Consider Phlebas

I recall reading an article somewhere that gave a very derisive view of genre fiction - fantasy, science fiction, mystery, and so on. The article argued that, unlike “real” fiction, genre fiction could never have any sort of depth or complexity to it, never be able to show truth with the same clarity and richness that “real” fiction could.

This is, of course, patently untrue. Aside from the fact that the article's author obviously comes from an outdated school of thought regarding literary criticism (despite said author's self-importance regarding authority on the subject of the nature of literature and literariness), the truth of the matter is that, when it comes to thematic exploration, genre fiction can be just as rich and just as deep as “real” fiction (whatever that is - the very notion is laughable, since the terms “real” and “fiction” are on several levels of meaning completely antithetical). Authors of genre fiction have explored a wide variety of themes - as wide and as varied as any other author has. Of course, there is a lot of terrible genre writing out there (some of which receive more adulation than they deserve, at the expense of the good stuff), but whatever there is that is good, is very, very, very good.

It was with this in mind that I decided to embark upon a space opera reading course, starting with Consider Phlebas by Iain M. Banks, the first book in the Culture series. The premise for Consider Phlebas is seemingly simple on the surface: there is a war going on between the Culture and the Idirans, and the Culture has lost a Mind - a hyper-intelligent sentient AI - in a planet called Schar's World, which is guarded by an inscrutable and incredibly powerful race called the Dra'Arzon. Both the Culture and the Idirans want to get the Mind, and each sends their own agents to retrieve it: a Changer named Horza for the Idirans, and a female agent named Perostack Balveda for the Culture. One way or another, they must get to Schar's World, get past the Dra'Arzon to land on the surface, and from there dive deep into the underground labyrinth called the Command System, where the Mind has gone into hiding.

Banks sets this story in a most intriguing universe, beginning with the two cultures at war with each other when the novel begins. The Culture is made up of predominantly humanoid species, who rely upon sentient AIs to run almost everything for them, the logic being that machines are more efficient. The result of this extreme efficiency is that the members of the Culture want for absolutely nothing by way of material goods (thus eliminating even the need for money). The Culture subscribes to no faith, but accepts all; subscribes to no specific ideas, but accepts all. There are no restrictions as to what its members will do as long as they do so within a certain (rather loose, it appears) set of predetermined rules. For the average member of the Culture, life is pretty much a utopic existence - except for one thing: the need for purpose.

In order to give its members a sense of purpose, the Culture has an expansionist policy of contacting other civilizations, and from there interacting with them as they please - meddling, in a way, with the way they work. It is this policy of meddling, but not admitting they are meddling, that makes other civilizations leery of the Culture. Very few can manage to work up any outright hate, as the Culture (and the AIs that run it) are very, very careful not to make any missteps that could lead to potential dislike, and from there to potential war.

That is, of course, until they bump into the Idirans.

Fundamentally, the Idirans are almost the exact opposite of the Culture. For one, they aren't humanoid: they are much, much larger than most humanoid species, are tripedal, have oddly-shapped heads, and (crucially) are very, very long-lived, to the point that, for all intents and purposes, they are immortal. Many of the species on their side of the war are also largely non-humanoid. However, unlike the Culture, which is predominantly materialistic, the Idirans are faith-based. They have a religion, and it is dogmatic adherence to this religion that drives pretty much everything about them. They also look down upon other races that are not as long-lived as they are, believing that any species that lives so short a lifespan cannot possibly have an immortal soul. They are also very aggressive in their expansion policy, a result, so it is implied, of their violent evolutionary rise to dominant species on their home planet.

It is thus no surprise that, when the Culture and Idirans finally bump up against each other, things were uncomfortable, to say the least, and it was not long until it turned into full-scale war (which the Culture engaged in, rather reluctantly).

Many space operas often start in just such a setting: some intergalactic war is ongoing, and the main characters are fighting for one side or the other, trying to ensure victory for what they believe in. Oftentimes these characters have nemeses they must defeat in order to accomplish their goals. But what makes Consider Phlebas interesting is that Horza, who is the main character of the book, looks upon his nemesis (Balveda) with a certain kind of respect, liking Balveda for who she is but disliking what she represents. In fact, I get the feeling that, had they been on the same side, they would have made excellent partners. Throughout the novel Horza and Balveda (when she does have her moments) seem to think this way, but they are each too loyal to their beliefs for any of this to come to pass.

Another key character is Fal ‘Ngeestra, a Culture Referrer - essentially a human who can think like one of the Minds that run the Culture, and in fact can do so better than any of them. Unlike Horza, whose actions might be said are directly related to the main storyline of Consider Phlebas, Fal ‘Ngeestra's role does not seem immediately obvious. Some might even argue that she is an extraneous character, maybe even a waste of space. But it is only later on that her role in the whole story becomes clear, or is at least implied: it is her views on the situation that essentially guide Balveda's actions. Fal 'Ngeestra, doing what a Mind can, and better, has essentially been able to predict what Horza will do and where he will wind up, and so through the Culture's complicated system this information is passed to Balveda, who acts accordingly. How this is done is not explained: the story follows Horza, not Balveda, so the reader never really does find out how Fal 'Ngeestra's information finally trickles down to Balveda. But whatever the case, Fal 'Ngeestra's thoughts and perceptions essentially guide Balveda's making sure the Culture agent is in the right place at the right time.

While there are many humanoid, organic characters who are interesting in their own way - the Idirans Xoralunda and Xoxarle, for instance, or the space pirates Horza joins up with in the first one-third of the novel - it is the machines that prove to be far more intriguing. The Mind Horza and Balveda both try to capture, for instance, has a personality all its own, and hte reader does feel a certain sympathy for it, trying to survive in the depths of the Command System, while at the same time trying to evade the Idirans that want to capture it. And then there is Fal 'Ngeestra's drone, Jase, or the drone Umaha-Closp, who both have personalities and the ability to feel emotion, despite being, technically, machines.. The word “human” has such a fluid definition (I find that some of the most sympathetic characters are actually AIs), and this uncertainty of definition is something that not only makes for interesting characters, but raises some interesting questions as well.

What I found most enjoyable about this novel, though, is how it looks at war, or rather, the reasons for fighting it. The reasons, whatever they may be, are always grounded in something ambiguous and uncerain: ideas and ideals. There is no clear right or wrong in this novel, no one specific side which is absolutely in the right. It's not like Star Wars, with the Sith so clearly evil, and the Jedi so clearly good. I suppose I approve of this because it is precisely how I tend to view wars, but I think it does say something valuable about the reasons behind wars, and provides a good reason for not romanticizing the concept overmuch. Maybe if wars are viewed as plain violence done to another group of people for reasons that are far more ambiguous than we think, then maybe more people might think twice before starting one.

For all that I really like this story, though, I did find the plot a little too rambling for my taste. I understand if Borza does not take the direct route to Schar's World - this is patently impossible, given the events in the first one-third of the book - but I would have appreciated a few less adventures elsewhere and more on Schar's World itself. That interlude with the crazy cannibal tribe was interesting, and insightful somewhat, but not really necessary. If I wanted any insight into the religious practices of a particular group of people, I would have appreciated some insight into the Idirans instead of this random group of humanoids. Some more insight and interaction with the Mind would have been nice as well, in order to understand what happens to it while it is in hiding.

Also, some more information on the Idirans would have been great. The descriptions of them are pretty limited, and I had to resort to finding an image online just to get a good grasp of what they look like (I initially imagined them as three-legged horses with arms, but I think this image from DeviantArt is somewhat better). Some more insight into their practices and how their religion fits into their philosophy would definitely be enlightening. There are notes on this towards the end of the novel, but I think I would have liked it more of those concepts had been woven into the story itself.

Overall, Consider Phlebas is a good start to what promises to be an intriguing series. As an introduction to space opera, I think I may have dived a little too soon into the deep end of the pool, as it were, but the learning curve is not the steep, and it is easy to simply sink into the world and enjoy it - which, really, is what good space opera is all about, and this is, most assuredly, very good space opera.