There are a few novels on my to-read list that, although having received general acclaim, for some reason or another I am reluctant to pick up. I admit more often than not these reasons are all but reasonable: I do not like the cover, or I’ve read a review somewhere that I did not like. I often have this when I suspect that the critical reception of the novel was determined by hype, or publishing and commercial demands. The more a work is lauded in the popular press, the greater my skepticism seems to be. Yes, this is an extremely irrational character trait, and no, I make no apologies for it and I know it is completely wrong.
One would expect that, when I finally do read one of these works, I would either find my preconceptions validated, or have to agree with the general evaluation of the work. Unfortunately that would be too simple, as my reaction to the works of Orson Scott Card, notably Ender’s Game and Speaker for the Dead, illustrates.
Long before I finally did read Ender, I read the customer reviews on Amazon, and it became clear to me that the novel is a specific favorite with adolescent boys. This fueled a skepticism that was already kindled by the fact that both Ender and Speaker won both the Hugo and the Nebula. This unprecedented success cannot be real, I thought, remembering the lunacy of the Hugo awards for 2001 being awarded to a Harry Potter novel (and then not even to the first one, Potter’s number 2 till the end being little more than a repeat of the same in more and more pages). I furthermore expected a ‘Reaganite‘ work that will promote conservative US values. (Yes, this is another preconception I have that I often struggle against: that Americans mostly produce either commercial vapor or right-wing propaganda. Which of course I know is not true - I also want to start a campaign to have Samuel R. Delany nominated for the Nobel prize. I sooth my conscience by telling myself that preconceptions are by definition not rational, and being aware of them might help me to combat them).
The first few chapters of Ender did little to dispel my skepticism, but soon I was hooked, and I remember staying up way past midnight to finish it. It left me with a satisfied feeling of having been proved wrong: Ender is good. It may not be brilliant, but there is no shame in it having won the awards. I especially liked the criticism of war and fear of the Other, and felt that Ender contributes to a discourse about the morality of war that includes works such as Starship Troopers and The Forever War.
With time however, my evaluation of the novel dropped a few notches again. There is no denying that it is an exceptionally pleasurable read, and I do agree with the novel’s message about understanding differences rather than nurturing fear of the unfamiliar, but the novel does have some serious flaws. I did not really like any of the characters (I really detested Valentine and thought the relationship between her and Ender to be the novels weakest point), and I would expect a society that have the ability to wage interstellar war to at least have more knowledge of child psychology than evident in the abuse Ender had to endure at the Academy. I found the novel uneven, taking a completely different direction half way through (though I enjoyed it more after the change). It lacks subtlety, and the emotion often borders on melodrama; all in all not as spectacular as I thought directly on completion of the novel, but then again not as bad as I expected beforehand either.
For the next year, every time I selected something to read from my shelve of unread novels, Speaker for the Dead glared at me. I would pick it up, turn it around a few times, and put it back to select something else. And every time the glare would be more insistent, as if it wanted to tell me that the longer it stays on my to-do list, the more it will become a symbol for all things postponed but ultimately unavoidable. Consequently I would dread reading it even more.
Eventually I succumbed, and I stayed up till 2 o’clock last night (this morning actually) knowing that I will not be able to sleep until I’ve finished it. Again a thoroughly enjoyable read. Even better than Ender, although like its predecessor it has many flaws. In Speaker, the humanism (or should it be ramenism) that I liked in the second half of Ender is the dominant feature, the characterization is far more mature than in Ender, and the piggies are truly likeable aliens. I personally enjoyed the philosophical approach of the novel more than the action packed adventure in Ender. The theory of the levels of alien-ness is fascinating, and indeed something I will ponder on for some time to come.
Although I enjoyed Speaker more than Ender, I also find its faults more obvious: Even before Ender departs from Trondheim, it was already clear to me that the piggies become trees, and the motive for killing Pipo was probably honorable. But then I still had to read about 300 pages before the characters in the novel realize what I already knew. Once Ender arrives on Lusitania, the novel is no longer an adventure to uncover the biological secrets that make the piggies Other, but rather an analysis of the human emotions and motivations that make us as much Other to our neighbors as the piggies or the hive queen. (I find it significant that Ender Speaks for 2 Dead, firstly a human (nick-) named ‘Dog’, and then for a piggie named Human.) In addition, I cannot see how any person (be it human or ramen or animal) can retain memory and identity after their DNA has been snipped to pieces and then recombined differently. Lastly, like Ender the novel lacks emotional subtlety.
To conclude, what can I learn from this experience? I suppose firstly that I must never abide by my preconceptions. To find pleasure where you did not expect it can be extremely rewarding. And of course: novels need not be either good or bad – there are many ways and degrees in which it can be both or neither.
The next Card novel on my list is Prentice Alvin. I picked it up this morning, turned it around, and put it back feeling somewhat reluctant to read it. Then I choose Delany’s Atlantis: Three Tales, another work I’ve been postponing now for a while. For a different reason though: Including his latest, Dark Reflections, there are only 3 works by Delany that I have not read yet, and I am afraid there will soon be none left to look forward to.