
Pass the Pepper…
Another searches for deBrun. A spacecraft crashes down to earth, drawing the attention of Refojee-Ten hunters; they witness its lone occupant:
He wore a top hat, a long trench coat, and black boots. His eyes were gray, his dreadlocks black, and his face ashen. It was as if his man had not seen the sun in all his life, but was brown once.
Pepper is aptly named, the spice added to the sancocho Buckell is brewing. He has purpose. While John and Oaxyctl are given tasks, their path one that requires constant self-evaluation and reflective contemplation – a struggle within themselves – Pepper’s motivations are acted upon with no such digression. He knows more about deBrun than anyone alive; indeed he has known deBrun longer than most men have a right to live. He seeks not three wishes, but one, to find John, and the ruby reds the Ma Wi Jung represents, with perhaps a slight preference to instill those he encounters with a respect for their old fathers, when considering his ass-kicking display.
“Look! You see, The Cliffs of Insanity!” – Vizzini
On the whole, Buckell’s dialogue choices add to the exotic setting. A steampunk fantasy world where airships are the lasting echo of a greater technological past, where both aliens and humans stand stranded in a world that’s surviving legacy is a people of Caribbean flavor, with all the diversity that applies. The instances of the dialogue may seem a nuisance mostly borne of unfamiliarity at first, but assimilates into the act of reading 10 pages or so in. Some of the names seem odd choices; the multiple mentioning of the Wicked High Mountains at the beginning of the book may cause for hesitation, and sure the Ma Wi Jung sounds like something Jack Burton would find in the sewers of San Francisco, but don’t we all love Big Trouble In Little China? Sure, the dialogue could be tweaked, and at times – while I thought Oaxyctl served as the story’s vehicle for viewing humanity – he felt overextended, as Buckell used him in some manner to represent the possibility of a sympathetic quality in entire Aztecan nation, a condition that would have had more power if gifted with other examples. He seemed to wield too broad a stroke in this regard, bigger than the character, that sometimes drowned what is otherwise a very effective character struggling with his personal hierarchy of loyalty concerning his faith, family, friends, and home.
The book is a page-turner, a brisk fantastic adventure set in a greater SF backdrop. Although it has bunched instances of information-dumping in the latter portions of the novel that betrayed a need for greater space, they were not of the variety that draws maximum annoyance, as deBrun’s revelations serve to connect the dots on issues the reader essentially has figured out and thus serves as a bit of pat on the back to readers, effectively goading them to forget the manner delivered. The ending itself perhaps betrays the novel, seeming a bit hokey in execution, but what I found to be perhaps the most emotionally enduring segments of the novel were of Jerome, deBrun’s son, who is in a place of safety (but not from his thoughts of his family), and the revelations he learns of his father, and about the world’s past and his own future. Jerome evokes the most personal quality in the novel – a quiet time to ponder – during a time of world-changing events.
In the end, I view Buckell’s debut as a success; atmospherically piquant, and spry in its pace, it serves as both a fun jaunt and asks the question of what condition would drive a man purposely to murder himself, via killing his own past. Although at times the writing reveals Crystal Rain is Buckell’s first effort, it doesn’t have the effect of making one cringe at the very thought of more. A new author, who I think has some more tales to spin, whether connected to the timeline and/or setting of Crystal Rain or otherwise.
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Originally posted at the Bodhisattva in 2006
