Polygon, 2006, 458 p, plus iv p Introduction by David Pratt. First published in 1961.

The novels by Jenkins I have read so far have always been situated in Scotland so this one, set among the British diplomatic community in Kabul in the late 50s, marks a digression. (Jenkins did spend some in Afghanistan himself in the mid to late 50s and on the evidence here had a good insight into the country as he displays some sympathy for Afghans and their customs.)

The meat of the story is in the flurry caused by the intended marriage between local Abdul Wahab and Briton Laura Johnstone who met while he was studying in Manchester and apparently fell in love. The British set in Kabul is disturbed since the precedents for such marriages have not been happy ones. (They do mostly though seem to have been between relatively naïve young Englishwomen and Afghans who have misrepresented themselves as rich before the marriage.) One such, Mrs Mohebzada, is in despair due to her husband’s family’s insistence on her conforming to Afghan customs. She is trapped as she loves her children but they are deemed by Afghan law to be Afghani citizens and so not allowed to exit the country. Laura however is over thirty and a teacher so liable to be more level headed than most. And perhaps more strong-willed.

The universal consensus among the ex-pats is that the marriage must be prevented and steps are taken to dissuade Laura and also to lean on the headteacher of the school where she has applied to teach to turn her down and on the Afghan authorities not to give her a visa. Nevertheless, Laura persists and embarks on her visit (at first intended to be only for six months to see if she takes to the place.)

On the Aghan side Prince Naim sees the marriage as a way to symbolise a union between East and West as a step to modernising Afghanistan. All this has the potential to feed into debate about whether the women’s full body covering, here called a shaddry, enforced for locals but not for Westerners, ought to be abolished. An Islamic cleric, Mojedaji, at one point voices the opinion that, if it is, there will as a consequence be an increase in rape. (Aside. Surely this attitude speaks more about men’s behaviour than of women.) A shadowy but potentially menacing organisation called the Brotherhood attempts to recruit Wahab to its ranks – an opportunity for advancement he grabs eagerly.

Meanwhile in the background, and by no means the novel’s focus, the influence on the country of the Soviet Union is growing. A diplomatic visit by Minister Voroshilov is intermittently referenced through the book.

Racism explicit and implicit runs through the tale. Englishwoman Mrs Massaour is married to a Lebanese man and feels betrayed by the fact that both her children are deeper black than her husband. The loving marriage of journalist and poet Harold Moffatt and Lan, a woman of Chinese origin, is threatened by his reluctance to have children because of the prejudice they will suffer as ‘half-castes’.

Jenkins has Mrs Massaour venture the thought of the characteristic British failing – obtuseness, the centuries-old irremovable unawareness that other people in other countries ordered some things better. (In some British people the obtuseness was aggravated by conceit.) This is an attitude that still prevails in certain quarters.

Moffat says to his wife in relation to racism, “birds and animals join together to mob to death one that’s different from the rest. Human beings are civilized; their killing’s more subtly done, and it takes longer. It may take a lifetime, but, Christ, how much crueller it is”

The complicated relation between the British in Kabul and the local population is illustrated by the extravagant celebration of the anniversary (complete with captured guns) of an Afghan victory over the British. Such entanglements are hard to shake off especially if they keep recurring. The seeds of Afghanistan’s current situation are already present in the book.

Dust on the Paw (the title is a quote which means small people are of no significance to the wielders of power) is a book of its time – for example it employs the words Negroes, Dagos and wog along with the racist attitudes of some of its characters – but still of interest.

Pedant’s corner:- In the Introduction – “wracked by the war” (racked,) Jenkins’ (x 4, Jenkins’s,) “ex-patriot community” (ex-patriate, an ex-patriot would have foresworn their country, not clung to its ways,) iIt (It.) In the text itself: Mossaour (the spelling seems to be interchangeable with Massaour.) “‘Didn’t you use to have contempt for’” (Didn’t you used to have,) repuslive (repulsive,) “the lioness’ instinct” (x 2, lioness instinct, it doesn’t need the apostrophe – which would require an s after it in any case,) woe-begone (woebegone,) sanitorium (sanatorium; sanatoria was on the next page,) a missing quotation mark at the end of a piece of direct speech,) “stanchly borne loneliness” (staunchly borne,) Moffett (elsewhere Moffatt,) insect (it was a scorpion, they are arachnids,) solider (soldier.)

I was sad to read that while I was away in The Netherlands Scottish poet and novelist John Burnside has died.

I only knew him through his prose, which I first came across through the inclusion on that list of the 100 Best Scottish Books (nearly all of which I have now read) of his novel Living Nowhere. After reading that I bought his other fiction books whenever I happened upon them. I have reviewed those I have read here, here, here and here. Every single one is excellent.

John Burnside: 19/3/1955 – 29/5/2024. So it goes.

Polygon, 2018, 93 p, plus iv p General Foreword to this reprinting of Spark’s works and xii p Introduction by Dan Gunn. First published in 1971.

The events of this novella all take place over one night in the villa by Lake Leman in Switzerland owned by Baron and Baroness Klopstock.

Well, I say events, but the most significant happens off-stage, in the room where the Baron, the Baroness and their visitor, Victor Passerat, are closeted, with strict instructions not to be disturbed.

The butler, Lister, and all the servants seem to know what that event will be and act as if it is by force majeure, that there is nothing they can do to prevent it. Lister indeed insists that they must follow the script, as if they are acting in a film. In the meantime they are recording (onto a reel-to-reel tape recorder) their stories of the night.

Dan Gunn in his introduction says that the normal fear of the author of such things is in including spoilers is vitiated in this case by Spark herself having Lister tell his below stairs audience what will happen. “‘Let us not split hairs’” he says, “‘between the past, present and future tenses.’” Gunn goes on to ruminate on the difference between literature in French and English in this regard. The former has more or less dropped the preterite (the passé simple) in favour of the present perfect tense, whereas in English that can quickly become stilted and unsustainable. It is, he says, merely a heightened example of Spark’s eschewing of plain foreshadowing in favour of outright prolepsis, (see my comments on possible prolepsis in The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie) the novel an example of meta-fiction before that term was coined.

Be that as it may, the result here, along with the distancing effect of the present tense narration, is to make the reader simply not care what happens. If there is no jeopardy, or the jeopardy cannot be combatted, why should we carry on reading? I would go so far as to say that adopting such an approach is a dereliction of duty on the part of the author.

This novel encapsulates my reservations about Spark’s writing, which I once described as reading through a layer of glass.  Make that opaque glass.

With the possible exception of the mad man in the attic the characters are fairly unconvincing and their manners of speech indistinguishable. No one in this book behaves in any rational way. It is simply unbelievable.

Spark does, though, does essay the punning observation “Klopstock and barrel.”

I had thought to read all of Spark’s fiction in time. The more I do the less I feel like doing so.

Pedant’s corner:- “routing among the vegetables” (rooting among,) a missing comma before a piece of direct speech, scyth (scythe.)

Warner Books, 1975, 140 p.

In this sometime future, humankind has suffered many emergencies – among them a population crisis. Eventually, due to contributions from two people now known only as Him and Her, it settled on what is called Solution Three. To filter out aggression, heterosexual reproduction has been replaced – at least in the mega-cities – by clones of Him and Her. Clone Mums look after these children until they are old enough for strengthening, a process intended to replicate the stresses and strains of the lives of Him and Her and meant to lead the children to wisdom but about which they afterwards do not speak.

In this society, overseen by The Council, heterosexual sex is regarded as an obscenity except for within a group known as the Professorials and for those living in remote communities.

As one character explains, before Solution Three “Inter-sexual love, resulting in the birth of children, had been necessary. When it not only ceased to be necessary, but was seen as a menace, then the logic of history made itself felt. That age-old sexual aggression changed to non-aggressive love of man for man and woman for woman, overt aggression dropped” in the same curve as population did.

Further science-fictional gloss is provided by references to spray-on clothes but for trips outwith the mega-cities fabric ones are to be preferred.

What plot there is centres around a problem with cereal crops in Asia. Use of particular strains to the exclusion of others means that the food production system may not be robust. This leads to some of the characters beginning to question whether relying on the clones for the future of humanity may not be altogether wise.

As in Mitchison’s only other foray into SF which I have read, Memoirs of a Spacewoman, (and in contrast to her historical and Scottish fiction) there is again too much telling and not enough showing. Another of her SF works, Not by Bread Alone, is on my tbr pile. Will it suffer similarly?

Pedant’s corner:- “certain funguses” (fungi,) “Monte Video” (is this an old spelling of Montevideo?) “koala bears” (now called koalas, since they’re not bears,) “bath rooms” (bathrooms?) a missing end quote mark. chupatties (now spelled chapattis.) “Jean murmured, You’re forgetting’.” (Jean murmured, ‘You’re forgetting.’) “For a minute of two” (a minute or two,) elment (element,) “been dealth with” (dealt with.)

Harvill Secker, 2019, 234 p, including 2p Contents and 2 p Acknowledgements.

This is Logan’s latest solo collection of stories, her first, The Rental Heart and other fairytales, I reviewed here. I have also read her novels The Gracekeepers and The Gloaming.

The stories here are chiefly burdened with overly long titles eg Birds Fell From the Sky and Each One Spoke in Your Voice or We Can Make Something Between the Mushrooms and the Snow. As the title implies the subject matter tends to be dark. On the whole the collection is tinged with magic realism or outright fantasy and often tips over into horror.

The stories are prefaced and interspersed with what at first appear to be authorial interjections about the circumstances of writing the book and the author’s private life but these short passages soon evolve into what is obviously as much of a fiction as the stories which surround and envelop them.

The book is divided into three sections: The House, The Child and The Past. The first story in each is composed of four short pieces labelled respectively First Fear, Second Fear, Third Fear, and Fourth Fear but most of the stories deal with fear of one sort or another. These fears tend to be female concerns: childbirth and the things attendant on it (apprehensions about what is gestating, what has appeared, is the child safe and well? Am I a good enough mother?) abduction, rape, domestic restriction. One, about seeing a Punch and Judy Show and recognising its hideousness, is told almost entirely by way of footnotes. Another takes the form of a questionnaire – including its rubric. Another alludes to the story of Snow White but takes it in an even darker direction.

From my experience of her writing so far (see links above) Logan presents herself best, as here, at short story length.

Pedant’s corner:- “and fold it on itself” (‘fold in on itself’ makes more sense,) “for heaven’s sakes” (is USian. Britons say ‘for heaven’s sake’,) “into his screeching maw” (stomachs don’t shriek,) “aren’t I?” (Scots say ‘amn’t I?)

Picador, 2022, 397 p.

This, Stuart’s second novel, is running over much of the same ground as his first, Shuggie Bain. Again we have a mother who is neglectful due to being an alcoholic, and her three children, of whom, here, like Shuggie, Mungo is the youngest. As Shuggie did Mungo has an older brother and sister, in Mungo’s case Hamish (Ha-Ha) and Jodie respectively. Unlike in that first novel the narrative of Young Mungo does not focus on the mother, here Maureen Hamilton, who, because she wants to feel she is still young herself, that she still has a chance in life, insists on being called Mo-Maw rather than Maw, but is mostly seen from Mungo’s viewpoint. The only exceptions to this are passages relating to Jodie’s brief hours of escape from feeling responsible for Mungo – with a married man, one of her teachers no less, not much of an escape – and a brief relation of a telephone call by one of Mungo’s tormentors to his own estranged family.

Mungo is devoted to his mother a fact which Jodie in particular finds irritating. He is also unsure of how to be a man. Perhaps as an indicator of Mungo’s uncertainty Stuart has given him a nervous itch on his face, an itch he keeps scratching.

The novel as a whole is composed of two intermittently interweaved strands which recount events in “The May After” and “The December Before.” The setting is Glasgow sometime in the mid-1980s – Jodie mentions the AIDS epidemic.

In “The May After” Mungo has gone on a fishing trip up north with two men known as Gallowgate and St John. Mo-Maw consented to this as an attempt to toughen Mungo up, to make a man of him. The fact that she knew little of these two, having only met them at Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, does not bother her until too late. They take the bus north, soon coming upon “the green hills of Dumbarton.” Well, yes. Compared to Glasgow Dumbarton is green – or the green around it is more easily perceived.

“The December Before” is more the core of the book, describing Mungo’s daily life, tholing Mo-Maw’s prolonged absences from their house, making do as best he can with the help of Jodie’s administrations, his meeting with James Jamieson, who has a doocot on a scrap of waste ground backing onto a motorway, the constant chiding by Hamish (who is the local young hardman) to be more like him. Ironically it is the trip north which does that.

The inhabitants of the close where the Hamiltons live, put-upon Mrs Campbell in the flat below and Poor-Wee-Chickie on the ground floor, the latter the subject of suspicion as being thought to be gay and likely a child molester but who doesn’t care about that, are both kind souls, looking out for Mungo and Jodie. It was in December that Mungo met James and the pair began their friendship which soon grows into something deeper and to which Hamish takes great exception. For two reasons, James is Catholic and Hamish hates them (though he can’t articulate why, only that meting out violence in their direction is fun) but more importantly any hint of Mungo liking boys will reflect badly on Hamish’s standing.

A sentence describes those from more fortunate areas of Glasgow, “Middle-class Glaswegians had no loyalty, when it suited them they draped the city about themselves like a trendy jacket but they knew none of its chill, none of its need. These Glaswegians were acceptably foreign and endlessly entertaining to the English.”

Stuart writes well, his prose is well above serviceable, but I was less enamoured with the violence portrayed. Moreover, the similarities between Young Mungo and Shuggie Bain tend to detract from the impact of either book. In his next book Stuart really needs to break free from the template he has used in his first two.

The cover actually does this book a disservice. The two youngsters kissing have too much facial hair to match the description of Mungo in the novel and the kiss is more passionate, much more uninhibited, than anything that occurs between Mungo and James in the text.

Sensitivity note. Refers to “the Paki shop,” but people did in the 1980s.

Pedant’s corner:- “inside of” (just inside, no ‘of’,) skillful (USian, the British spelling is skilful,) ball-peen hammer (more often spelled ball-pein.) “Other’s didn’t like the way” (Others didn’t like..,) snuck (sneaked,) “by her stocking feet” (stockinged feet,) fit (fitted,) “as his eyes slid towards to the soundless television” (either ‘towards’ or ‘to’; not ‘towards to’,) sprung (sprang,) “Stanley knifes” (Stanley knives,) a missing comma before a piece of direct speech, “had to tilt his head backwards to breath” (to breathe,) “trying to make a man of out you” (a man out of you.)

Knight Books, 1969, 151 p, plus 8 p Diagrams and Technical Data.

Super Nova is the name of a(n as yet unused in an emergency) rescue ship based on the Moon.

The scene is set on the Moon base, a relatively large establishment with some married couples and a few children among the otherwise unattached. Not quite in that last category (but also not far from it) are Nurse Janie O’Donnel and Assistant Signaller Steve Murray who are attracted to each other but not as yet actually an (as we would say now) item. Gender roles are pretty much what were recognised as such in the late 1960s. Most of the women are either married and stay at home or have nurturing roles. One of the more unusual characters is Norman the News – whose nickname is perhaps an indicator of the author’s Scottish background – a reporter for Earth based newspapers.

The crisis which leads to Super Nova’s launch comes when a supply ship, the Archimedes, is stopped in space near to the incoming Satellite 907 – which has, incidentally, somehow or other managed to make the round trip to Pluto and back in a matter of days – along with a failure of communications. O’Donnel was originally scheduled to be on the Super Nova but Murray volunteers since the usual signaller is incapacitated but mainly to be near O’Donnel.

There is a large amount of information dumping (the story was intended for young adults though.) More noticeably these days the societal assumptions of its time or, rather, of MacVicar’s time, he was born in 1908 after all, are littered through it.

It turns out that in its pass round Pluto Satellite 907 has been taken over by that (minor) planet’s native intelligences, intrinsically hateful. They had in the past boosted Pluto from orbit round Neptune, a manœuvre which also forced Triton into its retrograde motion round its parent.

Close encounters with Satellite 907 lead to the Super Nova’s crew beginning to develop feelings of antipathy towards each other, leading on to much worse emotions. This is of course the influence of the Plutonians. Relief from these comes when Pluto’s spin takes the relevant transmitter round its edge. (Did they not, I wondered, have a relay system to ensure continuity? Never mind, it’s for YA; let’s carry on.)

The main action involves Murray having to approach the satellite during the transmission lull to deactivate its self-destruct device. For this he needs the relevant tools and Janie offers to take them to him. There is an uncomfortable scene where after he loses consciousness and Janie performs the actual deed she later tells him (in order to protect his self-esteem) that he did it.

One of the characters ruminates that, as a historical phenomenon, “Nobody seemed to like the Jews” then that “this was partly their own fault for being so inward looking, so close and clannish, so rigid in their beliefs.” Victim blaming or what.

But all on Earth is apparently now in harmony, technical and social benefits bind everyone in fairness to contribute in work and example. The Plutonians are somehow managing to undermine these feelings of togetherness and instilling fear and distrust – even hate.

The orbital dynamics of all of the ‘stopped in space’ gubbins are of course nonsense but without them there wouldn’t be a story.

The quaintness of this vision of the future is underlined by one of the characters using a “pocket space-range calculator” (looking like a cross between a set-square and a spirit level!) which was his own invention.

It is unusual to find in a work of SF, let alone a juvenile, as these stories were called back then, references to Goethe and James Hogg.

Similarly, I doubt any other piece of SF has ever employed the Scots word ‘douce’. Kudos to Scotsman MacVicar for that.

Diagrams of Satellite 907, the Archimedes class of ship, Pluto’s escape from orbit round Neptune, the Super Nova, a Moon Bus (with a crane attachment!) a laser-armed scout ship and a lunar vacuum suit appear as an appendix.

Sensitivity note: as well as the reference to Jews above, there is a mention of a Negro mayor, and the phrase “the nigger in the spatial woodpile.”

Pedant’s corner:- collander (colander,) “[responsible] for discovering minerals, oils and other products” (oils? On the Moon?) “dog’s-bodies” (nowadays – and perhaps even in 1969 – dogsbodies,) similies (similes,) span (spun,) “on the base of pure logic” (on the basis of pure logic,) “came to a stop in her orbit” (spaceships are not cars; they cannot just stop, they keep going until something changes their direction. This, as a plot point, ought to have been elaborated on,) 9o7 (907,) I noted the abbreviation ‘mike’ (which is now often rendered as ‘mic’,) the burst of flame from an atomic explosion “would become a towering mushroom cloud” (not in space it wouldn’t. The ‘cloud’ would be approximately spherical in shape,) “a spot of rust having formed” (on a screw fixing on a spaceship. In space the chemical conditions for rusting are not present. [To be charitable I suppose the rusting could have occurred during manufacture on Earth.] But also only iron can form rust [other metals corrode, but the result is not rust] but if they are to be launched from Earth, iron is too dense a material to make spaceships from.)

Canongate, 2022, 373 p, including 3 p Afterword.

This one was published twenty years after Welsh’s first novel The Cutting Room and in it she returns to the central character of that book, Rilke, an auctioneer for the financially troubled Bowery Auctions. Rilke is gay and the intervening years gives Welsh, through Rilke, the opportunity to comment on the evolution in attitudes towards homosexuality that has taken place in that time. (Some prejudice still appears here but on the whole the other characters – even those he is meeting for the first time – by and large accept who and what he is.)

This starts from the first scene where Rilke is attending the wedding of the two Bobbys, where the parents of one of the two grooms were never to be mentioned. Rilke has to escort one of the guests, Jojo, out of the reception to avoid the possibility of a scene. Jojo gives Rilke a tip about the wind-up of an estate at Ballantyne House in Dumfries and Galloway whose owners are looking to sell off the house contents, a commission which might save Bowery Auctions’ somewhat failing fortunes. The next day Jojo is found dead in an alley.

As Rilke delves into the circumstances of the death via Jojo’s lodger, an art student calling himself Sands, he gets embroiled with gangster Jamie Mitchell and encounters a strange situation regarding the affairs at Ballantyne House and farm, where there was a car crash a week or so before and the auction crew rescue a frightened Vietnamese refugee, Phan, on a nearby road.

Welsh is always on top of her material here and interweaves her plot intricately. We are almost incidentally given glimpses of the more outré aspects of Glasgow’s gay scene.

Her talent for characterisation is illustrated by the on-off relationship between the auction house’s owner, Rose, and police Inspector Jim Anderson. There was the neat observation, “He had slicked his wet hair back from his face, like Brian Ferry before the cardigans set in.”

This doesn’t quite reach the levels which The Cutting Room did, but it is still a very good piece of crime fiction. A cut above you might say.

Pedant’s corner:- Burns’ (Burns’s,) “the frail women’s exit” (frail woman’s,) “a pair of storm doors” (on the top floor of a tenement? Storm doors are external. I think Welsh meant ‘vestibule doors’,) Sands’ (many times; Sands’s,) “black surplice” (on a minister at a funeral. Surplices are traditionally white and can be worn at funerals. If they’re black they’re most likely not a surplice but an ecclesiastical gown.) “Rose looked out of place the lady of the house” (needs a comma between ‘place’ and ‘the lady’,) “aren’t I?” (The speaker was a Scot. We say ‘amn’t I?’) “a group of youths were huddled” (a group … was huddled,) “people who never had no luck at all” (the sense demands ‘people who never had luck at all’,) “Sand’s said” (Sands said,) “some bullets” (these were for a shotgun, which traditionally is loaded with cartridges, not bullets. As indeed this shotgun was, later,) “let off three quick shots” ([again traditionally] shotguns can fire only twice before needing reloaded,) distributer (distributor.)

Victor Gollancz, 1985, 157 p.

As its title betokens this novel is about the lives of the inhabitants of a tenement which is old, built of grey granite in a town on the east coast of Scotland, and is personified in the first chapter as being somewhat intolerant of young people, preferring its inhabitants to have lived a little. As we start there are no children living in the building.

On the top floor we have Mrs Miller, a now reclusive widow embittered by the death of her husband in a lightning strike. She has visited her daughter in Rhodesia, and has all the prejudices against “the blacks” which that engendered.

Opposite live Mr and Mrs Cameron. He is a dyed in the wool Protestant, hence naturally a rabid supporter of Rangers. He is profoundly anti-Catholic and beats his wife.

Below them are the Masons, still young and expecting a child. Mr Mason feels guilty that he does nothing to confront Cameron’s violence. On the same floor lives former teacher Trevor Porter who claims to be a poet but is unpublished and has regrets about the lack of attention he paid to his now late wife.

On the ground floor are Mrs Floss, left relatively well off when her husband died, who takes cruises – and lovers while she’s at it – and retired milkman Mr Cooper who has a summer job as a lavatory attendant, tales of which he regales to Mrs Mason, which she finds a bit creepy.

Each impinges on the others but mostly in passing until a celebration of the Masons’ baby leads to the novel’s signal act.

The novel has some insights but there is something curiously inconsequential about it all and nobody in the tenement the reader can really root for. It could have done with a leavening of the humour found in the author’s “Murdo” stories.

Pedant’s corner:- “There had been …. widowed, men” (no need for that comma,) “he had wakened up” (woken up,) “James’ car” (James’s,) mediaeval (hurrah!) “a Rangers’ supporter” (‘a Rangers supporter.’ No-one would write, for example ‘a Motherwell’s supporter.’)

Salt, 2023, 183 p.  Reviewed for ParSec 8.

Alice Thompson is a veteran of seven previous novels but as far as I’m aware none of them has been Science Fiction. Concerning as it does a voyage to another planet (or, strictly, to its moon) this book could hardly be described as anything else. Yet it is not a typical exemplar of modern SF. Unlike the brashness of the average space exploration story its tonal qualities are more reminiscent of Stanisław Lem’s Solaris or David Lindsay’s A Voyage to Arcturus. Its epigraph, perhaps the most famous quotation from The Tempest, suggests the trajectory that will follow.

A prologue sets up the body of the text as a tale of lost memory. Artemis was the sole human returnee of her crew from their trip to Oneiros on the spaceship Chimera in a search for bacteria that could break down carbon dioxide to obviate global warming. Two dryads, hybrids of computing powers and cloned human DNA provided by anonymous donors, came back with her. Though she has none of Oneiros she is now setting down as a novel, Chimera, the memories she has of the trip.

This odyssey from a beleaguered world where – apart from “the IT elite, the governing body called the elITe” (who do not allow their children access to computers or smart phones) – all humans seem to be in thrall to “widespread automation and the internet of things” and “virtual reality had destroyed downtime and daydreaming” while “in many ways all human progress, except for AI, had stagnated,” is an incongruous endeavour. The crew seems mismatched and detached. Artemis tells us that in space humans are not allowed to dream; it is too unsettling for their daily work. Though she got on the trip more or less by subterfuge and has a slightly unbalanced mental history she is in charge of the medication to ensure this. “Pills suppress rapid eye movement.” Dryads record everything they see and hear. In their ever-lurking presence they come across like HAL from 2001: A Space Odyssey before David Bowman pulled its plugs.

Adding to the distancing effect odd things happen on board. Though it is cruising faster than the speed of light jolts affect the ship’s smooth passage. A dryad alters the temperature controls for no good reason. A bacterium appears on a microscope slide as if out of nowhere. Artemis starts to hear ringing bells. One of the crew, Ivan, disappears.

The oddnesses do not stop there. On Oneiros itself they land miles away from their destination and have to trek across a snowscape to reach the base built for them by automated fabricators. Artemis discovers there had been a previous research ship to the moon, the Siren, but Mission Control, personified in an AI named Cressida, lost contact with the crew and pilot dryads returned the ship. She begins to see shadows.

On a novelistic level the writing here is perfectly acceptable, though the book has flaws. Thompson brings attention to her use of quotations via asterisks and footnotes. That may be all very well in academic tracts but in a novel it distracts from the narrative. Oneiros is a tad too programmatically named. At times the information dumping could have been better integrated but there are also indications of a lack of familiarity with SF as a genre or with scientific processes. Stars are visible through Chimera’s windows even though it’s travelling faster than light. (I doubt light could be seen if it’s moving slower than any potential observer.) Before their trek across Oneiros, the crew take oxygen pills. (Just how are these supposed to work?)

The novel’s central concerns are the relationship between humans and dryads and the nature of consciousness – which Ivan opines may be a fundamental property of matter. The crew’s fate and that of Artemis are bound up with the absence of dreams. How does their loss affect people, how does their lack impact on the dryads?

An Epilogue describes Artemis’s novel’s fate and may be commenting on Artemis’s reliability as a narrator.

Chimera is a solid, very readable piece of work but in drawing comparison to Lem and Lindsay is setting a high bar.

Pedant’s corner:- “She turned to the dryad.’ Why?’” (She turned to the dryad. ‘Why?) “Just logarithms and data” (this was about a dryad. ‘Just algorithms and data’ makes more sense,) bacteria (used as if its singular. Occasionally the proper singular ‘bacterium’ pops up,) focussed (focused.) “our brains our designed to look for connections” (Our brains are designed to.) “There was always had a book of poetry” (no need for the ‘had’,) two sentences couched as questions but lacking their question mark. “Cressida gave him a disarming smile” (gave her,) a missing quotation mark at the end of a piece of direct speech, “she could make out, through the blizzard, snow that covered the entire surface of the moon, with abnormally high mountains in the distance” (a blizzard tends to obscure anything more than a few metres away,) “minus 40 centigrade” (the official designation for that temperature scale is Celsius.) “‘Check for cuts. Frostbite can get in’” (Cold can get in [though it’s actually heat being lost] and then frostbite might develop.) “Their strength and stamina was formidable” (the ‘and’ makes this plural; ‘were formidable’,) “outside of it” (outside it.) “A empty wardrobe” (An empty.) “His brain was wired different” (differently.) Technicolour (I believe it was spelled Technicolor,) “like an idea struck the flat previous” (I haven’t a clue what this is supposed to mean,) “refraction of protons” (this was about light; refraction of photons, then,) “of this moon ?” (the space between moon and the ‘?’ was there to distribute the words in the line evenly but it looked odd.)