Triffids Beard 2 - The Bearded Triffid

through. His books pull you up with short, sharp shocks as comedy turns into tragedy in the blink of an
eye. Normally he has this finely balanced, but in his new novel Kensington Heights the comedy is thin
and cruel and the tragedy outweighs it too much. Frank Savage has been discharged from the army. He
was shot in the head in Northern Ireland, his comrades on that fateful patrol were killed and for a long
time it seemed that he would die as well. Now he wants to be alone and the top flat of Kensington
Heights seems just the place to retreat from the world. But the world has a habit of breaking in on even
the most reclusive of people and Frank is not well equipped to deal with it. The novel is sad rather than
funny and I found it difficult to read because I can take no pleasure or enjoyment out of misery and pain.
This is the comedy of cruelty and I have never liked it. I felt like a voyeur at Bedlam two centuries ago
and my conscience hurt. To that extent this is a good book -- it is certainly moving, but it isn't funny.
Terry Bisson is also a great comic novelist -- he works in the SF tradition so he will probably never be as
popular as Leslie Thomas, but that makes him no less of an artist. In Pirates of the Universe we see
Gunther Glenn a twenty-first century space ranger. He hunts the Peteys, enigmatic "things" (for want of
a better word) that traverse the solar system and whose skins can be harvested and processed into a
substance more valuable than gold. With one more skin he should be rich enough to disappear forever
into the virtual reality heaven of the Pirates of the Universe theme park. But things go wrong and
Glen falls foul of the bureaucracy and his world disintegrates into a Kafka-esque nightmare. Bisson
writes fables, but the fables have depth.
Recently it rained and I made the less than thrilling discovery that I had a hole in my shoe. I discover this
about once a year, on average. The hole is always in my right shoe and is invariably a split right across
the centre of the sole. Why this should be I have no idea since I do not recall ever using my right foot
for anything I don't also use my left foot for (save only one -- see later); and yet every year my right
shoe breaks and my left shoe does not. Perhaps it has something to do with the muscular tensions (and
hence the pressure on the shoe) as I make constant minute adjustments to the throttle pedal in my car.
I have no other explanation.
I was away from home when this crisis overtook me and I only had the one pair of shoes. Fortunately I
came into possession of a women's magazine (don't ask) and so I ripped out several pages to line my
shoe and protect my sock from the ravages of water. So for half a day or so I wandered the town
walking on photographs of Princess Di, which afforded me much pleasure. Then I went into a shop and
confessed my shoe crisis and bought a new pair, instructing the shopkeeper to dispose of the originals,
together with Princess Di. This occasioned a few raised eyebrows, but my credit card was good and so
nothing was said. Now my feet are dry, but I have blisters.
If Scott Adams had omitted the last chapter of The Dilbert Future he would have had another brilliant
book to his credit. Doubtless it will still be a best seller, but it is flawed. That last chapter will come back
to haunt him, mark my words.
Adams uses his crystal ball to predict that the future will arise from three immutable truths. Namely that
humanity is stupid, selfish and horny. Apply these truths and the future is self evident. The cover of the
book has a picture of Nostradogbert on it (he acted as consultant) and therefore this must all be true.
In a series of wittily profound observations, Adams makes a good case for the future as an extension of
the present only more stupid. Scattered throughout are Dilbert cartoons that illuminate the theme. If you
don't laugh at this you have no humour; if you don't recognise its essential truth you have no brain.
But in the last chapter, Adams puts the humour away and writes a serious essay about here and now,
then and there. And in it, I'm sorry to say, he comes across as a gullible crank. Without the wit there is
no wisdom. I don't think he's been listening to himself properly.
Sharyn McCrumb
Larry Niven, Jerry
The Hangman's Beautiful Daughter Onyx
Pournelle and Steven
Barnes
The Legacy of Heorot Orbit
Larry Niven Destiny Road Tor