The Draco Tavern is a collection of short stories by Larry Niven, about the most versitile bar on Earth. You see, aliens land in Siberia around 2010-ish, and if there's anything a traveller getting to port needs, it's a stiff drink. Or a stiff jolt of electricity. Or a shot of thorium dust. Lots of different aliens come through, all with their own desires. Thus the Draco Tavern, with a score of airlocks and two score of restrooms.

Presiding at the bar, and narrarating all the tales, is Rick Shumann. Like most bartenders, he's got a couple of PhDs, a willingness to listen, and the knowledge to talk only when it seems necessary.

The stories are Niven's way of using aliens to provide an outside perspective on current events, political controversies, and philosophical questions. What is the purpose of life? Where's the dark matter? What constitues justice? Of course, it's not all heavy. I think there's a rule for members of the SFWA that if you use a SF bar as a setting, it must contain at least 15% shaggy dog stories. On that front, Niven doesn't disappoint.

These stories are quite typical Niven, with both the good and the bad. Aliens are creativly alien, with strange ecology and thought processes. But no variation is visible within any species other than humanity. Surely he's aware of the criticism, so he makes a joke of the two most common visitors being a hive mind, and a race where every adult member is physically identical.

In summary, if you like Niven, you'll like this book. If you're not familiar with Niven, give it a try.

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I've been wanting the movie Six-String Samurai since I was in college. I'd been told I was pretty much the target market.

Having watched it, I wish it wasn't such a ripoff of other movies. I mean, how many times have we seen this? Buddy Holly wielding a katana, travelling across the post-apocalypic wilderness of Nevada, going to Lost Vegas to replace the dead Elvis as King. Along the way, his steps are haunted by Death aka Slash from Guns N' Roses, who wants to be King, and also seeks to prove the dominance of heavy metal over guitar rock. As I said, it's not like this movie hasn't been done a million times.

This was an indie movie with a $2 million budget, and was quite competently made. The fight choreography was good, although I was offended that only Japanese styles got to shine; the only guy that did kung-fu was presented as a buffoon. The star was an experienced hand in Hong Kong action movies; this was supposed to be his breakout American role, but it didn't quite work out for him. Which is a pity, because he's quite good.

So: I recommend this for people that like humor and/or martial arts movies. Raul, Cheryl, and Tim, that means you. My mom should probably not bother.

Posted by: Boviate at 12:03 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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My Gunny is a bicycling nut, and his latest care package included the novel The Rider, by Tim Krabbé, a Dutchman. It was translated by Sam Garrett.

 Krabbé is an avid cyclist, and in the book he projects himself as a top-level amatuer in a race. The short novel (150 pages) is the story of a race, and his musings as it progresses. There are no chapters; the internal divisions are the distances travelled, e.g. "Kilometer 89-92". Also, there are flashbacks to earlier in his career and his childhood.

The writing style is brisk and to the point, perhaps a legacy of Krabbé's journalistic experience. It read a little bit like Hemingway to me, although it's always hard to say how much that was the translator's hand.

I'm not an endurance athelete, but I practiced painful sports, and it rang true. Racing is way of pushing the body, proving the strength of your will.

Krabbé also makes a number of comparisons to chess playing; a little research shows that he was a decent player, and a specialist in creating joke chess problems. Everyone else in the shop just rolled their eyes when I tried to explain why castling vertically was funny.

So, in summary: Der Renner by Tim Krabbé is a quick and worthwhile read.

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I just read Charles Sheffields's The Amazing Doctor Darwin. It's a collection of his short stories featuring Charles Darwin's grandfather, Erasmus Darwin.

I am now looking for a biography of this man, who fame has been overshadowed by his grandson. He was accounted as England's finest medical doctor, who advocated scientific medicine. He organized the translation of Carolus Linneus's taxonomy into English. He was a co-founder of the Lunar Society, a club of English gentlemen that would create the Industrial Revolution and play a leading role in science. (Members included Joseph Priestly, Josiah Wedgewood, and James Watt.)

Sheffield, a well-respected author of hard science fiction, uses Darwin as a Sherlock Holmes. He is called upon for medical problems of supernatural aspect, and discovers the truths behind them. All are solved with science that was just becoming known at the time: Joseph Priestly, for instance, was a member of the Lunar Society, so Doctor Darwin has reason to know of "dephlogistinated air" (carbon dioxide) and it's effects. That sort of thing.

Of course, no homage to Sherlock Holes is complete without a Watson, and so Sheffield attaches Colonel Poole as a neighbor and friend to Darwin. The real Darwin was friends with such a man, but Sheffield admits taking entirely unwarrented liberties with their association. Such are the demands of fiction.

In general, I liked these stories. I think Sheffield wanted to show a more believeable Sherlock Holmes. Darwin deduces much from a stranger upon first meeting, but his perceptions seem much more reasonable: he looks as a master diagnostician, and thus sees signs of consumtion, heart disease, childhood rickets, chronic malaria, that sort of thing. None of the "Red mud on your boots and purple wool gloves means you took the 4:14 Express which means you live in the town of Obscure, Anglia", which annoyed me about Holmes. Darwin is a genius in these stories, but a believable one.

Which is a good thing, as he was a genius in life.

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