Triffids Beard 2 - The Bearded Triffid

Bouncy
Phoenixine One-Hundred and One, January 1998
Another trip to Wellington. We filed slowly on to the aeroplane. Ahead of me a sports team who
appeared to posses only one brain cell which they passed around amongst themselves all tried to get on
board simultaneously and blocked the door. "Awwww, mate," exclaimed the current possessor of the
brain cell. Eventually the blockage sorted itself out and we seated ourselves. The sports team were all at
the back. "Awwww, mate!"
With The Brentford Chainstore Massacre Robert Rankin returns to his old stamping grounds and
his old heroes. Pooley and Omally learn that because of a special papal dispensation, the calendar in
Brentford differs from that in the rest of the world. It would seem that Brentford can celebrate the
millennium two years early (and avoid the rush). All that Pooley and Omally must do is find the papal
document which has unaccountably disappeared. They enlist the aid of Professor Slocombe. Meanwhile
Dr Stephen Malone, using DNA extracted from bloodstains on the Turin Shroud and from fragments of
the true cross has cloned several Jesus Christs (one for every religion). Are these plot threads
connected? Yes and no.
Unusually for Rankin, the book contains no Brussels sprouts and no Morris Minors. On the other hand, it
has no chainstores and no massacres either which probably makes up for it.
In contrast, Larry McMurtry's new novel Commanche Moon has lots of commanches, most of them
trying to kill Augustus McCrae and Woodrow Call. This novel is the last of the Lonesome Dove
sequence and covers McCrae and Call's years as Texas rangers. They are bold and bloody years, hard
years, hilarious years, tragic years. This is an emotional roller coaster of a book, screamingly funny and
gruesomely sad.
We didn't take off until nearly 5:15pm; such an enormous delay that it was obvious there were serious
problems somewhere down the line. Consequently it came as no surprise when, about half way to
Wellington, the captain came on the loudspeaker.
"Conditions in Wellington are marginal," he said. "The wind speed is very high and gusting and we may
not be able to land. If necessary, we will divert to Christchurch."
We dropped lower and lower through impenetrable cloud and the plane rocked in the gusts of wind like a
fairground ride gone haywire. Eventually after an interminable time the cloud broke up into wisps and
then vanished and below us a hungry sea boiled. "Come here," the waves called. "We want you now!"
There was a whine and a thump as the landing gear deployed. Immediately we took on all the
aerodynamic characteristics of a brick and the turbulence doubled and redoubled in spades. The plane
rocked and rolled and dropped hundreds of feet in an instant. "Awwww, mate!!" came an agonised
groan from the back as the current possessor of the brain cell left his tummy on the ceiling.
The Sparrow is Mary Doria Russell's first novel and I am awe-struck by its sheer magnificence. The plot
ingredients are common coin -- a radio signal has been detected from Alpha Centauri and a spaceship is
despatched to investigate them. Even the sub-text is not original -- the spaceship is funded and crewed
by the Jesuits and much of the novel is concerned with the crisis of faith that the discovery of alien life
implies (I was reminded irresistibly of James Blish's A Case of Conscience). But none of that matters,
because Mary Doria Russell has written a superb and thought-provoking novel around these stock
cupboard ingredients.
The human characters are engaging and interesting -- it is impossible not to feel sympathy for them,
especially as all but one of them will die before the book ends. (No spoilers here -- this point is clear from
the start since much of the story is told in flashback). The religious issues and religious people are
honestly and fairly presented, with no hint of caricature or over-simplification. Even the alien societies
and characters ring true (Russell is an anthropologist and is therefore on firm ground). This book