Not many Sci Fi novels could make me think of classic English Literature, but E. M. Forster’s ideology of ‘Only Connect’ as depicted in his turn of the Nineteenth Century’s Howards End, repeatedly came to mind whilst reading Dan Jones’ debut novel.
Man O’War (MOW) pulls no punches and offers no hand-holding throughout its 470-odd pages. But don’t let that suggest it’s anything but a compelling and accessible read. Jones’ day job in the UK Space Agency has clearly informed salient points - if not the origins - of this story, and though it tends to the harder end of the science fiction spectrum, the technology, jargon and concepts are appreciable and, as said above, accessible. More importantly, rather than leading the story, the technology supports it; this is first and foremost a story of characters.
Which is refreshing; I’ve been a long time fan of Michael Crichton and Arthur C Clarke, but the characterisation in their work pales in comparison to the struggles and goals of the cast in MOW. Readers may argue there are aspects of some of them which might be tropes, but I’d argue you’d be hard pushed to find a character as compelling as, say, Tilda, a ‘tough detective’, or D’Souza. Even the grotesques, such as Spidermen - a character undeniably perfect for the silver screen manages to wring sympathy from us; half Gregor Samsa from Metamorphosis, half Ash from Alien with his ‘Yuk, yuk’.
Whilst reading MOW I thought how much more enjoyable Rendezvous with Rama would be if Clarke could write characters like Jones. It may be an unfair comparison seeing as the two books deal with completely different subjects and ideas but, where RWR is limited to a proof-of-concept or an idea with silhouette-characters, MOW has the characters and the concept. Similarly, I can’t recall feeling any sympathy or membership with Crichton’s characters in any of his books the way I have with those in MOW. Certainly, I never shed a tear for those two authors the way I did for those in Jones’ story.
But what struck me the most was the prescient timing of MOW. In our present world where autonomous cars are nearing reality and technology is leaping ahead at such vast paces, the subject matter of pleasure bots slots in (no pun intended) nicely with the worlds depicted in shows like Black Mirror and Altered Carbon. Once again, that’s down to the humanity of the book. I’d argue there are neither heroes nor villains in the story - even the least pleasant characters have very human motivations as does - without drifting into spoiler territory - the arc of Naomi pleasure bot, too. I’ve not seen the likes of it outside of the 2004 reimagined Battlestar Galactica.
Those characters not only underline what it is to be human, and the human condition in toto, but their demographic is different and convincing. Like Zion in The Matrix universe, the world of MOW is populated not with white collar, white-skinned, scientists and corporate males, but a cast far more representative of a future world. It’s a truly diversely charactered story: nationally, abley, sexually and gender-ly. In science fiction, that often feels gratuitous or token, but not here. We’re dropped into a world of real people.
Coming back to the opening of this review, and ‘Only Connect’, the most important human element in MOW for this reader were the linked themes of transhumanism, gender/reassignment and love. We live in an age now where gender fluidity and non-binary gender apportion is slowly becoming the norm. In Howards End, Forster’s position was one of technology encroaching on the ‘true’ human way of life - be it symbolised by the extension of railway lines from London to the country, or otherwise - and that it heralded the death knell of authentic human interaction. Since Forster’s England, globalisation has connected us even more completely. Taking this a step further, MOW depicts not a Forsterian, nihilistic future, but one that shows the unshakeable, hardwired connections that we crave and create; that they will always find a way, evolving with us apace (and I use the word ‘hardwired’ deliberately, as the reader will find out in Naomi’s story).
Deeper down that rabbit hole might be the suggestion that women could be made obsolete, but for their being possessed of a womb. Thematically, Tilda is a tough female but cliches in this regard are avoided; she has a nurturing side, an emotional past - feminine history if you like, and where I can imagine others making her gay (for example) in a clumsy attempt to justify her toughness, Jones makes no such simplistic choices.
To finish off, I wanted to comment on fish (!) in the world of MOW (or so we think - to say more would spoil a magical, thematical moment). Water is such a strong a symbol for emotions and as it forms the world of fishes, their absence becomes a great proxy for the problems when we lose human connection. This emotional connection is offset well against a future where sex, and perhaps even love might end up commodified by kokeshi.
An authentic human, family connection, just like the fishes, might be on the brink of extinction: Dhiraj’s faltering marriage, D’Souza’s indiscriminate sexual proclivities and Salazar’s focus directed solely on his daughter, Lily (the product of a sexual union we’re not given details of, save that the mother is referred to as such, as opposed to his ‘wife’). Even
is little more than a scratched itch, an emotional transaction that they both need, and which Nita later reflects has no lasting effect on her.
But necessary all the same.
Like a man o’war, we’re a kind of siphonophore ourselves; made up of a colony of organisms working together.
Only Connect, indeed.
Man O’War (MOW) pulls no punches and offers no hand-holding throughout its 470-odd pages. But don’t let that suggest it’s anything but a compelling and accessible read. Jones’ day job in the UK Space Agency has clearly informed salient points - if not the origins - of this story, and though it tends to the harder end of the science fiction spectrum, the technology, jargon and concepts are appreciable and, as said above, accessible. More importantly, rather than leading the story, the technology supports it; this is first and foremost a story of characters.
Which is refreshing; I’ve been a long time fan of Michael Crichton and Arthur C Clarke, but the characterisation in their work pales in comparison to the struggles and goals of the cast in MOW. Readers may argue there are aspects of some of them which might be tropes, but I’d argue you’d be hard pushed to find a character as compelling as, say, Tilda, a ‘tough detective’, or D’Souza. Even the grotesques, such as Spidermen - a character undeniably perfect for the silver screen manages to wring sympathy from us; half Gregor Samsa from Metamorphosis, half Ash from Alien with his ‘Yuk, yuk’.
Whilst reading MOW I thought how much more enjoyable Rendezvous with Rama would be if Clarke could write characters like Jones. It may be an unfair comparison seeing as the two books deal with completely different subjects and ideas but, where RWR is limited to a proof-of-concept or an idea with silhouette-characters, MOW has the characters and the concept. Similarly, I can’t recall feeling any sympathy or membership with Crichton’s characters in any of his books the way I have with those in MOW. Certainly, I never shed a tear for those two authors the way I did for those in Jones’ story.
But what struck me the most was the prescient timing of MOW. In our present world where autonomous cars are nearing reality and technology is leaping ahead at such vast paces, the subject matter of pleasure bots slots in (no pun intended) nicely with the worlds depicted in shows like Black Mirror and Altered Carbon. Once again, that’s down to the humanity of the book. I’d argue there are neither heroes nor villains in the story - even the least pleasant characters have very human motivations as does - without drifting into spoiler territory - the arc of Naomi pleasure bot, too. I’ve not seen the likes of it outside of the 2004 reimagined Battlestar Galactica.
Those characters not only underline what it is to be human, and the human condition in toto, but their demographic is different and convincing. Like Zion in The Matrix universe, the world of MOW is populated not with white collar, white-skinned, scientists and corporate males, but a cast far more representative of a future world. It’s a truly diversely charactered story: nationally, abley, sexually and gender-ly. In science fiction, that often feels gratuitous or token, but not here. We’re dropped into a world of real people.
Coming back to the opening of this review, and ‘Only Connect’, the most important human element in MOW for this reader were the linked themes of transhumanism, gender/reassignment and love. We live in an age now where gender fluidity and non-binary gender apportion is slowly becoming the norm. In Howards End, Forster’s position was one of technology encroaching on the ‘true’ human way of life - be it symbolised by the extension of railway lines from London to the country, or otherwise - and that it heralded the death knell of authentic human interaction. Since Forster’s England, globalisation has connected us even more completely. Taking this a step further, MOW depicts not a Forsterian, nihilistic future, but one that shows the unshakeable, hardwired connections that we crave and create; that they will always find a way, evolving with us apace (and I use the word ‘hardwired’ deliberately, as the reader will find out in Naomi’s story).
Deeper down that rabbit hole might be the suggestion that women could be made obsolete, but for their being possessed of a womb. Thematically, Tilda is a tough female but cliches in this regard are avoided; she has a nurturing side, an emotional past - feminine history if you like, and where I can imagine others making her gay (for example) in a clumsy attempt to justify her toughness, Jones makes no such simplistic choices.
To finish off, I wanted to comment on fish (!) in the world of MOW (or so we think - to say more would spoil a magical, thematical moment). Water is such a strong a symbol for emotions and as it forms the world of fishes, their absence becomes a great proxy for the problems when we lose human connection. This emotional connection is offset well against a future where sex, and perhaps even love might end up commodified by kokeshi.
An authentic human, family connection, just like the fishes, might be on the brink of extinction: Dhiraj’s faltering marriage, D’Souza’s indiscriminate sexual proclivities and Salazar’s focus directed solely on his daughter, Lily (the product of a sexual union we’re not given details of, save that the mother is referred to as such, as opposed to his ‘wife’). Even
the sweet union of Adem and Nita
But necessary all the same.
Like a man o’war, we’re a kind of siphonophore ourselves; made up of a colony of organisms working together.
Only Connect, indeed.
