Yay for Jacquez

There are two particular recommendations that made to me years ago when I asked for some good sci-fi authors whose work I would not have read, which have been most pleasing to me. And both author’s last names begin with “Bu” =)

Bujold, Lois McMaster and Butler, Octavia in particular.

was attempting to dispose of some of his collection of scifi last weekend while I was in berkeley. And I picked up “A Civil Campaign” by Bujold. The first few books of hers I read, I dismissed as fluff, engaging fluff, but still fluff. Probably because the thematic element common to most of the books that really get me going are dynamic characters set in a dynamic universe, where the world changes the person and the person changes the world. In Dave Duncan’s work, and George R R Martin’s work, the very structure of societies goes through turmoil and upheaval, and is inevitably shaped by the characters. I don’t know that

Bujold’s worlds seem more static to me somehow. But between some amazing dialogue and brilliant characterizations (eat your heart out, Asimov) they do get me thinking about how the world is. And how I fit into it. So, I share with you a brief thought of a character in a car, explaining her recent college experiences to her family. The part that really struck home is emphasized:

Kareen and Mark had come close to having their first real argument over this dubious choice of his, but it was, Kareen recognized, indeed his choice. Body-control issues lay near the core of his deepest troubles; she was developing an instinct–if she didn’t flatter herself, close to a real understanding–of when she could push for his good. and when she just had to wait, and let Mark wrestle with Mrak. It had been a shomewhat terrifying privilege to watch and listen, this past year, as his therapist coached him; and an exhilarating experence to participate, under the therapist’s supervision, in the partial healing he was achieving. And to learn there were more important aspects to love than a mad rush for connection: confidentiality, for one. Patience for another. And, paradoxically and most urgently in Mark’s case, a certain cool and distant autonomy. It had taken her months to figure that one out. She wasn’t about to try to explain it to her noisy, teasing, loving family the back of a groundcar.