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A thought on military sf
Jan. 6th, 2019 08:10 amThe latest stack of Endeavour books brings me part 3 of an ongoing series I haven't read any of. This often means a struggle to figure out the backstory and relationships between characters because the author assumes the reader has read parts 1 and 2 and retains them perfectly regardless of how long ago they were published.
Well, no worries about being able to follow the story in this case, as it begins the main character being interrogated about key events from the last book. It also takes care to introduce all characters by their full name, give their position in the hierarchy, and explain a bit about what that means.
The one thing missing is the descriptions. I have no idea what any of these people look like. Or what their world and ships look like, smell like, sound like. I just have a bunch of names and ranks floating in midair.
Now, it's common enough for authors who fail to re-introduce characters to also fail to describe them. But this is military sf, and it reminds me that this weird sensory deprivation is something I've run into with even non-sequel military sf a lot.
If the author leaves something out, one should assume that it's not important to them or the intended audience. That's the blinding flash of the obvious that has just struck me. The reader of typical US military sf only requires that the author provide the function of the person or thing. If the characters retire to the wardroom (as they will, because typical US military sf is only interested in the officer class), it is only necessary to know that they are in the wardroom, to set reader expectations about what sort of interaction should happen in that scene. It is not necessary to describe the elaborate inlays of exotic wood, or the sturdy and functional nano-plastic tables that always smell vaguely of disinfectant, unless it is absolutely vital to send the reader a signal about whether the officers are part of a decadent, decaying empire or the scrappy, upright consitutional monarchy which is going to fight the good fight and kick the empire's butt. (Typical US military sf is also suprisingly unenthusiastic about democracy.)
I wouldn't go so far as to call this an insight into the military mind, since so many military sf authors and readers have never actually been in the military. But it helps to illuminate why a book like Ancillary Justice or Ninefox Gambit, which have a military setting but a very different style, leave fans of typical military sf so cold. From this functional viewpoint, information is communicated in too roundabout a way, and even when the right information is stated directly, it's being drowned in useless detail.
Well, no worries about being able to follow the story in this case, as it begins the main character being interrogated about key events from the last book. It also takes care to introduce all characters by their full name, give their position in the hierarchy, and explain a bit about what that means.
The one thing missing is the descriptions. I have no idea what any of these people look like. Or what their world and ships look like, smell like, sound like. I just have a bunch of names and ranks floating in midair.
Now, it's common enough for authors who fail to re-introduce characters to also fail to describe them. But this is military sf, and it reminds me that this weird sensory deprivation is something I've run into with even non-sequel military sf a lot.
If the author leaves something out, one should assume that it's not important to them or the intended audience. That's the blinding flash of the obvious that has just struck me. The reader of typical US military sf only requires that the author provide the function of the person or thing. If the characters retire to the wardroom (as they will, because typical US military sf is only interested in the officer class), it is only necessary to know that they are in the wardroom, to set reader expectations about what sort of interaction should happen in that scene. It is not necessary to describe the elaborate inlays of exotic wood, or the sturdy and functional nano-plastic tables that always smell vaguely of disinfectant, unless it is absolutely vital to send the reader a signal about whether the officers are part of a decadent, decaying empire or the scrappy, upright consitutional monarchy which is going to fight the good fight and kick the empire's butt. (Typical US military sf is also suprisingly unenthusiastic about democracy.)
I wouldn't go so far as to call this an insight into the military mind, since so many military sf authors and readers have never actually been in the military. But it helps to illuminate why a book like Ancillary Justice or Ninefox Gambit, which have a military setting but a very different style, leave fans of typical military sf so cold. From this functional viewpoint, information is communicated in too roundabout a way, and even when the right information is stated directly, it's being drowned in useless detail.
