Friday, September 28, 2018

Invaders From Planet 3 - Ep 21 - Chris Beckett

Author Chris Beckett joins us in this episode, where he talks about his first loves in sf, including Heinlein's Starman Jones, CS Lewis' The Chronicles of Narnia, and The Space Merchants by Frederik Pohl and CM Kornbluth. He describes the importance of being able to explore his father's book collection and coming from a family with a scientific background, and what his father thought of his eventual decision to become a writer.

We also chat about how Chris' career as a social worker has influenced both his own writing and his views on other science fiction. As part of this, we talk about the connection between the science fictional mindset and that of social work, and sf's value as escapism.

Chris also discusses his latest novel, America City, and drops a hint about his next, as yet untitled, work.

Our interview took place in June 2018 via a Skype connection (and I apologize in advance for audio dropouts or Skype artifacts in the recording) between Chris' home in Cambridge, UK, and my location in the Lair of bloginhood, buried in the stone bulwark at the end of the White Rock pier.

Find out more about Chris Beckett on his website:

To listen to Invaders From Planet 3, or subscribe, visit LibsyniTunes, Stitcher, Overcast and Spotify. Be sure to rate and review the show while you're there!

Let the invasion begin!

Saturday, September 22, 2018

Concerning Hobbits — and Bachelors

Happy Hobbit Day, everyone ! I hope you've been able to celebrate the shared birthday of Bilbo and and Frodo Baggins with seven or eight stomach-explodingly large and delicious meals today.

Meals are, of course, the closest thing to a hobbit's heart — even dearer than genealogy, gardening, or xenophobic grumbling. And meals often form the heart of some of the most entertaining — and sometimes meaningful — moments in JRR Tolkien's The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings novels, as well as Peter Jackson's cinematic adaptations of them. Who can forget the raucous feast of the dwarves as they barge into Bag End in TH, or the extravagant double birthday party that opens LOTR (interesting how both stories, regardless of their soft openings, get their real start with a meal)? Or Frodo & co dining with the elves under the stars as the flee the Shire in The Fellowship of the Ring? Or Sam and Frodo's meagre rations of lembas on their trek towards Mount Doom?

But the meal that's come to mean the most to me in recent years is Bilbo's sit-down just before the arrival of the first of Thorin's companions in The Hobbit. Not much is made of it in Tolkien's novel; just a mention that Bilbo was about to sit down to tea. Peter Jackson spends more time crafting this moment in The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey though: in his version, Bilbo's sitting down to a quiet supper.

And craft is the right word for it. This is an exquisitely crafted little scene where we experience the quiet of the evening in a relaxed little community in an uneventful corner of the world, with Bilbo, the solitary bachelor, cooking his fish and a few side dishes, sitting down in a silence broken only by the murmuring snap of the fire and soft scrap of dishes, and preparing to eat, alone. The first time I watched that scene, it took my breath away. It only lasts a second or two before the dwarven assault on the pantry begins, but in those few seconds it captures entirely and perfectly the essence of bachelorhood. Here, in the comfortable silence and dim light of the hearth and candles, we see a man who is content, perhaps even happy with his life, but at the same time, probably unconsciously, feeling lonely and unfulfilled. Living life well enough, but somehow feeling that he wants more, even if he isn't aware that he's feeling it. Not an angst, but a calmly accepted and possibly forgotten absence. It is a state of being I've felt before as a bachelor, and these days, now that my marriage has collapsed, it's a feeling that's enveloping me again. It's a moment that's a universal statement about the bachelor experience (and probably that of bachelorettes, and, to some degree, possibly of widows and widowers, although those would be freighted with loss and more overt sadness).

Sure, there may be some of you out there reading this who say "I'm single and I couldn't be happier! That scene isn't relevant to me at all!" Okay. So be it. You can go back to writing your erotic sequel to The Mysterious Two then.

The rest of us, meanwhile, will take a little time to appreciate a cinematic moment that's beautifully filmed by Peter Jackson, and played confidently and subtly by Martin Freeman. No other film I've seen has ever captured the true feeling of bachelorhood as well as THAUJ — others are always moving too quickly when they set up a character's bachelor lifestyle; there's always a musical score or theme song that's trying to shoulder its way in front of the real, potentially meaningful content of the scene; the pace and cuts are frequently too quick to let the viewer experience the person's state of being; the tone is frequently engineered to mock the character (as in The 40-Year-Old Virgin), or, if the actor is playing it cool, to blatantly tell us that something is lacking in their deliberate detachment  (like in Up in the Air). But as short as this moment is in THAUJ, within itself, it gives itself time to really let us experience a life and how that life feels in an honest and meaningful way. Say what you will about Jackson's Hobbit trilogy (and there are plenty of flaws), this is, as J Michael Straczynski's Vorlon Ambassador Kosh might say in Babylon 5, "One moment of perfect beauty."

One that's served up in a simple hobbit meal. Happy birthday, Bilbo.

Friday, September 14, 2018

Invaders From Planet 3 - Ep 20 - Voice of the Fans 2

The Invasion has resumed! Season three of the Invaders From Planet 3 podcast kicks off with a new Voice of the Fans episode, where I interview a group of fans about their first loves in science fiction, fantasy, video games, comics, movies, TV — whatever!

My guests include Ryneld Starr, Sarah Corbeil, Jose Palacios, and Sam McCreath. Our interviews took place over the summer of 2018 via Skype calls between their homes and my studio in the Lair of bloginhood, currently located in a pillow fort in your mom's basement.

And because every fan's voice is important, I'd love to hear from you too! Leave a note in the Comments section below telling us about your first love in speculative fiction. And if you'd like to be part of next year's Voice of the Fans episode, contact me at
Meanwhile, don't forget to tune in over the coming weeks for the next episodes of the show. I've got interviews with some cool authors, performers and artists coming up this season, and I think you'll enjoy these conversations as much as I did.

To listen to Invaders From Planet 3, or subscribe, visit LibsyniTunes, StitcherOvercast and Spotify. Be sure to rate and review the show while you're there!

Let the invasion begin!

Sunday, September 02, 2018

Final Episode of Excellent Prisoners of Gravity Documentary Now Online

The team at Radio Free Krypton has now posted/aired the final episode of its excellent documentary on Prisoners of Gravity!

Part four of "Inside the Orbit of Prisoners of Gravity" talks about the show's legacy, and asks the question of whether it could be done today. Interviewees include the PoG host and producers, author Robert J Sawyer, and fans — including me. For my part, I think, at least as far as Canadian fans go, the legacy of PoG is every sf-related, interview-oriented podcast and video log/Youtube show. Whether these shows follow the PoG template or go in their own directions, Commander Rick and his producers showed us that it could be done (nearly 30 years ago), and so all of us have escaped the world to our own little broadcasting/podcasting/vlogging space stations. We're all the children of Commander Rick (although I can only wish that I had his hair).

Thanks to Radio Free Krypton for putting this documentary together. As important as Prisoners of Gravity was 30 years ago, it's just as important now for fans to celebrate what the host and producers accomplished for the speculative fiction community — especially the Canadian sf community (though not exclusively so, since the show contained many interesting interviews with American and British sf and comics creators too) — and the legacy it created. It was the first time (at least in this country) where our community had a voice that showed the significance of its work, it was a voice that further connected our community, and it was a voice that could be heard/seen by people outside of our community. For Radio Free Krypton to document this achievement, and explore its ongoing relevance, is also important to our sf community. For that, the RFK team deserves an Aurora Award. And I'm not just saying that because they invited me to participate in this doc (although being part of this group does tickle me immensely) — I would have endorsed it anyway. It's that good.

Lastly, I think it's also important to thank TV Ontario for airing the show in the first place. During the first half of my childhood, in Ontario, I devoured TVO's programs (Hey, TVO introduced me to Doctor Who! That's why Tom Baker will always be my favourite.), and even after moving away and growing up, I can still see them for the quality shows they were. It's also important to thank BC's Knowledge Network for picking up PoG from TVO — without Knowledge, I wouldn't have seen the awesomeness of Prisoners of Gravity in its original run back in the late 1980s and early 90s. The value of public broadcasters is incalculable.

If you haven't listened to "Inside the Orbit..." yet, head over to Radio Free Krypton and do so! And if you've never seen an episode of Prisoners of Gravity, what are you waiting for? Punch it up on Youtube and watch one, or three, or all of them! Thirty years on, it's still as relevant, thought-provoking and entertaining.

Mini Reviews: Trouble on Paradise, Eden, and Earth

We're still a couple of months out from Hallowe'en, but for this edition of the Mini Reviews, I've decided to post some thoughts on books that deal — to varying degrees — with monsters. Both the inhuman and the human kind.

Here's the lineup:

The Night Lies Bleeding by MD Lachlan
The Dinosaur Princess by Victor Milan
Daughter of Eden by Chris Beckett

The short version? These books are all awesome and you should buy and read them immediately.

Now for the longer (but still mini) reviews. As always: SPOILERS AHEAD. And if you don't like spoilers, you can just go back to working on that Yor: The Hunter from the Future fanzine you've been trying to put together for the last 35 years.


The Night Lies Bleeding, by MD Lachlan

What could possibly be worse than the old Norse god/monster wolf Fenrir coming to Earth in human form to reincarnate again and again over the ages, each time transforming into a gigantic werewolf that chews through everyone around him like a chainsaw ripping through a box of baby bunnies? Nazis, of course.

In The Night Lies Bleeding, the final instalment in MD Lachlan's superbly unsettling Wolfsangel series, Fenrir's latest avatar is living as a British aristocrat and museum curator, trying to stay detached from humanity as the UK is hammered by the German Blitz in the Second World War. But there's a difference from his previous lives, one that's more important than his social status or wealth: Previously, as a Viking, a would-be Byzantine courtier, a priest, or someone caught up in the Norman Harrying of the North, he'd only lived a single lifetime (and generally not very long at that). He'd been confined and died after each transformation and rampage. This time, however, the avatar of the wolf, currently known as Endamon Craw, has been living the same life for a few hundred years — there was no death after the transformations of the recent centuries. And while Craw has been trying to lead a quiet life, to keep away from things that might make him lose control, he's now drawn back into the inescapable fate laid out by the Norns when he's brought in as a consultant on a police investigation into a series of mutilations and murders. It seems someone else is trying to use some of the ancient runes to become a werewolf himself. Every day Craw assists with the case, he's confronted with things that increasingly prod the wolf inside him, bringing it closer to waking. Meanwhile, in Germany, a lazy doctor who doesn't support the Nazis or the war submits a research proposal to the SS as a joke, only to have it taken seriously by the occult-crazed High Command. Dr Max Voller is ordered to report — with his wife, Gertie — to Wewelsburg, otherwise known as The Black Vatican, a castle where the SS carries out abominable experiments on concentration camp prisoners as it attempts to access arcane power to win the war. Once there, he's forced to carry out his research, committing atrocities on prisoners lest he face punishment or execution, and for fear that his wife might be taken by superior officers who have their eyes on her nordic beauty. For her part, Gertie soon finds herself facing an otherworldly place of horrors as she attracts the attention of an ancient entity. And lurking in the background, the god Odin manipulates the situation to try to outmaneuver his fated encounter with the wolf.

The Night Lies Bleeding marks a departure from the rest of the series in a number of ways. On the surface, there's the basic movement of setting out from the Middle Ages to the more familiar terrain of the early-mid Twentieth Century (while probably not personally familiar to most readers, it is a time that we would have heard about from parents or grandparents who experienced the War, and its effects are still visible upon the world stage and our cultural dialogue, even more than 70 years on).

As noted previously, there's also the change in the existence and perspective of Fenrir's avatar. Not having died in several centuries, Craw carries the detachment, aloofness, and vague melancholy that we've come to associate with immortals in speculative fiction, but — and here's where the author shows his skill — Craw is more interesting than his counterparts in literature and film in that he's not just aware of how different he is from normal humans because of his long life and extensive experiences, he's not just comparing everything to the good old days (though he does indulge in these things), more interestingly, he's constantly re-evaluating himself and his own behaviour in the world that normal humans have created. When another character says something or behaves in a certain modern way (let's say not showing deference to Craw as a person of higher social/economic status), Craw's immediate internal reaction is to feel insult or anger at the breach of protocol by an uppity peasant, but he then reminds himself that times have changed, reflects on the nature of those changes, and makes an effort to adapt. And not just to adapt his clothes or mannerisms — he's not simply engaging in a masquerade to be camouflaged among the humans — instead, he goes even further, reminding himself to change his beliefs and feelings, in essence, to change a part of who he is, because this kind of evolution of the self is the only way he can survive and remain sane (aside from periodic outbursts from the wolf). You never see Connor Macleod from Highlander, or the Greek gods of Peter S Beagle's Summerlong, or the various deities of Neil Gaiman's American Gods instigating that kind of internal change of self — they remain who they are. Lachlan's Fenrir, on the other hand, despite being a monster, has that capacity (which, perhaps in the eyes of other gods — though this perspective isn't given in this book — might be part of what makes him monstrous).

But this story also marks a departure from the other Wolfsangel books in that the nature of its horror has shifted somewhat. What was most frightening in the other books was the idea of the helpless loss of self at the hands of others. The transformation of an unwitting and unwilling avatar into Fenrir, caused by the vicious magic and schemes of gods or witches — beings so incredibly more powerful than the avatars that there was nothing they could do to prevent what was happening to them, with the change being accelerated as they were thrown onto blood-soaked battlefields. The focus of the other books was also, ultimately, on the carnage inflicted by the wolf as it pursued the woman it loved, usually to their mutual destruction, with the monstrous alienness of the supernatural being front and centre. But here, the supernatural elements are almost incidental. Yes, Craw becomes Fenrir. Yes, there are people trying to use the ancient runes to create more werewolves or to gain power or the favour of the old gods. Yes, there are supernatural entities trying to control the situation. But with the story shifting into the setting of the Second World War, the real horror that takes centre stage is the very real monstrousness of facism — the monstrousness of people who became Nazis. Here, the story is moving into Dan Simmons country, where no supernatural god or monster can compare with the horror of what human beings do to each other due to hate, evil beliefs, or self interest. Yes, the previous books were set during times where human beings committed monstrous acts upon one-another, such as Viking raids, or witches confining people in caves, or the Norman Harrying of the North. But those were background elements to their stories, where TNLB presents Nazi atrocities, and the willingness of people to do them, as its central thrust. What's most terrifying in this story is not a loss of self at the hands of more powerful beings, or the transformation of a man into a supernatural monster, but rather the loss of self and the transformation of a good man into an all-too-human monster as a result of deliberate choices that man takes upon himself. It is the horror of watching a once good man becoming desensitized to the cruelty and evil around him, being too weak to refuse to be a part it, and willingly participating in it — and rationalizing this decision as the right choice — in order to protect his own life  and that of his wife, but then ultimately to gain greater personal comforts and prestige. It's the horror of a person once sympathetic to the suffering of the human beings around him becoming one who indifferently sees them as disposable material. It is the all-too-real horror of a doctor transforming into a Nazi torturer. Fenrir, Odin's schemes to outwit Ragnarok, and the witch's possession all seem trivial compared to what human beings are doing to each other in World War II Europe. They seem trivial compared to what could be brewing in today's world of explosive nationalism and intolerance. It's a story that leaves the reader shaken, knowing that monsters can't be escaped just by closing the book.


The Dinosaur Princess, by Victor Milan

Others have said it, and I'll gleefully hop on the bandwagon: Victor Milan's The Dinosaur Lords books should be adapted into a TV series (HBO or Netflix would be perfect). The reality though is that rather than listen to this excellent idea; or adapt another good, original story; or create something new, Hollywood will most likely continue to look inward and rehash old properties with modern twists. Instead of a lineup of top actors astride computer-generated hadrosaurs, T-Rexs and triceratops, we're more likely to be served something profoundly lame like a reboot of Barney Miller — except, rather than a half-hour, one set sitcom, it'd be an hour-long, gritty, gore-intensive, multi-location police procedural/crime drama where Wojciehowicz turns into a pacifist Buddhist to try to overcome crippling PTSD; Dietrich is now a woman and sidelined to desk duty amidst allegations of police brutality; Harris is a mom trying to advance in her career while raising three young kids, dealing with a husband who's a world-class chef who cheats on her, and supporting an elderly mother who wants to go back to school to become an archaeologist; Yemana talks to the ghosts of murder victims; Fish is a closet BDSM sex addict; and Barney himself may or may not be on the take from the mob. You know they're going to do it. Probably with a high-octane pilot episode featuring a gun battle in the streets (a-la Heat) where the squad tries to foil a bank job by Big Blast, the guy who likes to use a bazooka for robberies. Hey, that might actually be kinda cool... Wait! What did I say? No. Must... focus... on... quality... storytelling. Really, Milan's Dinosaur series needs to be adapted for TV or streaming services, and that includes the latest instalment, 2017's The Dinosaur Princess, because it's just so visual, and just so good.

The Dinosaur Princess picks up just after the events of The Dinosaur Knights, with the people of the Empire of Nuevaropa on the world of Paradise regrouping after their defeat of the Grey Angel Raguel and its horde of mindless humans (along with some fully-aware knights and nobles who followed the angel willingly out of self-interest). The emperor returns with his court to the capital, but the victory is hollow. Apart from the appalling loss of life and the fear that another Grey Angel may come to launch a follow-up crusade against mankind, the court is creaking under the intrigue of rival factions. On one side, there's Princess Melodia, who finds herself sidelined at court, back to being daddy's girl, despite her success as a light cavalry (which means horse cavalry on a world where heavy mounts are usually duck-billed dinosaurs, but can also include ceratopsians and the big carnivores) commander during the war. But even worse, Duke Falk — the man who imprisoned and raped her while scheming to take control of the empire — has also survived the battle, and due to his bravery defending the her father, the emperor, he's hailed as a hero and keeps a senior position in the government. Worst of all, Melodia knows that if she calls Falk out, the political chaos could cause a civil war (if anyone believed her) and Falk, knowing this, takes every opportunity to cast glances and verbally needle her, savouring her inability to respond. But Melodia has a powerful ally: her many-times-great grandmother, who returns to the capital to school the princess in the castle's hidden secrets, arranges for her to learn to fight astride dinosaurs, and helps her learn palace intrigue and prepare to take revenge, because no-one goes after the old lady's family and lives to tell the tale. But Falk isn't alone either: his scheming mother has arrived and made a bee-line for the emperor's bed to cement her family's control. Meanwhile, the renegade noble Karyl has been welcomed back into the fold after leading the attack against the angel (and, specifically, after his allosaurus, Shiraa, ate it), along with his sidekick, Rob the dinosaur trainer. But the good times don't last for the pair when Karyl is visited by the queen of the supernatural fae, who has her own designs against humanity. And if that isn't enough, the emperor's youngest daughter, Princess Montse is kidnapped, with another country seemingly to blame, and Melodia's fiance Jaume and his squad of knights have to try to rescue her before war breaks out.

As with its predecessors, The Dinosaur Princess is one hell of a fun ride, treating readers to knight-on-dinosaur mashup action; court intrigue; well-rounded, believable characters; and a lush world combining elements of Medieval warfare, the style of ancient Mexican and South American empires, and, of course, dinosaurs. It's rewarding to see Melodia continue to develop as a character as she picks up skills with new tools to survive both dinosaur combat and life-and-death plots against rival families within the castle walls. Karyl and Rob are also characters that I couldn't wait to see more of from chapter to chapter as the noble tries to hold up under the political and seemingly supernatural pressures piled on top of him while coming to terms with his new lease on life, and his salt-of-the-earth sidekick thrives under new responsibilities, even as he longs for his old carefree days. As always, I also have to take my hat off to artist Richard Anderson for the wonderful sketches at the head of each chapter, and especially the cover art, which just explodes off of the book and into your brain.

And while I can't find any flaws within the story of The Dinosaur Princess itself, the overall series may be weakened by the possibility that it will remain incomplete. Tragically, Victor Milan died this past winter. The man had real talent that will be missed from the genre (his contributions to the Wildcards mosaic novels were great, and I'm sure others can sing the praises of his other novels), and his death leaves The Dinosaur Lords series hanging. That's because The Dinosaur Princess is only half a book. Just like The Dinosaur Lords was half a story, and needed The Dinosaur Knights to complete the tale of the battle against the Grey Angel's crusade, there needs to be more to tie-off the plot threads The Dinosaur Princess leaves dangling, and to give the reader a sense of completeness, or, at least, wholeness to the story. George RR Martin, a friend of Milan's, has speculated that Milan "may have another book or two in his DINOSAUR LORDS [sic] sequence coming out, but I am not sure of that." As fans of the series, we can hope that's the case, and that capable editors at Tor, possibly with the help of other writers (as we saw with Kevin J Anderson finishing The Wheel of Time series after the death of Robert Jordan), will be able to work with whatever drafts and/or notes Milan left behind to wrap things up.

If that's not the case, and there is insufficient material to work with, or an unwillingness from the publishing house or the author's estate to continue the project, then the question becomes how should someone new to the series approach it? Is it even worth reading, in the absence of an end to The Dinosaur Princess' storyline, never mind the overall plot of the series? I know some readers who are completists, and won't touch a series if the author hasn't seen it to its end. But these stories, this world, and these characters are just too good to not experience. If there's nothing further, I'd be tempted to suggest that someone new to the series could just read The Dinosaur Lords and The Dinosaur Knights. There's enough closure with the success of the battle against the Grey Angel to satisfy a completist. Does that mean that The Dinosaur Princess should then be ignored? Not necessarily. I think that anyone who really enjoys the first two books should definitely read TDP. Sure, they might be left hanging, but even if things are left open, does that matter? The Dinosaur Princess is a sufficiently good, if incomplete, story on its own to be worth reading. And, let's not forget what Emperor Londo Mollari admonished his young audience in Babylon 5: In the Beginning: "The story... is not over yet. The story is never over." So enjoy The Dinosaur Princess for what it is, as a single moment in time. More story left untold, perhaps, but more open trails for dinosaurs to tread in your imagination.


Daughter of Eden, by Chris Beckett

What if you had a chance to meet your gods? What if they didn't live up to your expectations? What if the story they told, and the values they held, were different than what you believed?

As much as Daughter of Eden features civilizations coming to terms with the reality of their gods and the durability of their beliefs and identity, this final book in Chris Beckett's Dark Eden trilogy is about the little people. Where Dark Eden focussed on John Redlantern, a combination Cain and Moses figure, inventor, and breaker and builder of civilizations; and Mother of Eden was about Starlight, a messianic figure and one of the great beauties of Eden, who tries to bring compassion to a people; Daughter of Eden is about Angie, a regular peasant who's just trying to get by.  When her island community is taken over by the hard-line religious culture of the mainland (or Mainground, as it's known), Angie's people disperse and in order to survive she has to fall in with a small forest tribe of a different faith; marry (after a fashion) and have kids with a simple-minded man; occasionally allow his brother, the one-handed chief (who's a bit of a bully stuck in the memory of his glory days with the army), to have sex with her; and endure prejudice from the others for being a foreigner from a religious/political/cultural minority and because she's a "batface" (a person with an extreme form of harelip, one of the conditions common among the population of Eden due to extensive inbreeding). But Angie is intelligent and practical, and does what she has to in order to live and provide for her children. The story alternates between this present and her youth, just after the dissolution of her home community, when she took to the road as the assistant to a priestess (the people of Eden worship the policewoman/astronaut/castaway who was the mother of their race), criss-crossing Mainground from the towns and villages on the coast to the original settlement in a valley beyond the mountains where their astronaut forebears were stranded. In that past, Angie sees the importance of religious belief to the Maingrounders' self-image and ability to deal with the hardships of life, and she learns what can happen when an intelligent person questions those beliefs and is honest enough to admit a life among the faithful may not be for her. Meanwhile, in the present, Angie witnesses the arrival of an invasion fleet from New Earth (a nation with a similar but somewhat different religion — think Protestants as opposed to Catholics — founded by John after he and his followers fled Mainground generations before). As the New Earth soldiers with their superior weaponry begin their brutal conquest, Angie and her people flee across the mountains to humanity's original home on Eden, arriving, coincidentally, just before a scientific expedition from Earth. After hundreds of years, humanity has decided to find the planet its first experimental starship went to when it was stolen, and to see if there are any traces of the rogue astronauts or the police who tried to bring them home. When the Earthlings introduce themselves, first to Angie, then to their other local cousins, the people of Eden — Maingrounders and New Earthers alike, as well as other, smaller civilizations — must come to grips with the reality of meeting gods whose stories and worldview don't match up with their own.

Daughter of Eden is a smart, intelligent, and absorbing page-turner of a book. It's strength is in Beckett's shifting of gears to focus on the life and perspective of a normal person who's generally at the mercy of the more powerful people around her, and her culture, but who ultimately is important (as the regular people of the world usually are, despite credit usually going to the great) to how events play out. Angie is important not just for being the first one to spot the New Earth invasion fleet, or to make first contact with the astronauts and act as a cultural liaison to them, or discover a long-lost holy relic, but because she (again, a normal person, not one of the leaders) is the one who is telling this story, a story that will be heard by many of the communities on her world as she assumes a new role at the end of the novel. She has a voice. Despite being one of the typically downtrodden, she is a person with agency. Despite being one of the little people, she matters.

Moreover, once we meet the new astronauts and they begin to share history about the original incident involving the starship and information about the Edenites' progenitor/goddess Gela, and when they begin to share recordings left by her, we begin to see that she was a regular person too. One with flaws and worries and no grand schemes about creating a holy legacy. As Angie (and the others) learn all of this, she realizes that even gods can be little people too. That little people can be important. That they can build new, lasting things and shape the world around them.

We also see (through Angie's eyes) the new astronauts having to change their worldview too. At first, they have to get their heads around an entire world full of humans descended from just two people, not just surviving, but thriving in spite of the genetic problems from massive inbreeding, lack of modern technology or contact with Earth, and having to adapt to an alien lifestyle under the dim light of glowing trees in the darkness of a rogue, starless planet orbiting the galaxy. They have to get past their initial pity and revulsion for a people who (due to their genetic abnormalities, nutritional deficiencies, and environmental conditions) look different from Earthlings and who live in violent, technologically primitive, religious fundamentalist cultures. They have to deal with the disappointment of being confronted by a people who are disappointed that the astronauts' statement of facts has challenged accepted dogmas on Eden. And they have to see the potential in some of Eden's inhabitants to become more than they are.

A few years ago, I stumbled on Dark Eden by accident and picked it up on the strength of it's win of the 2013 Arthur C Clarke Award, and, most of all, because of its back cover description of descendants of interstellar castaways living in the biological lamplight of trees on a planet of darkness. I was glad I did, and I'm just as glad now that Daughter of Eden has wrapped things up as strongly as the series began. Buy this book.