Pink Noise | |||||
Leonid Korogodski | |||||
Silverberry Press, 191 pages | |||||
A review by Seamus Sweeney
While I am as susceptible to talk of the blurring of genres as the next man, it has always struck me that
there is a fundamental distinction between the lit and sci-fi worlds; one values the quality of expression
as much (if not more so) than the ideas, the other values the ideas more so (much more so) than the quality
of expression. A loose distinction, and there are plenty of counter examples on both sides, but a valid one I feel.
Pink Noise is one of the most thought-provoking and enjoyable books I've read in a while. And I'm
not all that sure that I understood much, if any, of it. And I'm pretty sure that, with its great dollops
of explication (and fifty pages of notes and essays after the story itself) it is squarely on the sci-fi
rather than lit side of the above mentioned artificial (but not totally arbitrary) divide. Nevertheless,
it is a long time since I have read something so arresting and haunting.
The post-human future, depending on your point of view, will either be a glorious time of unlimited health
and creativity, or a dystopian dehumanised nightmare, or won't happen at all because that's the way
life is. Perhaps the post-human movement, if I can call it that, is best defined as a series of attempts
to go beyond the human condition. From Aubrey De Grey to Nick Bostrom to Ray Kurzweil, post-humanists
refuse to accept the barriers to human life that most of us don't even question.
Post-humanism may be best understood as a subgenre of sci-fi, although maybe that would annoy the
post-humanists. Or maybe not -- one of Nick Bostrom's key papers is a (to my mind ridiculously twee
and simplistic) parable in which a population stoically accepts the deaths of thousands annually at
the hands of an evil dragon, and indeed develop an entire system of delivering those condemned to
the dragon, until a little boy pipes up that he doesn't want his granddad (supposed to embark on
the train to the dragon's lair) to die, and suddenly everyone realises that Death is a Bad Thing,
and you understand that our health system is like the system they use to deliver people to be killed
by the dragon, and we should be trying to defeat the dragon, i.e. conquer ageing. Or something like that.
Such simplicities are a world away from Leonid Korogodski's short book, which combines the force
of a parable with a sense of what Wordsworth called "something more deeply interfused," that
strange, almost mystical effect of the whole being far more than the sum of its parts. It's the
sense that we get in The Great Gatsby and Heart of Darkness, like Pink Noise brief
works in which a mocking critic could find much to sneer at, but filled with glimpses of worlds
beyond the world of the story.
Nathi, who, five hundred years before the story begins, uploaded his mind and became a post-human,
is one of the most talented brain doctors of his time. Working to save a comatose girl, he maps his
mind onto her brain, only to discover that she is the carrier of a Wish Fairy. The Wish Fairy's role
is to kill the Wish, a virus implanted by the ruling Wizard Orders into all post-human
brains -- including Nathi's -- to enslave them, trapping them in an illusory world in which ultraviolence
is disguised as gaming. Nathi's liberation from the Wizard Orders is only the beginning of the
adventure. It's a fast paced tale, full of ideas and imagery. And action, both on Mars and in.
There are nearly fifty pages of notes -- a glossary, three different chapters on the ideas that
underlie the book -- Ilya Prigogine's work on complexity, Gerard Edelman and Rodolfo Llinás' work on
neuroscience and evolution, and Hannes Alfvén's plasma cosmology. These chapters are wittily and accessibly
written, and certainly the ideas explored are stimulating -- Prigogine in particular has been added to
my list of thinkers to explore more. The book is extensively illustrated with haunting pictures by the
artist guddah (www.guddah.com), which are specific enough to relate to the action, but not so defined
that they rob the imagination of its prerogative of visualising as it pleases. It is one of the most
beautiful books I have ever held and reviewed (the only slight quibble being that the pink bookmark
ribbon frayed very quickly, and I had to cut it off)
Korogodski marries the heavy science and the exciting action with the primal motifs of defenceless
children, of mothers, of patrimony -- the echoes of Nathi's Zulu ancestry, of identity, of loss,
of belonging. These themes lend the story its power. It is an intoxicating story, one that demands
to be read quickly, and one that draws you back into its world as soon as you have finished.
Seamus Sweeney is a freelance writer and medical graduate from Ireland. He has written stories and other pieces for the website Nthposition.com and other publications. He is the winner of the 2010 Molly Keane Prize. He has also written academic articles as Seamus Mac Suibhne. |
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