An excellent literary science fiction novel, fully deserving of its status as a cult classic. And a genuinely touching paean to the power of the the written word.
My definition of "literary science fiction" are works that are more interested in emotional truth than in the trivial practical details of science, technology, etc. Novels that are more interested in the metaphor of their central narrative conceit than in any minor little thing like "making sense."
And, for me, that's ok, if the central conceit is powerful enough, and the writing is good enough -- and I would say that, in Mockingbird, the conceit is frighteningly powerful, and very funny (in a bleak sort of way). The writing is a little stilted, for my taste, as Tevis moves his human characters from the idiocy imposed by the crazy system they live in, to a kind of intelligence and enlightenment: the most relatable voices are the most natural, and unforced -- the robot Spofforth, and the prisoner Belasco, for example -- the voices where Tevis isn't trying to "say something" ("Look at me! How clever am I, writing in the voice of an innocent idiot?!!")
And there's a lot to love here: my copy is bristling with post-it notes, where I've marked lines that horrify, or made me laugh out loud. (Tevis, who was a professor at Ohio University, was clearly having some not-so-innocent fun at the expense of his academic colleagues, students, popular media, other writers .. oh, it's the gift that keeps on giving!)
"'Reading is too intimate,' Spofforth said. 'It will put you too close to the feelings and ideas of others. It will disturb and confuse you.'"
Tevis imagines a world about 400+ years in the future, where the programming of AIs intended to preserve and protect humanity has resulted in the catastrophic dumbing down of the survivors, the end of natural human reproduction, and the collapse of infrastructure and basic tools. (The only things dumber than most of the surviving humans are the low-level robots, who are casually referred to as "morons.") Only a few robots like Spofforth --a "Make Nine," the highest level created-- were programmed with any agency, foresight, and real intelligence, but also with a fatal flaw: all they really want to do is die. And most of the few created have been frighteningly successful at that: Spofforth (who was the unlucky recipient of a last-minute patch that doesn't allow him to kill himself) is the only Make Nine that survives.
Into this dying world comes a man who has rediscovered reading. And a young woman who has discovered that she doesn't have to follow the robots' rules ...
It doesn't make a lot of sense, but for anyone who seriously fears for the intelligence of the species, it's a powerful little metaphor. To be fair to Tevis, his hints at some of the history of the 400-odd years intervening between its publication and the events in the novel make the desperate conditions have come to pass almost plausible-- it isn't entirely a literary fantasy.
So I would recommend this, very highly -- if you like Literary SF. And you despair for the human race. And if you would like to believe that Reading might be the salvation of us all ...
My definition of "literary science fiction" are works that are more interested in emotional truth than in the trivial practical details of science, technology, etc. Novels that are more interested in the metaphor of their central narrative conceit than in any minor little thing like "making sense."
And, for me, that's ok, if the central conceit is powerful enough, and the writing is good enough -- and I would say that, in Mockingbird, the conceit is frighteningly powerful, and very funny (in a bleak sort of way). The writing is a little stilted, for my taste, as Tevis moves his human characters from the idiocy imposed by the crazy system they live in, to a kind of intelligence and enlightenment: the most relatable voices are the most natural, and unforced -- the robot Spofforth, and the prisoner Belasco, for example -- the voices where Tevis isn't trying to "say something" ("Look at me! How clever am I, writing in the voice of an innocent idiot?!!")
And there's a lot to love here: my copy is bristling with post-it notes, where I've marked lines that horrify, or made me laugh out loud. (Tevis, who was a professor at Ohio University, was clearly having some not-so-innocent fun at the expense of his academic colleagues, students, popular media, other writers .. oh, it's the gift that keeps on giving!)
"'Reading is too intimate,' Spofforth said. 'It will put you too close to the feelings and ideas of others. It will disturb and confuse you.'"
Tevis imagines a world about 400+ years in the future, where the programming of AIs intended to preserve and protect humanity has resulted in the catastrophic dumbing down of the survivors, the end of natural human reproduction, and the collapse of infrastructure and basic tools. (The only things dumber than most of the surviving humans are the low-level robots, who are casually referred to as "morons.") Only a few robots like Spofforth --a "Make Nine," the highest level created-- were programmed with any agency, foresight, and real intelligence, but also with a fatal flaw: all they really want to do is die. And most of the few created have been frighteningly successful at that: Spofforth (who was the unlucky recipient of a last-minute patch that doesn't allow him to kill himself) is the only Make Nine that survives.
Into this dying world comes a man who has rediscovered reading. And a young woman who has discovered that she doesn't have to follow the robots' rules ...
It doesn't make a lot of sense, but for anyone who seriously fears for the intelligence of the species, it's a powerful little metaphor. To be fair to Tevis, his hints at some of the history of the 400-odd years intervening between its publication and the events in the novel make the desperate conditions have come to pass almost plausible-- it isn't entirely a literary fantasy.
So I would recommend this, very highly -- if you like Literary SF. And you despair for the human race. And if you would like to believe that Reading might be the salvation of us all ...
