Conference noted::sf

1184.0. "Elgin's Ozark Trilogy" by VERGA::KLAES (Quo vadimus?) Fri Oct 22 1993 18:46

Article: 406
From: dani@netcom.com (Dani Zweig)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.reviews
Subject: REPOST: Belated Reviews PS#16: Suzette Haden Elgin and "Ozark"
Organization: Netcom Online Communications Services (408-241-9760 login: guest)
Date: 21 Oct 93 01:44:15 GMT
 
  Belated Reviews PS#16: Suzette Haden Elgin and the "Ozark" Trilogy
 
Suzette Haden Elgin has been writing science fiction since the late sixties.
Her writing combines wit and acid, humor and feeling, in a way that will
appeal to some readers and not to other.  She's a linguist, and one of 
her non-sf projects is the development of 'Laadan', a women's language.
Linguistics and her concern with with women's issues tend to manifest, in
various guises and combinations, in her writing as well.
 
I'll have more to say about her science fiction later, but what I consider
to be her most enjoyable work by far is the Ozark trilogy -- "Twelve Fair
Kingdoms", "The Grand Jubilee", and "And Then There'll Be Fireworks" --
her one foray into fantasy.  (Like her science fiction, it's not going to
be to all tastes, so I'll try to describe it well enough for readers to
decide whether it's likely to be to theirs.)
 
"Twelve Fair Kingdoms" (****) introduces us to the planet Ozark.  The
premise is ridiculous, and Elgin has a great deal of fun with it -- and
readers are invited to do likewise:  Early in the twenty-first century,
twelve families of Ozark mountain people, dismayed by what the world was
coming to, took off for the stars and founded their own traditional
society.  Okay, not completely traditional:  Magic works.  (Common Sense
magic is generally available.  A few formidable old women know Granny
Magic.  And only magicians have access to Hifalutin Magic.  (Don't ask.))
Numerology works.  The computer-and-communications network works.  But
aside from niggling details, it's a society that cleaves as closely as
possible to idealized Ozark traditions and values. 
 
As the colony's thousandth anniversary approaches, a series of troubles --
nuisance-value, for the most part, but clearly the result of mischievous
or hostile magic -- begins to manifest.  In order to respond to this
challenge, in order to investigate the Twelve Families in search of the
culprits, (and because her family is driving her up a wall, and  a change
of scenery would be welcome,) young Responsible of Brightwater sets out on
a Quest, to track down the miscreants.  Dressed in the elaborate costume
which Quest tradition demands, she mounts her Mule, and sets out for a
tour of the Twelve Kingdoms on Ozark's six continents.  (The Mules are
Elgin's dig at McCaffrey's aerodynamically improbable dragons.  They are
magicked to fly at a steady sixty mph.) 
 
Having the protagonist find a reason for a grand tour is a badly over-
worked technique for introducing readers to a milieu, but this milieu is
delightful, and I thoroughly enjoyed the introduction.  The book ends with
Responsible having uncovered some serious nastiness, but being fairly
confident of her ability to deal with it.  "Twelve Fair Kingdoms" shows us
Ozark at its best.
 
"The Grand Jubilee" (***+) follows shortly after.  The Jubilee marks the
five-hundredth anniversary of the Confederation of Continents, and there
is a strong minority sentiment in favor of dismantling the federation.
(One millenium you create a confederation, the next millenium someone'll
want to impose taxes, and before you know it you've got Big Government
again.)  For reasons known to very few, it is vital that the Confederation
survive (it is the main 'legal' barrier to an alien takeover), and steps
are taken to make sure the politicking doesn't get out of hand.  Through a
combination of malice, ineptitude, and plain bad luck, the politicking
*does* get out of hand.  Far worse, some of that malice is directed at
Responsible of Brightwater.  (In "Twelve Fair Kingdoms", we come to
realize that she has access to far more magic than she should have.  What
the people who go after her don't realize is that her access is essential
to their own:  Ozark's magic fails in her absence.) 
 
"And Then There'll Be Fireworks" (***-) is a darker book than the other two.
With the failure of magic comes a failure of crops, starvation and, when
things have gone far enough downhill, the alien invasion.  This book completes
the tale of Ozark as it hits bottom -- and starts on its way back up.
 
(There is a problem with the trilogy which will bother some readers and
not others.  Let me approach it obliquely.  There are some people to whom
numbers aren't quite real.  (No pun intended.)  They might, for instance,
use 'million' and 'billion' interchangeably, to mean "a lot".  Or you
could describe a lightly-populated world where the average family size for
the past thousand years has been eight children, and they wouldn't see a
problem.  Elgin is one of those people.  It's not just numbers, though it
shows most clearly there:  Many of the details which are meant to give the
books atmosphere and depth are mutually inconsistent.  The inconsistencies
are particularly thick on the ground in book three.  Again, some readers
won't notice, or won't care if they do, others will.)
 
That said, "Twelve Fair Kingdoms" is delightful light fantasy, with 
deliberately silly but pleasant premises, and if you enjoy well-written
books in that vein, you'll enjoy this one -- and probably its sequels.
(It also repays a thoughtful rereading:  Among the things that keep Ozark
on a smugly even keel for a thousand years is a network of secrets and
Noble Lies -- but these also turn out to be its weak points, through
which it can be brought down.)
 
Elgin has two other series, both science fiction.  The first is her
Communipaths series -- the first three books of which have been collected
in an omnibus titled "Communipath Worlds" (whose Pocket Book edition has
one of the Truly Silly SF Covers).  The milieu, a vaguely intergalactic
Federation, is a poisoned paradise.  There is no want, the spread of
telepathy has brought sophistication and understanding -- and there is the
odd ugliness around the edges.  The protagonist of the Communipath novels
is Coyote Jones, an agent who gets to deal with some of the ugliness.
 
"The Communipaths" (**+) is Elgin's first novel, and it shows.  The
writing is somewhat clunky, the reader is bashed over the head with the
morals of the story, and the resolution is contrived.  But it's still my
favorite novel of this series.  The Communipaths themselves represent a
subtler version of LeGuin's 'Omelas' dilemma:  They are the most powerful
telepaths in two galaxies, their communications hold the Federation
together, and the job kills them in their teens.  (They're conditioned to
look upon that end in a positive light.)  When a powerful rogue telepath
begins to disrupt communications, Coyote Jones is sent to apprehend said
telepath -- with authorization to kill, if necessary.  The rogue turns out
to be twelve months old.  Particularly effective is the contrast between
the cold officialese with which the parties concerned document the situation,
and degree to which the situation distresses them -- off the record.
 
In "Yonder Comes the Other End of Time" (*), Coyote Jones meets Ozark,
and the attempt to combine the fantasy milieu and the sf milieu falls flat.  
 
I may be the wrong person to write about the Native Tongue trilogy.
(Actually, it's not a trilogy yet.  "Native Tongue" and "The Judas Rose"
have been out for a while, but "Native Tongue III" will be published later
this year.)  Elgin packed in a good deal of hard linguistics, by creating
a future in which a few families of trained-from-the-cradle linguists form
the bridge between Earth and the rest of the galaxy.  (Linguistics also
pops up in the Ozark trilogy, in an amusing guise.  For much the reason
that flying is done on Muleback -- a combination of inspired silliness and
mild mockery -- Ozark magic is based on the formalisms of transformational
grammar.  But I digress.)  Layered over the galactic situation is the
domestic one:  The Earth of this future is one in which women have lost
all legal rights.  And female linguists have secretly begun a long-term
project to change this reality through the creation of a female language
(the aforementioned Laadan). 
 
I didn't like it.  What we get isn't a world of the future, but today's
world, with the heaviest possible seasoning of "How awful can the world be
made for women?", and the result has little or no internal logic.  But, as
I said, I may be a poor judge of these books, as several hundred pages in
which men are cast as automatic villains might have prejudiced me.  (I did
not, btw, have this reaction to Atwood's less-extreme "The Handmaid's Tale".) 
 
Bottom line:  If you don't dislike light fantasy, read "Twelve Fair Kingdoms"
and, if you enjoy it, the two sequels.  (Don't read "Yonder Come the Other
End of Time", however, unless the trilogy leaves you desperate for more.)
The Communipath novels ("The Communipaths", "Furthest", "At the Seventh
Level", "Star-Anchored, Star-Angered") are in the ** to **+ range:  I
enjoyed them, but thought them nothing special.  You might want to try
(any) one to see if they're to your taste.  And the Native Tongue books
left a bad taste in my mouth, but it's a sufficiently political trilogy
that I'm chicken about assuming that other readers will agree.
 
%A  Elgin, Suzette Haden
%S  The Ozark Trilogy
%T  Twelve Fair Kingdoms
%T  The Grand Jubilee
%T  And Then There'll Be Fireworks
 
%T  The Communipaths
 
=============================================================================
 
The postscripts to Belated Reviews cover authors of earlier decades who
didn't fit into the original format -- whether because the author seemed
an inappropriate subject, or because I was unfamiliar with too much of the
author's work, or whatever -- or sometimes just isolated works of such
authors.  The emphasis will continue to be on guiding newer readers
towards books or authors worth trying out, rather than on discussing them
comprehensively or in depth.  I'll retain the rating scheme of ****
(recommended), *** (an old favorite that hasn't aged well), ** (a solid
lesser work), and * (nothing special). 
 
-----
Dani Zweig
dani@netcom.com
 
   The inability of snakes to count is actually a refusal, on their part,
    to appreciate the Cardinal Number system. -- "Actual Facts"