They're both very good stories, too. Here's how the author, Paul Cornell, describes them:
They're the stories of Major Jonathan Hamilton, who serves with the 4th Dragoon Regiment of the British army in a present day rather unlike our own. Because of a single difference in the timeline (that I haven't yet revealed), the empires of Europe remain in place, and have indeed spread out to compete in the colonisation of the solar system, and the Great Game espionage cold war between them continues on many fronts. Indeed, the concept of a great balance to be kept has seeped into the fabric of these civilisations in all sorts of ways. Hamilton is often called upon to work out of uniform, as what we'd these days call an intelligence officer, intervening in the plans of rival empires. Hamilton himself is damaged, vulnerable, but also terse, repressed and honourable, though his concept of honour is shaped by his society. He can be horribly dangerous to those who get in the way of his duty, but he feels a need to be tender with innocents. He's not cruel in everyday life, but he can be something of a sadist when his mission and the nature of his enemy gives him leave to be. Indeed, he lets himself enjoy those moments of release. His relationships with women are complicated and rare. I like to think I'm writing in the tradition of Ian Fleming's Bond novels (not the movies) but I'm trying to stay away from pastiche, and instead hope to explore the same debates about masculinity and Britishness he did, while perhaps coming to different conclusions. I also hope this is serious SF in all sorts of ways, and that the politics and tactics make them genuine espionage stories too, but that they're also, well, fun!
I agree, they're certainly fun. Cornell compares these stories to Ian Fleming's James Bond novels (I've only read one, but frankly, I hated it), but they remind me of the Lord Darcy stories of Randall Garrett, written back in the 1960's and 1970's. Both are set in an alternate universe, where Great Britain is a world power, still under the control of the nobility. But in the Lord Darcy tales, magic exists and is as effective as science in our world. Cornell's stories are science fiction, rather than fantasy, but the difference is more in... packaging rather than anything more substantive.
The stories are filled with exotic, fantastic, even weird images that would be well-suited to fantasy. (A girl holding her uncle's severed head asks him, "Do you want to eat it, Uncle?" Yes, she asks that same uncle, who's also sitting in a chair beside her. Luckily, "his chef was used to the situation, and would prepare the brain as a soup.") These things aren't meant to be plausible, because it's an alternate universe. But it's not magic, either. The above event isn't explained, except for a reference to "prion transmitters," but it's clearly meant to be technological.
These stories are darker than the Lord Darcy tales, though. It's the Cold War all over again. It's the Great Game that Kipling used to write about (Kim is one of my all-time favorite books and also set in a very exotic world, at least from my point of view). Jonathan Hamilton is a guy who does terrible things, soul-destroying things, because the alternative - all-out war - is even worse. The balance between the Great Powers must be maintained, or millions will die.
Whether or not you think that reasoning is valid, it's a serious issue. It's a moral issue for Hamilton and the people who give him his orders, but also for us readers. These are not just spy stories in an exotic - very exotic - setting. Hamilton is a good guy who's done, who continues to do, some terrible things. Is that right? He doesn't seem to be sure of that himself
In "Catherine Drewe," the Russians are somewhere they're not supposed to be, and it's up to Hamilton to stop it - without starting a world war. OK, the exotic setting and the action/adventure details are neat, and lots of fun to read, but the real meat of the story is about the morality of a government agent who does terrible things for good reasons (as he sees it). These things bother him. They're really soul-destroying - or at least soul-scarring. Hamilton doesn't show the patchwork pattern of physical scars like his superior (a nice touch, that!), but I got the feeling that this was what his soul looked like.
Clearly, he does terrible things sometimes, but the alternative is even worse. After all, a world war would kill millions. Just like during the Cold War, nearly anything could be justified to prevent that, don't you think? But then, of course, you've got an excuse to do anything. That's not good, either. This is not an easy question, not at all. The whole thing is morally gray. Frankly, I really enjoy science fiction that looks into big questions like this (without providing an easy answer, because there just isn't an easy answer).
In "One of Our Bastards Is Missing," the conflict is more between Hamilton's sense of duty and his feeling of love. With Hamilton, the issue is never in doubt, but we know it's still difficult. Meanwhile, he must do his job. And when a man vanishes into thin air at the princess's wedding - in full view of a room full of people - he must solve the mystery, and quickly, too.
I read this story first, and I loved it. It was this story that reminded me the most of Randall Garrett's Lord Darcy. But when I read "Catherine Drewe," I got more of the morally gray situation only hinted at in the other story. Together, they're superb. I'm really looking forward to more Jonathan Hamilton stories.
But I must admit I'm wary of Cornell's statement that Hamilton "can be something of a sadist when his mission and the nature of his enemy gives him leave to be. Indeed, he lets himself enjoy those moments of release." If Hamilton is forced to be sadistic, with a corresponding scar on his soul from the deed, that's one thing. But I don't think I could stand for a hero with a taste for it. In Ian Fleming's Casino Royale, the only James Bond book I've ever read, I thought his hero came across as mentally disturbed (definitely not the fun kind of secret agent that the movies showed). So I hope that Cornell reconsiders and doesn't take the "tradition" too far.
Just as a pointless aside, my wife starting reading "One of Our Bastards is Missing" because she saw it lying around and the title made her chuckle. She read about half of it and all she said was, "that story doesn't make any sense."
ReplyDeleteIt really doesn't make any sense. It feels like a chapter out of a full novel, with none of the character relations properly explained.
ReplyDeleteI think I liked that about it, Anonymous. It felt like... well, not like a real world, of course, but as if there was a whole world out there, and that we were only seeing a small part of it.
DeleteI know what you mean, and I always dislike short fiction that reads like an excerpt from a story, rather than a complete story in itself. But I never got that feeling here.
Of course, it's been more than four years since I posted this, so my memory of the details is a bit hazy. :) Anyway, thanks for the comment!