Picking up several months after the events of its predecessor, we find James Holden, who had survived the Eros event and started a system-wide war between the various planetary factions, is now running missions for the Outer Planets Alliance. At the same time, Earth and Mars have returned to an uneasy relationship, with their forces ready to open up on one another across numerous fronts. Praxidike Meng, a botanist on the breadbasket of the Outer Planets, Ganymede, finds his daughter has been kidnapped after a mysterious threat is encountered by UN and Martian Marines. The two groups of Marines are attacked, leaving a single survivor: Gunnery Sergeant Bobbie Draper, who is ordered to accompany Martian diplomats to Earth to sort out what happened. There, she meets Chrisjen Avasarala, a UN politician working to prevent outright war between various factions of the Solar System.

Where I’d describe Leviathan Wakes as a robust space opera story, Caliban’s War strays far closer to the Military Science Fiction subgenre. This book is packed with quite a bit of military action from the get-go, and throughout the novel, it’s approached in a well-thought-out way. When the bullets aren’t flying, we see a considerable amount of political work that help make up the backend of any military action, which keeps up a certain amount of tension and adds depth to the book as a whole. The result is a military science fiction novel that gets both the action and the motivations for fighting right on.

Following the end of Leviathan Wakes, with the death of one of the central characters, Corey introduces a number of new characters: notably, Bobbie, the Martian Marine gunnery sergeant who survives an early encounter with what appears to be a new form of the protomolocule. In addition to Bobbie, Praxidike Meng, a botanist from Ganymede plays a key role in the search for his daughter and Chrisjen Avasarala, a UN Undersecretary of Executive Administration have come in to accompany New Characters, trying to get everyone to listen to one another. As a whole, the entire group of new faces is a welcome one, keeping the relationships between the existing characters interesting. Each are nicely assembled with some familiar parts: the tough as nails Marine, the somewhat clueless scientist, and the hard ass politician, and have some other points that round them all out nicely: Bobbie suffering deeply from the loss of her platoon, and Avasarala’s about face personality when it comes to her grandchildren. Bobbie Draper in particular has become one of my favorite characters in the series thus far. Tough and determined, Draper is a great example of a strong female character that doesn’t really conform to a lot of the molds, and one that wasn’t thrown into the series to simply fill out the gender balance.

Caliban’s War follows a similar formula as Leviathan Wakes did: a girl vanishes, people attempt to find her, Holden tries to broadcast information to the solar system, all while big picture political elements are at work towards their own nefarious ends, before quite a lot of action happens. It’s not a bad formula to follow, and while the story doesn’t retell the first one, it does make it predictable at points. Following an exciting opening, the predictability allowed some of the necessary setup to slow down the book for a while, before the last act brings all of the diverse elements together and end the book with a bang. As the story accelerates towards the finish line, so to does the stakes, and this second novel becomes a fantastic bridge for the rest of the presumed trilogy. (There are a further four books and several short stories planned at this point). A major cliff-hanger moment down to the last line of the book makes me hope that at some point, HBO will pick up the books for a television series.

Like Leviathan’s Wake, the two authors who comprise James S.A. Corey, Daniel Abraham and Ty Franck, have done a knock-out job when it comes to the world that they’ve created. Hearty, durable and dripping with details, Caliban’s War gives you all of the major food groups and desert. They layer on some new details that weren’t extensively covered in the first book through the new characters, and we’re privy to new parts of the Solar System that open up the world even more. If anything, Caliban’s War does an even better job with working in the world, sustaining the storyline while not having to introduce the reader to a completely new world and storyline. If anything, it’s more focused and to the point, while covering a lot of ground towards what is building up to be an epic time in the solar system.

I really enjoyed Leviathan Wakes, and Caliban’s War is a fantastic addition to what I suspect will be a great series of books. For all of the talk about science fiction going away in favor of urban fantasy or some other spectrum of speculative fiction, it does a great job showing that the stories that can be told in space aren’t going anywhere, all while blending great storytelling and characters, and giving us a new world to look forward to revisiting.

Megan and I had our wedding on Saturday. While we were officially married a year ago in June, we had planned on holding our wedding at the same time, so that our families and friends could celebrate with us. I’m finally getting back to the world after taking a couple of days away from everything, but, to everyone who came, thank you.

Thank you to Sam, Eric, Dan, Karyn, Krista and Amanda, for being part of the wedding party. Thank you to Bart, who was our officiant, to our respective parents, Joy Worley-Charles and Ellen and Alan Liptak, for their support and assistance. Thank you to Erich, for the sounds, and Michelle, for the pictures, and a major thank you to the weather patterns across Lititz for holding off on the clouds.

Thank you to each and every one of our guests who came from California, Pennsylvania, Arizona, Washington DC, Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire, New York, New Jersey and Ohio. You brought gifts and cards, but most of all, you brought some fantastic memories. Cards will be in the mail shortly, and I apologize for missing people throughout the course of the day.

The day was fantastic with great weather and a bunch of surprises: walking in to music from Star Wars: A New Hope, with everyone waving tiny lightsabers. Our photographer was wonderful, and I had a fantastic day with my favorite person in the world.

I couldn’t ask for a better celebration – thank you everyone.

A couple of months ago, I went to the Sullivan Museum and History Museum at Norwich University for a talk by one of the history professors, Dr. Steven Sodergren, as part of an exhibit series on the Civil War. His talk was about the specific motivations for individuals on each side of the Civil War, refuting the idea that there was a uniform block of support behind both the Union and Confederate governments. Some Southern states, when the decision came to vote on the decision to split from the United States, had a close majority: no more than 55-60% of the population supporting the idea, leaving a substantial chunk in opposition.

The idea behind the talk was a sound one, taking on the idea of the very nature of taught history: it’s not as simple as it’s made out to be. History is a difficult topic to convey to a large audience: big, complicated and multi-facetted, the very instruction of the field is just as enlightening as a separate topic. The Civil War was never quite as clear cut when it came to the motivations of the soldiers on the field: according to Sodergren, it was a deeply personal and difficult choice for everyone who took up arms. More recently, a talk on VPR with Vermont Historian Howard Coffin noted that looking at enlistment numbers is important: high initially, support dropped off following the first major battles when bodies began to return home.

I recently presented a paper at the New England Historical Association, where I talked about Norwich University’s efforts during the Battle of the Bulge. My panel’s commentator noted that between the papers, there’s a high level view of history, with the strategy and big decisions, and the ground level, with the individual soldiers fighting: my paper bridged the gap, telling the story of the Bulge through the soldiers who fought there, but also how their actions played into a much larger story. Their own actions were far from singular: they spanned the entire command structure, from a Private First Class to a Major General. In our continued study of Norwich History, my wife and I have found soldiers who enlisted in foreign militaries prior to the United States’ entry into the Second World War, while others were drafted.

A recent article by Slate Magazine caught my eye: How Space-Age Nostalgia Hobbles Our Future: Contrary to popular belief, public support for space exploration in the 1960s was far from universal. It’s an interesting read, presenting a very contrary view to the supposed popularity of the Apollo program during the 1960s-1970s. Far from the major popular support that we perceive, the public approval rating for the program only hit a majority around the time that Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin landed on the moon, and individual accounts from around the country shows that there was a wide range of opinions as to the value of the program. Support for the space programs also varied wildly depending on age group, and undoubtedly, on location as well.

Looking at political records from the time, there’s also an important story when it comes to how Congress approved wartime funding: the public easily remembers President John F. Kennedy’s speech at Rice University. The reality of actually funding the space program is far more complicated, with competing national priorities. Even Kennedy’s speech, while influential, isn’t so clear cut: it was designed in the aftermath of the failed Bay of Pigs Invasion, and was issued to help divert attention away from the administration’s blunder.

A book that I particularly detest is Victor David Hanson’s Carnage and Culture: Landmark Battles in the Rise of Western Power, an enormously popular and reviled book on the nature of culture and war: he outlines that the very nature of democracy makes a standing military inherently stronger, because the individual soldiers have a stake in their government and by extension, their destiny. It’s a very appealing, straight-cut assumption, and one that breaks down when one considers the enormous complexity inherent in a democratic nation: no sane person makes the decision to take up arms for their country lightly, and Hanson’s text does a disservice to the historical community by overly simplifying a situation that shouldn’t be simplified.

In a lot of ways, this falls under the same public mentality that spawned the Greatest Generation from the Second World War and the Lost Cause line of thinking from the Civil War. Looking even further back into our nation’s history, the War for Independence was likewise far from universally supported! Another specific example from one of my instructor’s talks was the Boston Tea Party: essentially a rebranded name in an age of nostalgia to smooth over the fact that the ‘Destruction of the Tea’ was committed by political radicals.

I often wonder as I hear political reminiscing about the space age or the greatest generation or of Lincoln’s efforts, whether people throughout the ages understand that the rosy memories upon which we build the future on is really nothing more than a shared fabrication, and why we reject the complicated story for something that has been watered down to the point that it’s contrary to the original message.

History is our most wonderful, complicated Mandelbrot set that continues to bring out new levels and stories. Dr. Sodergren’s talk highlighted a key point in how we approach history: it becomes defined by its major outcomes, as opposed to the actions that lead up to them, and increasingly, it feels as though the lessons that we can learn are missed, overlooked or simply ignored.

Who knows, though? Maybe we need the simple stories.

My first column on Science Fiction / Fantasy history is now up on Kirkus Reviews! For this first post, I couldn’t think of a better place to start than Mary Shelley’s creation of Frankenstein in 1816 during a summer trip to Geneva, Switzerland. Frankenstein isn’t the first root of the genre, but it is a solid one that has since been built on. You can read the article here on Kirkus Reviews.

A couple of books that I used for the research for this article were:

• The letters of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley and edited by Betty T Bennett. A three volumn collection of Shelley’s letters, which provided a great insight into her life around the time of her writing the book.
• Survey of Science Fiction Literature, by Frank Northen Magill. This is an academic survey that I recently picked up that has essays from thousands of SF/F novels up to around the 1970s. Great series of reviews of books, which also provides an incredible amount of background on the author and a critical look at the literature.
• Frankenstein (Norton Critical Editions) by Mary Shelley and J. Paul Hunter. This edition provides the original text of the novel, plus extras: commentary, a couple of letters, and several reviews of the novel from when the book was first published.

Click for full image

Contracts have been signed, the post has been scheduled, and I can announce this now: I’ve been brought on board Kirkus Reviews as a columnist, where John DeNardo of SF Signal has been writing for the last couple of months. I’m pretty excited about this, because it’s an opportunity where I can blend two of my long-standing interests together: History, and Science Fiction.

Starting in June, I’ll be heading up a bi-weekly column that will examine (in small bites) the history of the science fiction genre by looking at the authors, books, trends and notable events that impacted the speculative fiction genre.

Science Fiction history is something that I’ve picked away at little by little over the years, and I can trace my interests back to a book that I bought in the fall of 2002: Men of Tomorrow: Geeks, Gangsters, and the Birth of the Comic Book, by Gerard Jones, which expertly traces the history of the comic book industry from before its inception, all the way to the 1980s. Since then, I’ve picked up books over the years, various biographies of some of the greats, scholarly books on the history of the genre, light reading, and things that typically revolve around the inner workings of Science Fiction and Fantasy. To be able to start putting it together, a couple of times a month, is something that I’ve long wanted to do, but never really had the outlet to do so.

Studying the history of anything is important. The present day is a product of the past, and everything that has come before has left its fingerprints in everything that we do. To view anything in a vacuum is to strip it of meaning, and I hope that I’ll be able to put together a resource that will inform and enlighten.

The first post will be up May 3rd, focusing on Mary Shelley and Geneva. Stay tuned!

This past weekend, the Hugo award nominations were announced, with some great things on the ballot. The full list can be found here, and it’s well worth checking out some of the entries on there.

Novels: I’m annoyed that Soft Apocalypse, by Will McIntosh didn’t make the cut; it’s the best novel that I read last year, and it’s one of those books that blew me away twice. I’m also a little surprised that Charles Stross’s Rule 34 didn’t make an appearance, as well as Ready Player One, by Ernie Cline. (That’s not a bad thing, because RPO really isn’t a good book.) Of the ones on the list, I haven’t read Among Others, Deadlines or Dance with Dragons, but I’m betting that Embassytown will take the trophy. I do hope, however, that Leviathan Wakes will be the winner: that book drips with awesomeness. Edit: Another novel that was overlooked? Lev Grossman’s The Magician King. I’m stunned that that novel didn’t make the cut.

I can’t say much about the Novella and Novellette categories: I hope that Ken Liu takes Novella, and I hope that Charlie Jane Anders takes it for Novellette: the only stories that I’ve read on the list, but they’re both excellent.

Best Short story: I’m sad that none of Lightspeed’s stories made the cut, because there were some excellent ones there, but I’m rooting for Ken Liu’s The Paper Menagrie, which is an absolutely brilliant short story. If you haven’t read it, you really should do yourself a favor. John Scalzi’s April Fool’s Joke, Shadow War of the Night Dragons: Book One: The Dead City: Prologue is a hilarious nomination, because it’s technically a fun bit of writing. I liked Liu’s story much better though.

Motion pictures: I wish that people would stop nominating Doctor Who every year for short form: there’s quite a bit more when it comes to science fiction television. The pilot for Outcasts would have done nicely, as would several episodes of Fringe. I desperately want to see the episode of Community win, because that was one fantastic episode. Long form, I’ve no doubts that the entire run of Game of Thrones will win that one, although I would like to see Source Code win.

And, most exciting, Lightspeed Magazine picked up two nominations: Best Semiprozine and Best Editor, Short Form – John Joseph Adams. I’ve known about this for a couple of weeks, and while I’m not surprised, I think it’s fantastic that the outfit has been recognized for the fantastic stories that it’s put out. Being part of the Lightspeed team for just about all of 2011, it’s also great to contribute to such an outlet.

I also write for SF Signal, mainly with book reviews, but also some columns, Mind Melds and Podcasts, and I was beyond excited to see the site nominated for the first time for Best Fanzine, and Best Fancast (SF Signal Podcast). Likewise, it’s fantastic to have contributed a small part to such a fantastic site.

A key point of Nagl’s book is that a nation’s own military history helps to inform the ways in which said nation will go to war and use its military. The United States has a different makeup of conflict DNA than Canada, the United Kingdom and Japan and accordingly, we have a different perception of not only the ways in which the military should operate, but also philosophically; how and why wars or battles should be fought. In the science fiction world, the stories are reactionary, typically looking at lessons learned from a past conflict, such as colonial battles (War of the Worlds), World War II / Korea (Starship Troopers), Vietnam (The Forever War), Iraq / Afghanistan (Control Point / Germline). Military science fiction has a passionate following, but I often wonder if at points, if some variety should be added to the mix. We know how we like to do things, but what about how others go about doing the same thing?

Predominantly, military science fiction is an American-centric genre: Most of the really big names in military science fiction, such as Joe Halderman (The Forever War), John Ringo (A Hymn Before Battle), David Drake (Hammer’s Slammers) and David Weber (the Honor Harrington series) all served in the United States military, (as well as some of the newer authors, such as Myke Cole and D.B. Grady) whom have drawn upon their experiences and knowledge accordingly for their stories. Other authors who work in the genre, such as John Scalzi (Old Man’s War), David J. Williams (Autumn Rain trilogy) and Orson Scott Card (Ender’s Game), also hail from the United States and are likewise influenced by their home country. Indeed, the landmark entries in the genre from the US are remarkably consistent when it comes to the doctrine and style of warfare that the US has traditionally engaged in: overwhelming force for a clear, decisive objective.

You can read the full article here.

Harold 'Doc' Martin, with classmates. Picture from Randall Miller.

Norwich University is holding a Pride week, which has been met with mixed responses from alumni and current students alike. As a two time graduate of the school, I’m happy to see that Norwich is continuing its tradition of progressive reforms that keep it at the forefront of military education. With the repeal of the Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy, everyone is permitted to serve the military, and events like this help to break down some of the barriers and promote understanding. Knowledge and advancement cannot occur without open dialogue, and a willingness to see another point of view, even if it’s not a position that one understands or supports.

I would like to think that there’s a component of those in opposition to this that aren’t as caracatured by the media and much of the left spectrum of politics: my friends who didn’t (and I would assume don’t – I haven’t talked with a lot of them lately about this) support same-sex marriage initatives weren’t throthing at the mouth in hatred, nor do I think that hey wish any ill-will upon them: they just want things as defined within their own comfort level. That’s fine: I don’t believe that everyone should blindly support such changes, and that questioning it is a positive thing in the long run. What I don’t agree with is the notion that things will never change or that they should never change; that as they are now is the way that things always will be, ad infinitum. It should be noted that there’s also a difference in opinion over a pride week and some of the specific events that are being held. One of the lightning rods for the controversy was an event called the Condom Olympics, something to do with safe-sex practices. It’s not a particularly tactful title for an event (and apparently hosted by an outside group), and I’m a little puzzled about it: why not just call it what it is? Safe-sex education?

This isn’t the first time that popularly held concept has been challenged by the school, overturning tradition with a radical change in education. In 1916, Harold ‘Doc’ Martin was admitted to the University on the recommendation of a Boston-based scholarship committee. He would do well at NOriwch, graduating four years later with a degree in Electrical Engineering, becoming the first African American student in Norwich’s history. This came a full thirty years before President Truman worked with military leaders to officially desegregate the U.S. military.

In 1974, Norwich once again made history when the first class of women were admitted to the University, two years ahead of the service academies. The school had admitted women two years earlier to the Vermont College Campus down the road in Montpelier, but the intigration with the school’s Corps of Cadets was a first in the nation, which ultimately would lead the way for other schools, such as West Point, to follow suit.

Neither decision came without controversy. While recently researching the 2nd World War, I came across letters written to school officials decrying the admission of women to the school. Undoubtably, there are others for Cadet Martin, who would go on to work with the Tuskegee Airmen.

Norwich’s founder, Alden Patridge, established the school to provide a liberal education, revolutionizing the American education system as he did so, and setting the role for the Citizen Soldier model that persists to this day. The country is not homogeneous in its composition, and I believe that everybody should have the ability to serve and recieve the tools that they need to serve and lead our armed forces. The Pride Week is one method amongst many that helps to reinforce community and understanding.

I’m saddened by some of the messages that I’ve recieved over the last couple of days: it shows that the message hasn’t reached everyone, and that there’s more work to be done. But, considering that I see a large mix of women and representatives of various races walking around Norwich’s Vermont campus whenever I go up there, it’s clear that the message will eventually take hold. I for one, am happy that my alma mater has taken this direction: I believe that it will only further strengthen Norwich as we step into the future.

Tomorrow, John Joseph Adam’s latest original anthology, Armored, hits stores. I’m pretty excited for this one, because I’ve read most of it already. Last year, the book was announced, and I got to help out a bit with some of the behind the scenes work in getting the book up and running: slush reading, some recommendations, and thoughts that I had about the stories that I read.

This anthology really blew me away. There’s a stunning cast of authors present here, each of them with some really great stories about characters in powered armor – or the powered armor itself. What I really liked above all else is that there’s a real mix of unconventional takes on the power armor idea, and this anthology might surprise readers a bit: it’s not all pure action (although there’s plenty of that), and there’s more than just straight up military sci fi here: there’s a couple of genres mixed in here.

You can buy Armored here, take a look at some of the behind the scenes stuff over on John’s website, and like the page over on Facebook. If you like power armor and some great military SF, this is the anthology to buy.

I’ve sold a new article to the Norwich Record, titled Out of the Ashes: How an Irish Episcopal Priest Saved Norwich University. This was one of the projects that I was working on last fall, and shortly after the start of the New Year, I submitted my final draft. The research phase was interesting: going through archives and piecing together a rather interesting and diverse man that was a central, but forgotten figure in Norwich University and local Vermont history.

When assigned to this project, I was a little skeptical: what exactly were the links between the Episcopal Church and how would something like this be relevant to today’s reader and Norwich alum? After reading up on Bourns, it became clear that there are some interesting things that he has to teach us today.

Out of the Ashes: How an Irish Episcopal Priest Saved Norwich University

The year 1866 was a pivotal one for Norwich. In March, a fire destroyed the school’s primary building—the Old South Barracks—and the University’s future lay in jeopardy. The disaster represented the biggest challenge to date in Reverend Edward Bourns’ tenure as president, a career that had shepherded the young school through fifteen years of adversity, including hostilities from the citizens of Norwich and Hanover, crippling debt, and four years of civil war. Yet, under the immensely popular Irishman’s steadfast guidance and vision, the University would not only survive, but thrive.

NO ORDINARY MAN

Reverend Edward Bourns was well-equipped to run a college. A learned man, he not only held the office of president, but served on the faculty, teaching ancient languages and moral sciences. An ordained Episcopal priest, he held religious services on Sundays.

The reverend’s lack of military training in no way hindered his leadership abilities. Described by Adelbert Dewey as “a man of peace by profession, better versed in canon law than cannon balls,” he had nevertheless acquired “the swinging stride of the modern soldier.” An insatiable reader renowned for his “incisive and delicate wit,” it became a saying among the cadets “that no one could enter the doctor’s rooms on the briefest of errands and not depart wiser than he came.” An imposing presence at six foot two, Rev. Bourns was respected by all, and perfectly suited—both as a shrewd administrator and genial leader—to steer Norwich safely through perilous times.

Born October 29, 1801, in Dublin, Ireland, Bourns entered Trinity College in 1823, but put his education on hold to serve as a private tutor, completing his degree a decade later. Ellis’ History of Norwich University describes him as “a man of learning and acumen,” and at Dublin he won numerous book prizes for scholastic achievement.

From Dublin he moved to London, where he engaged his skills as a writer and reviewer, working alternately in the publishing industry and as a teacher. In 1837, he journeyed across the Atlantic to the United States, where he became acquainted with a fellow Irishman, the Reverend William DeLaney, Provost of Pennsylvania University. Shortly after, Bourns followed Reverend DeLaney (now the Bishop of Western New York) to Geneva, where he enrolled at Hobart College, earning his MA and becoming an adjunct classics professor. By 1841, having received his LLD from Hobart, he was ordained Deacon of Geneva’s Trinity College. Four years later, after a short stint as a fully ordained priest, Dr. Bourns resigned his professorship at Hobart and left for Brooklyn, N.Y., where he taught ancient languages for five years.

You can read the full article here.