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frasersimons
On a re read. This Still not quite a five star read, I think. Despite it being brilliant at a few things: the politics, insinuation of complex philosophy, specially around religion, and the social constructs which power is continually built around, and the worldbuilding around the culture and ecology of the planet—there is still the reduction of the Baron as a very shallow character, a very rushed ending (especially the last chapter), and some of the dialogue not being good, especially during plot events, feeling forced, overdramatized, and sometimes laughable.
It’s too bad that as complex as the macro antagonist is, serving to interrogate white saviours/knights, larger power structures through embodiments of them, and, to some degree, humanity as a whole, the Baron is such a caricature of “evil” and little more than a catalyst for some plot beats. Obese, gay, and a pedophile, it really accentuates some of the poor thinking in the scifi space when this was written, and is unfortunate. Some people, I’m sure, excuse it easily because of its significance, but plenty of classics manage to avoid pitfalls and are written far before. But scifi being rooted in less literary efforts did and still does cling to more commercial aspects, with authors falling into these kinds of pitfalls, I’ve found. It’s often contradictory too, in contrast to larger themes, just like here. Everything is nuanced except for the Baron and how basic that house is, versus the noble Atredies. Thankfully, the next book, which is my favourite of the trilogy, is superior to this one, from what I remember.
I just saw the second movie and it made me want to compare what I saw with what I remembered. I thought the fight between Paul and na baron whomever was was shorter in the book, but I think I actually was remembering the old sci-fi miniseries (which, is actually really good and in some ways superior to the movies, but clearly not as good in most other ways), but most other things I remembered correctly. It’s a good onboarding point for people though. The basic plot beats still make for a fun story in the movies, but what I most like about the books are the philosophy and worldbuilding, which you don’t get in the movies nearly as much. Not to mention the other major changes to Chani (sp?) and Paul’s sister, or people suspecting Jessica, no politics or dinner after they land at the start, etc. etc. But I am most sad about my favourite part of the entire book not being in either of the movies: ‘I was a friend of Jamis. He taught me that when you kill, you pay for it’. Not including it in the movie is kind of baffling, to be honest.
Because of the multiverse implications Paul has, I suppose you could consider the movies just an alternate timeline. One where Paul is ironically perhaps more moral, with an externalized moral delimma, and the women in his life having more autonomy, but ultimately, depending on what happens in the third movie, still having the fall out of the holy war emerge. I suppose we shall see.
I hope my fondness for the second book remains. Less action and far more centered on the thematics. My kind of stuff, typically.
4.5 rounded down
It’s too bad that as complex as the macro antagonist is, serving to interrogate white saviours/knights, larger power structures through embodiments of them, and, to some degree, humanity as a whole, the Baron is such a caricature of “evil” and little more than a catalyst for some plot beats. Obese, gay, and a pedophile, it really accentuates some of the poor thinking in the scifi space when this was written, and is unfortunate. Some people, I’m sure, excuse it easily because of its significance, but plenty of classics manage to avoid pitfalls and are written far before. But scifi being rooted in less literary efforts did and still does cling to more commercial aspects, with authors falling into these kinds of pitfalls, I’ve found. It’s often contradictory too, in contrast to larger themes, just like here. Everything is nuanced except for the Baron and how basic that house is, versus the noble Atredies. Thankfully, the next book, which is my favourite of the trilogy, is superior to this one, from what I remember.
I just saw the second movie and it made me want to compare what I saw with what I remembered. I thought the fight between Paul and na baron whomever was was shorter in the book, but I think I actually was remembering the old sci-fi miniseries (which, is actually really good and in some ways superior to the movies, but clearly not as good in most other ways), but most other things I remembered correctly. It’s a good onboarding point for people though. The basic plot beats still make for a fun story in the movies, but what I most like about the books are the philosophy and worldbuilding, which you don’t get in the movies nearly as much. Not to mention the other major changes to Chani (sp?) and Paul’s sister, or people suspecting Jessica, no politics or dinner after they land at the start, etc. etc. But I am most sad about my favourite part of the entire book not being in either of the movies: ‘I was a friend of Jamis. He taught me that when you kill, you pay for it’. Not including it in the movie is kind of baffling, to be honest.
Because of the multiverse implications Paul has, I suppose you could consider the movies just an alternate timeline. One where Paul is ironically perhaps more moral, with an externalized moral delimma, and the women in his life having more autonomy, but ultimately, depending on what happens in the third movie, still having the fall out of the holy war emerge. I suppose we shall see.
I hope my fondness for the second book remains. Less action and far more centered on the thematics. My kind of stuff, typically.
4.5 rounded down
2024 re read:
I think if this and the first book was a duology it could be a near flawless and complete story. This book fixes and addresses everything about the first book that needed to be and the character work and dialogue, as well as thematics, are all just so much improved. As a bonus, we haven’t gone absolutely gonzo yet, like in the coming books.
Paul is shown to be incontestably fallible and merely the lesser of two evils compared to what could have been, had he not done what he did. But that is questionable, considering his inability to see certain things throughout the narrative. Because he is only able to assimilate generational knowledge he is still unable to be morally good nor make his empire function that way, despite wishing it. He can only think and see as a person raised by and constructed by manmade frameworks, so has less autonomy than he’s ascribed.
This is the major theme of this book, and though it relies entirely on the first books framework, it is far more interesting than the first, in my opinion. We see Paul clearly for what he is, the white saviour deconstructed and situated in other oppressive systems than remove autonomy from everyone else, all to perpetuate the system of mans inability to form a holistic and Good relationship to nature. In the end, the only things that are truly lasting is man succumbing to nature and its domination of it but a matter of minuscule time, as far as nature is concerned.
Further exploration of autonomy is Duncan returned, and his struggle—and direct externalization of the same thing Paul and Aliya similarly struggle with—to determine how they might obtain agency and autonomy in manmade systems. In Duncan’s case literally manmade, in Aliya’s, being subsumed in the same way as Paul, just from the female perspective, neither her nor Paul having a combination of the male and female balance talked about in the first book.
Where other books have similar tropes, such as Duncan serving as a catalyst for downfall and danger by the conspiracy, it’s nice that a) Duncan is a male honeypot, a subtle subversion and b) it illustrated at a macro level Why those tropey plotting and schemes might work against Paul and company: They are still human and raised in human systems. So, Aliya is susceptible to sexual manipulation, possibly, because she doesn’t have the embodiment to realize how she’s being manipulated, when it’s just simple biology for her age and hormones, and Duncan being her type (as a really basic dumbing down). And Paul’s clinging to some heroic notion of who he is, as much as is possible, could be brought down by not allowing himself to exist, if the right conditions are met. It is Way better of an antagonist setup than the dull caricature Baron, and it makes overt that Paul himself, and social constructs themselves are the “big bads”, and that it is not, once again, a white saviour story.
I have to say, I think it’s absolutely brilliant and this book is by far and away the best of the two original trilogies. It’s an unpopular opinion, but I think this is better written, far, far more tight, and a fantastic counterpoint to the original. I’ll have to think about it some more, but this one could be an all time favourite now.
First reading:
To be honest, I’m not sure why some people are disappointed in this. Feels like a very nice continuation of everything unresolved in the first book and continues deconstructing the hero’s journey to a satisfying conclusion.
I did not miss the heavier politicking, especially when the Baron was such a caricature (signalling Herbert had some reflecting to do, imo). The slow pace focusing on the philosophical was pretty much jam tbh. Sad tone. Making it clear what Paul was. I dare say it was more satisfying than the first book.
I think if this and the first book was a duology it could be a near flawless and complete story. This book fixes and addresses everything about the first book that needed to be and the character work and dialogue, as well as thematics, are all just so much improved. As a bonus, we haven’t gone absolutely gonzo yet, like in the coming books.
Paul is shown to be incontestably fallible and merely the lesser of two evils compared to what could have been, had he not done what he did. But that is questionable, considering his inability to see certain things throughout the narrative. Because he is only able to assimilate generational knowledge he is still unable to be morally good nor make his empire function that way, despite wishing it. He can only think and see as a person raised by and constructed by manmade frameworks, so has less autonomy than he’s ascribed.
This is the major theme of this book, and though it relies entirely on the first books framework, it is far more interesting than the first, in my opinion. We see Paul clearly for what he is, the white saviour deconstructed and situated in other oppressive systems than remove autonomy from everyone else, all to perpetuate the system of mans inability to form a holistic and Good relationship to nature. In the end, the only things that are truly lasting is man succumbing to nature and its domination of it but a matter of minuscule time, as far as nature is concerned.
Further exploration of autonomy is Duncan returned, and his struggle—and direct externalization of the same thing Paul and Aliya similarly struggle with—to determine how they might obtain agency and autonomy in manmade systems. In Duncan’s case literally manmade, in Aliya’s, being subsumed in the same way as Paul, just from the female perspective, neither her nor Paul having a combination of the male and female balance talked about in the first book.
Where other books have similar tropes, such as Duncan serving as a catalyst for downfall and danger by the conspiracy, it’s nice that a) Duncan is a male honeypot, a subtle subversion and b) it illustrated at a macro level Why those tropey plotting and schemes might work against Paul and company: They are still human and raised in human systems. So, Aliya is susceptible to sexual manipulation, possibly, because she doesn’t have the embodiment to realize how she’s being manipulated, when it’s just simple biology for her age and hormones, and Duncan being her type (as a really basic dumbing down). And Paul’s clinging to some heroic notion of who he is, as much as is possible, could be brought down by not allowing himself to exist, if the right conditions are met. It is Way better of an antagonist setup than the dull caricature Baron, and it makes overt that Paul himself, and social constructs themselves are the “big bads”, and that it is not, once again, a white saviour story.
I have to say, I think it’s absolutely brilliant and this book is by far and away the best of the two original trilogies. It’s an unpopular opinion, but I think this is better written, far, far more tight, and a fantastic counterpoint to the original. I’ll have to think about it some more, but this one could be an all time favourite now.
First reading:
To be honest, I’m not sure why some people are disappointed in this. Feels like a very nice continuation of everything unresolved in the first book and continues deconstructing the hero’s journey to a satisfying conclusion.
I did not miss the heavier politicking, especially when the Baron was such a caricature (signalling Herbert had some reflecting to do, imo). The slow pace focusing on the philosophical was pretty much jam tbh. Sad tone. Making it clear what Paul was. I dare say it was more satisfying than the first book.
I think this is pretty solid. If you’re like me, you’ll be curious why Fred is called the title of the short story and why he turned from Earth. It underscores belter values versus Earthers, and it’s quite a quick read.
If you’re looking for a continuation of the first novel though, as the numbering kind of suggests, you won’t find it here. Some of the short stories contribute to the larger plot, some feel more necessary than others. The only one I remember loving years later is Amos’ The Churn.
If you’re looking for a continuation of the first novel though, as the numbering kind of suggests, you won’t find it here. Some of the short stories contribute to the larger plot, some feel more necessary than others. The only one I remember loving years later is Amos’ The Churn.
It’s nice to get a snapshot of mars. Bobby is one of my favourite characters too, but she isn’t the main focus. Instead, a family member of hers gets in trouble in a pretty trite way and she helps him deal with it, with it ending in a way that shows what she did before she was in her quarters in the next novel. David is quintessentially a teen here, obstinate and horny, which is a viewpoint that I couldn’t care less about. Still, it does what it’s supposed to.
A fun novella about the Epstein drive that weirdly gets slotted into before the expanse books, or after God of Risk. This didn’t do much for me, but it’s fun enough.
Listen, nobody puts Timmy in a corner, okay? Yep, I do still love this little novella. Years ago I was surprised to find something cyberpunk in the expanse series. The previous short stories and novellas are fine, but nothing to write home about, for me. This is head and shoulders above those though.
The world building for the characters and what has become of Earth is not only good, but evocative and atmospheric. We were already introduced to the idea of everyone mostly living off of basic, if I recall. But now we see that it’s not as utopian as you’d expect. In cyberpunk fashion, the only means of truly getting agency is through technology, and that tech has been coopted from the more powerful and adapted. Despite everyone ostensibly having a home and an income, in the seedy underbelly, ownership of human beings is still around, along with crime and various illegal substances.
The Churn is a great bit of phrasing for the re ordering of power structures and people when shit hits the fan. On brand with something like cyberpunk 2020 the roleplaying game, the creator Pondsmith has said something like, cyberpunk isn’t about saving the world, it’s about trying to save yourself. Seeing as The Expanse is based on a tabletop roleplaying game experience too, I imagine there’s some intersections there. Either way, this doesn’t have cyberspace and hacking, rather a very human experience of the future where stark scarcity in a modern technologically advanced era means evading real power and trying to live off of the dregs.
The only real way to not play the game is to leave, and the only way to leave is to have means or power, unless you manage to take it for yourself, and accept the cost that comes with that decision—if you survive the choice.
4.5 rounded up because I really enjoy this.
The world building for the characters and what has become of Earth is not only good, but evocative and atmospheric. We were already introduced to the idea of everyone mostly living off of basic, if I recall. But now we see that it’s not as utopian as you’d expect. In cyberpunk fashion, the only means of truly getting agency is through technology, and that tech has been coopted from the more powerful and adapted. Despite everyone ostensibly having a home and an income, in the seedy underbelly, ownership of human beings is still around, along with crime and various illegal substances.
The Churn is a great bit of phrasing for the re ordering of power structures and people when shit hits the fan. On brand with something like cyberpunk 2020 the roleplaying game, the creator Pondsmith has said something like, cyberpunk isn’t about saving the world, it’s about trying to save yourself. Seeing as The Expanse is based on a tabletop roleplaying game experience too, I imagine there’s some intersections there. Either way, this doesn’t have cyberspace and hacking, rather a very human experience of the future where stark scarcity in a modern technologically advanced era means evading real power and trying to live off of the dregs.
The only real way to not play the game is to leave, and the only way to leave is to have means or power, unless you manage to take it for yourself, and accept the cost that comes with that decision—if you survive the choice.
4.5 rounded up because I really enjoy this.
Video review: https://youtu.be/6I5FTLaVmIA
The plot is very simple, really. Though it is and it isn’t what JR is about. A young, 11 year-old boy goes on a field trip and as a educational outing, every kid purchases $1 in stock. JR leverages that stock, and through a series of loop holes and above-board legalities, ends up creating an empire. Almost a mega corporation. Though not quite. Every other character essentially comes to work for the boy, knowingly or otherwise, though they all think they’re engaging in their own business.
I have a lot to say on this one. Basically, I see it a very biting and angry text, one that does it level best to elicit that frustration presumably the author feels with capitalism directly into the text. And it worked. For me, at least.
2/3 of it is dialogue and it doesn’t use dialogue tags as you might expect. Rather there is verbal ticks and a probably unusual amount of name referencing. But it feels very organic, even as everyone is talking over someone else. It’s also very explicit in what it’s about. Satirical on both a macro and micro level. Characters will just lay it out there. What isn’t being said—literally—is that each, in every situation, is in a conflict that is unceasing and present in every granular interaction.
The idea of artistic freedom and the nourishment it affords, versus the systemic pieces of capitalism moving against those endeavours and people. Crucially, every person is a proponent of one or the other, depending on the situation. Music is often used as a short hand to show that, essentially, people are either a part of the symphonic music as artists, or they are merely noise. Interrupting, repeating, grating, nailing, penetrating noise. They halt all thought. All progress.
In the end, every character is nuanced and contradictory. A part of the system that continues to manufacture and co-opt people into the components capitalism requires to survive and propagate itself. Best we can hope for is recognizing it, making fun of it, cease to be The Noise.
The granular humour is less of interest to me. Dick and fart jokes to more high brow stuff. The incredible thing about the novel is the marriage of form and structure and the way dialogue functions completely differently. It’s an accomplishment. I respected the frustrating parts because the point was to elicit frustration. Not every reader is going to feel that way. Boy, was it grating until it came together. But it did. It’s a 4.5 rounded up.
The plot is very simple, really. Though it is and it isn’t what JR is about. A young, 11 year-old boy goes on a field trip and as a educational outing, every kid purchases $1 in stock. JR leverages that stock, and through a series of loop holes and above-board legalities, ends up creating an empire. Almost a mega corporation. Though not quite. Every other character essentially comes to work for the boy, knowingly or otherwise, though they all think they’re engaging in their own business.
I have a lot to say on this one. Basically, I see it a very biting and angry text, one that does it level best to elicit that frustration presumably the author feels with capitalism directly into the text. And it worked. For me, at least.
2/3 of it is dialogue and it doesn’t use dialogue tags as you might expect. Rather there is verbal ticks and a probably unusual amount of name referencing. But it feels very organic, even as everyone is talking over someone else. It’s also very explicit in what it’s about. Satirical on both a macro and micro level. Characters will just lay it out there. What isn’t being said—literally—is that each, in every situation, is in a conflict that is unceasing and present in every granular interaction.
The idea of artistic freedom and the nourishment it affords, versus the systemic pieces of capitalism moving against those endeavours and people. Crucially, every person is a proponent of one or the other, depending on the situation. Music is often used as a short hand to show that, essentially, people are either a part of the symphonic music as artists, or they are merely noise. Interrupting, repeating, grating, nailing, penetrating noise. They halt all thought. All progress.
In the end, every character is nuanced and contradictory. A part of the system that continues to manufacture and co-opt people into the components capitalism requires to survive and propagate itself. Best we can hope for is recognizing it, making fun of it, cease to be The Noise.
The granular humour is less of interest to me. Dick and fart jokes to more high brow stuff. The incredible thing about the novel is the marriage of form and structure and the way dialogue functions completely differently. It’s an accomplishment. I respected the frustrating parts because the point was to elicit frustration. Not every reader is going to feel that way. Boy, was it grating until it came together. But it did. It’s a 4.5 rounded up.
I watched American Fiction first, which robbed this, somewhat, of the central premise being as surprising and interesting as it is. Though, the book is different enough than the movie that it makes for a very fun companion piece. But I think I was hoping for even more keen insight to come from the MC, instead finding a lot more wit in the humour than the thematics.
It is also a lot more funny and even more of a deliberately satirical bent than the film, and probably has a bit more nuanced characters along with it. I find Everett very pleasing in so far as he does not hold the readers’ hand. There is a lot of grey space in how the novel within the novel portrays stereotypical black lives while not being overt in its criticisms, breaking down and explaining it, which is what a lot of books in the space attempting to do that do. But they aren’t satire either. And that interplay here, between the critique being satirical and the meta participation of the story, makes this read as very fresh and interesting. It is neither prescriptive nor does it hold back an opinion on complicated issues that you get the feeling, summon up some amount of anger in the author, though that’s just pure supposition and projection when reading something like this.
It is also a lot more funny and even more of a deliberately satirical bent than the film, and probably has a bit more nuanced characters along with it. I find Everett very pleasing in so far as he does not hold the readers’ hand. There is a lot of grey space in how the novel within the novel portrays stereotypical black lives while not being overt in its criticisms, breaking down and explaining it, which is what a lot of books in the space attempting to do that do. But they aren’t satire either. And that interplay here, between the critique being satirical and the meta participation of the story, makes this read as very fresh and interesting. It is neither prescriptive nor does it hold back an opinion on complicated issues that you get the feeling, summon up some amount of anger in the author, though that’s just pure supposition and projection when reading something like this.
I still really like the setting in this, and it only gets more interesting in this one. I didn’t really remember the first book, other than it had a fun murder mystery, which this did not have, relying on the intrigue between houses and other powers to drive the narrative. It mostly succeeds at doing so, but does also have some dragging points, for me, since I was not that interested in that angle of the setting.
