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I think, at this point, any further delay of the review would be mere stalling.
The Gate to Women's Country, by Sheri S. Tepper, pub. 1988.
The first chapter of this novel was superb. It's a mesmerizing scene, one that introduces the main character, introduces the setting, and introduces the plot, all while maintaining suspense for the reader.
And then comes the flashback.
Now, I'm no novelist. I may have definitively established my status as a reader, but writing? I doubt I've even completed five 'typewritten pages' of honest-to-goodness fiction. ('Typewritten pages' is only a measurement of length, here. When it comes to literally written-on-a-typewriter fiction, I've only a page or two.) But even I know that flashbacks are a dangerous tool. And this book has too many.
The Gate to Women's Country is broken into two plotlines, and Tepper jumps between them throughout the book. I call them two plotlines, but that's inaccurate – each of them can be broken into many subthreads. But, fundamentally, the division into two is useful.
The first thread is something like a framing device. It is the one set in the "current time", the one on which the novel starts, and its chief focus is a play, "Iphigenia at Ilium". I say "the chief focus", rather than simply "the focus", because the play is not introduced into the story for several chapters. I say "the chief focus", rather than "a focus", because for much of the latter end of the book, the present-day thread consists entirely or almost-entirely of scenes from the play.
The second thread is the complex one. It is the series of flashbacks running the length of the book, and growing to dominate it as the story goes on. They aren't strictly flashbacks – at several points the viewpoint is moved to other characters – but they are all in the past. Initially, they are separated by years in time, but towards the end of the book, it becomes a single stream of events occurring in close succession. It is at this point that the flashbacks start breaking up into multiple viewpoints, as well.
Did you hear that? "Not introduced for several chapters", "for much of the latter end of the book", "growing to dominate it as the story goes on", "towards the end of the book" ... the book changes, and not in a good way. At the beginning, it is evenly split between the Stavia of the present and the Stavia of the past. At the end, it reads like a novel set in a particular part of that past, with multiple viewpoints on a series of events occurring around the same time. The beginning thread is reduced to single-page 'chapters' showing excerpts of the play.
Perhaps I am too harsh on this book. I will readily admit that the main plot, the one running through the flashbacks, is inventive and interesting. I will further concede that, on a chapter-by-chapter basis, the writing is pretty good, although it is weakened by poor transitions.
But the organization is too clumsy. There are too many extraneous elements. The ending falls flat. And however fascinating her world and characters may be, the book still disappointed me.
I still plan to read Grass and Beauty in the indefinite future. In the meantime, I will continue reading A Fire Upon the Deep, and probably continue enjoying it immensely. Vernor Vinge is very good.
The Gate to Women's Country, by Sheri S. Tepper, pub. 1988.
The first chapter of this novel was superb. It's a mesmerizing scene, one that introduces the main character, introduces the setting, and introduces the plot, all while maintaining suspense for the reader.
And then comes the flashback.
Now, I'm no novelist. I may have definitively established my status as a reader, but writing? I doubt I've even completed five 'typewritten pages' of honest-to-goodness fiction. ('Typewritten pages' is only a measurement of length, here. When it comes to literally written-on-a-typewriter fiction, I've only a page or two.) But even I know that flashbacks are a dangerous tool. And this book has too many.
The Gate to Women's Country is broken into two plotlines, and Tepper jumps between them throughout the book. I call them two plotlines, but that's inaccurate – each of them can be broken into many subthreads. But, fundamentally, the division into two is useful.
The first thread is something like a framing device. It is the one set in the "current time", the one on which the novel starts, and its chief focus is a play, "Iphigenia at Ilium". I say "the chief focus", rather than simply "the focus", because the play is not introduced into the story for several chapters. I say "the chief focus", rather than "a focus", because for much of the latter end of the book, the present-day thread consists entirely or almost-entirely of scenes from the play.
The second thread is the complex one. It is the series of flashbacks running the length of the book, and growing to dominate it as the story goes on. They aren't strictly flashbacks – at several points the viewpoint is moved to other characters – but they are all in the past. Initially, they are separated by years in time, but towards the end of the book, it becomes a single stream of events occurring in close succession. It is at this point that the flashbacks start breaking up into multiple viewpoints, as well.
Did you hear that? "Not introduced for several chapters", "for much of the latter end of the book", "growing to dominate it as the story goes on", "towards the end of the book" ... the book changes, and not in a good way. At the beginning, it is evenly split between the Stavia of the present and the Stavia of the past. At the end, it reads like a novel set in a particular part of that past, with multiple viewpoints on a series of events occurring around the same time. The beginning thread is reduced to single-page 'chapters' showing excerpts of the play.
Perhaps I am too harsh on this book. I will readily admit that the main plot, the one running through the flashbacks, is inventive and interesting. I will further concede that, on a chapter-by-chapter basis, the writing is pretty good, although it is weakened by poor transitions.
But the organization is too clumsy. There are too many extraneous elements. The ending falls flat. And however fascinating her world and characters may be, the book still disappointed me.
I still plan to read Grass and Beauty in the indefinite future. In the meantime, I will continue reading A Fire Upon the Deep, and probably continue enjoying it immensely. Vernor Vinge is very good.
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