I have a large collection of science-fiction books from the ’50s, ‘60s, and ’70s of the previous century, but it tapers off after that—not sure why. Occasional forays into ‘Best Of’ collections left me cold: younger writers seemed to write obsessively about trendy, computer-lingo topics, where the stories got lost in dense verbiage and remained unmemorable. So I haven’t been reading much ‘contemporary’ science-fiction, preferring to revisit some old favorites, especially the always amazing Jack Vance (the only SF writer I have collected).
I was intrigued, though, by the web page of a prolific authoress named Sarah A. Hoyt. She is a member of Glen Reynolds’s Instapundit team, recommending articles of interest (especially to conservatives), and she also has her own blog, According to Hoyt. There we learn that she is “a novelist with (I think) twenty three novels out.” They run a gamut from Science-Fiction to Fantasy (her caps), including ‘Historical Fantasy’, ‘Historical Mysteries’, and others (see her Book Page). Her SF she defines as ‘Space Opera’, a term that stems from the swashbuckling pulp-magazines of the 1930s. So what is twenty-first century Space Opera like?
I decided to find out, buying a copy of the first in her ‘Darkship Series’, called Darkship Thieves (2010), and taking it on vacation in Virginia. It was a longer read than I expected, but an entertaining romp. Right off it’s non-stop action: the heroine, a willful, adventurous daughter of a prominent ruler, named Athena, awakens in her father’s space cruiser: “Before full consciousness, I knew there was an intruder in my cabin. . .” Athena dodges attackers and escapes into the ‘Trees’, an orbiting biological matrix, invented a century ago by superhuman but sterile ‘Mules’, products of eugenic bio-engineering, who for a time ruled the Earth. She ends up in a Darkship, dedicated to stealing power pods from the Trees.
Turns out these Mules and their cadre of bio-modified assistants had fled the Earth after normal humans rebelled, and established a secret colony in the Asteroid Belt, called Eden. This intriguing future history is revealed slowly, and becomes quite complex as the story progresses (elevating the novel to more than ‘space opera’, I must say). Early on we learn that Athena has some extraordinary powers of her own, especially an athletic ability to move faster than normal people (and kick males in the crotch), and (it eventuates) to communicate telepathically.
The airlock was dry and on the other side was a hallway with only a little water on the floor . . . there was a detachment of goons facing me.I burned in a scything motion, aiming for their necks, because their bodies might be armored and heads exploding is only interesting as a figure of speech. They all went down.Kit, I’m here. Where are you? What level?For a moment, there was no answer and I thought they’d moved him, I thought—This level, he said, having got the image of where I was from my mind. From his memory he sent me the image of which corridor to take, how to get to his cell, how to get him out.Be careful, love, I’m guarded.Oh, I wouldn’t expect anything else. . .
Italics. That’s the traditional sci-fi device for indicating telepathy, conversation between minds. I enjoyed Darkship Thieves, but I came away with the nagging thought that the telepathy was almost cheating. Well, not really cheating, but a device, like a deus ex machina, a fortuitous coincidence that enables an author to dodge the requirements of plot causality and, well, drop a meteor on a pursuing space ship, or just find out a door wasn’t locked at all. I’ve no doubt that Sarah Hoyt could have had Athena rescue Kim without communicating telepathically, but since they could, well—why not?