Eagle's Path

Passion and dispassion. Choose two.

Larry Wall

2014-08-09: Orphaning some software packages

As mentioned in my previous message, I'm orphaning various software packages that I was maintaining as part of my job at Stanford, or that for some other reason I'm no longer using directly. My goal is to free up some time and space for new work projects at my new employer, for other hobbies, and to take better care of other projects that I'm not orphaning.

The following software packages are now orphaned, and marked as such on their web pages:

I'm also stepping down from Debian package maintenance for the OpenAFS and Shibboleth packages, and have already notified the relevant communities. For the Debian packages, and for the above software packages, I will continue to provide security support until someone else can take them over.

WebAuth is going to be in a state of transition as noted on its page:

My successor at Stanford will be continuing maintenance and development, but that person hasn't been hired yet, and it will take some time for them to ramp up and start making new releases (although there may be at least one interim release with work that I'm finishing now). It's therefore not strictly orphaned, but it's noted that way on my software pages until someone else at Stanford picks it up.

Development of the other packages that I maintain should continue as normal, with a small handful of exceptions. The following packages are currently in limbo, since I'm not sure if I'll have continued use for them:

I'm not very happy with the current design of either kadmin-remctl or wallet, so if I do continue to maintain them (and have time to work on them), I am likely to redesign them considerably.

For all of my packages, I've been adding clones of the repository to GitHub as an additional option besides my personal Git repository server. I'm of two minds about using (and locking myself into) more of the GitHub infrastructure, but repository copies on GitHub felt like it might be useful for anyone who wanted to fork or take over maintenance. I will be adding links to the GitHub repositories to the software packages for things that are in Git.

If you want to take over any of the orphaned software packages, feel free. When you're ready for the current software pages to redirect to its new home, let me know.

2014-08-08: A new challenge

Those reading this journal may have noticed that my rate of posting has dropped a bit in the past few years, and quite a lot in the past year. One of the major reasons for this was work, which had been getting more bureaucratic, more stressful, less trusting, and more fearful. After this got drastically worse in the past six months, I finally decided enough was enough and took advantage of a good opportunity to do something different.

I will be joining Dropbox's site reliability engineering team in a week and a half (which means that I'll be working on their servers, not on the product itself). It will take a few months to settle in, but hopefully this will mean a significant improvement to my stress levels and a lot of interesting projects to work on.

I'm taking advantage of this change to inventory the various things I'm currently committed to and let go of some projects to make more space in my life. There are also a variety of software projects that I was maintaining as part of my job at Stanford, and I will be orphaning many of those packages. I'll make another journal post about that a bit later.

For Debian folks, I am going to be at Debconf, and hope to meet many of you there. (It's going to sort of be my break between jobs.) In the long run, I'm hoping this move will let me increase my Debian involvement.

In the long run, I expect most of my free software work, my reviews, and the various services I run to continue as before, or even improve as my stress drops. But I've been at Stanford for a very long time, so this is quite the leap into the unknown, and it's going to take a while before I'm sure what new pattern my life will fall into.

2014-08-03: Review: Parasite

Review: Parasite, by Mira Grant

Series Parasitology #1
Publisher Orbit
Copyright October 2013
ISBN 0-316-21893-6
Format Kindle
Pages 504

It's 2027, and a company named Symbogen has revolutionized medicine and health. They manufacture a genetically-engineered parasite based on a tapeworm that can stabilize and protect the health of just about anyone. It can synthesize medication, fix chronic medical problems, and be adapted to different conditions. (Yes, I know biological systems don't work this way. That's not going to be the only suspension of disbelief problem.) This has made Symbogen one of the most powerful corporations in the country, aided by the skill at marketing and self-promotion shown by one of the founders.

Sal, the protagonist of the novel, is one of Symbogen's most famous success stories. Sally was the victim of a horrible car crash that put her into an apparently irreversible coma. But as her family was debating whether to turn off life support, she woke up. She had no memory of her previous life at all, and had to relearn fine motor control, reading, and many other skills. She was essentially a new person. But she was alive; her symbiont had saved her.

When the story proper starts, Sal is still a ward of her parents. She has generally adult skills despite still struggling with reading, but she still has occasional attacks and is under intensive monitoring by Symbogen. That means periodic mandatory appointments with Symbogen, which she hates, but she's otherwise started building a life for herself: a job in an animal shelter, an interest in exotic predatory plants, and, most notably, a boyfriend. There are things about her life she doesn't like, and she wants to be free of Symbogen, but she doesn't have a bad life. But then a mysterious illness begins sweeping through the population, causing people to go blank, apparently lose their minds, and then start attacking those near them.

Some of you have doubtless already figured out the key plot revelation. It's not hard; even if you didn't from the summary, you will probably figure it out shortly into the book. And therein lies a large problem with this novel: it's hopelessly predictable. Creepy evil corporation that supposedly has your best interests at heart, check. Plucky mad scientist opposition who understands exactly what's going on, check. Well-meaning but heavy-handed government agents who try to get involved but mostly make everything worse, check. (Although it's unusual to have those agents as part of the protagonist's family, and I thought that added some additional depth.) Mostly clueless protagonist sucked into the plot and becoming critical to its resolution, check. Very few readers are going to be surprised by this story.

This is not, by itself, a fatal flaw. Predictable story structures can carry satisfying variations, or introduce the reader to enjoyable characters. And I think Grant manages both here.

Seanan McGuire, both as herself and under her Mira Grant pseudonym, tends to write damaged and struggling characters. Both her Newsflesh and October Daye series feature protagonists that have been hurt badly, but are coping and muddling through in their own ways. In Parasite, I think she takes a more daring and intriguing approach: a protagonist that other people in the story perceive as damaged and struggling, but who actually isn't. Sal is not a badly injured Sally, and she's quite a bit healthier than those around her think she is. Her thought processes don't work quite the same as those around her, but that's not because she's hurt. That's because she's a different person. This makes Parasite partly a novel about identity, about Sal claiming ownership of her own life. Grant drags this out longer than I wish she had, but I liked the idea. In Sal, she strikes a good balance between gratitude and genuine affection for her family and the need to become her own person unconstrained by other people's expectations.

As with the Newsflesh series, Grant uses quotes and excerpts from interviews to fill in the world background: a few at the start of each chapter, and more around each part boundary. I like this technique, and Grant uses it well. By the end of the book, the Rolling Stone interview with the head of Symbogen has added a lot of insight into how Symbogen manages its public relations.

Grant also throws in a few of her trademark dangerously off-beat characters: hyper-competent, wise-cracking, but eerily skewed. I loved those in Blackout and I loved Tansy and Dr. Cale here. (Adam was much less successful.) A whole book from Tansy's perspective wouldn't work, since she needs Sal as a straight woman, but I thought she stole every scene she was in.

However, I agree wholeheartedly with Tansy on another point: Sal is remarkably, irritatingly dim about what is apparently intended to be the critical revelation of the book. I won't state it outright; given its significant presence in the final scene, apparently it is intended to be a spoiler. But I figured it out about 50 pages into the book. Grant telegraphs this revelation heavily, and Tansy considers it painfully obvious (with quite a bit of justification). But Sal doesn't figure it out for the entire book, ignores all the signs, and is apparently willfully blind. In a book written from the first-person perspective by an otherwise-reliable narrator, this is highly annoying. It significantly undermined my enjoyment of the book. I spent much of the novel ahead of the narrator in my understanding of the plot and waiting, in vain, for her to get on with it already.

That unfortunately makes Parasite a mixed bag. I really liked many of the characters, and I think Grant did some interesting things with family dynamics and with claiming one's own identity. But this is undermined by a very predictable plot, the protagonist deciding to be dumber than a sack of hammers about a critical plot point, and some rather dubious world logic. (For example, why is Sal terrified of bad driving? It makes sense as a post-traumatic stress reaction... except it's a critical point to her characterization that she never went through that stress.) Sometimes I wanted to like this book and sometimes I wanted to shake it, and sometimes I felt both reactions at the same time.

I like Grant's writing and characterization well enough that I will probably read the sequel, but this is more like the later books in the Newsflesh series than it is like the spectacular Feed. Worth reading, at least for me, but it could have been better.

Rating: 7 out of 10

2014-07-27: AFS::PAG 1.02

This is primarily a testing exercise. I moved my software release process and web page generation to a different host, and wanted to run through a release of a package to make sure that I got all the details right.

It's still a bit clunky, and I need to tweak the process, but it's close enough.

That said, there are a few minor changes in this module (which provides the minimum C glue required to do AFS operations from Perl — only the pieces that can't be duplicated by calling command-line programs). I'm improving the standardization of my Perl distributions, so I've moved NEWS to Changes and switched to the Lancaster Consensus environment variables for controlling testing. I also added some more pieces to the package metadata.

You can get the latest version from the AFS::PAG distribution page.

2014-07-23: WebAuth 4.6.1

This is a bug-fix release of the WebAuth site-wide web authentication system. As is typical, I accumulated a variety of minor bug fixes and improvements that I wanted to get into a release before starting larger work (in this case, adding JSON support for the user information service protocol).

The most severe bug fix is something that only folks at Stanford would notice: support for AuthType StanfordAuth was broken in the 4.6.0 release. This is for legacy compatibility with WebAuth 2.5. It has been fixed in this release.

In other, more minor bug fixes, build issues when remctl support is disabled have been fixed, expiring password warnings are shown in WebLogin after any POST-based authentication, the confirmation page is forced if authorization identity switching is available, the username field is verified before multifactor authentication to avoid subsequent warnings, newlines and tabs are allowed in the XML sent from the WebKDC for user messages, empty RT and ST parameters are correctly diagnosed, and there are some documentation improvements.

The main new feature in this release is support for using FAST armor during password authentication in mod_webkdc. A new WebKdcFastArmorCache directive can be set to point at a Kerberos ticket cache to use for FAST armor. If set, FAST is required, so the KDC must support it as well. This provides better wire security for the initial password authentication to protect against brute-force dictionary attacks against the password by a passive eavesdropper.

This release also adds a couple of new factor types, mp (mobile push) and v (voice), that Stanford will use as part of its Duo Security integration.

Note that, for the FAST armor feature, there is also an SONAME bump in the shared library in this release. Normally, I wouldn't bump the SONAME in a minor release, but in this case the feature was fairly minor and most people will not notice the change, so it didn't feel like it warranted a major release. I'm still of two minds about that, but oh well, it's done and built now. (At least I noticed that the SONAME bump was required prior to the release.)

You can get the latest release from the official WebAuth distribution site or from my WebAuth distribution pages.

2014-07-16: wallet 1.1

Wallet is the secure credential management infrastructure that we use at Stanford, primarily for keytabs but increasingly for any sort of security keys that have to be stored somewhere and retrieved by specific systems or people.

The primary goal of this release is to add Duo support. This is currently somewhat preliminary, with only a single Duo integration object type that creates a UNIX integration. (Well, technically it can create any type of integration, but the integration information is returned in the format expected by the UNIX integration.) I expect a later release to rename all existing "duo" object types to "duo-unix" and add additional object types for the various other types of integrations that one wants to support, but that work will have to wait for another day.

Since it's been over a year since the previous release, there are also other accumulated bug fixes and improvements. I also tried to merge or address as many issues or patches that had been sent to me over the past year as I could, although many larger patches or improvements had to be deferred. Highlights:

There are also multiple other bug fixes and general improvements, such as using DateTime objects uniformly for all database access that involves date fields, and recording ACL renames in the ACL history table. Both the API and the database layer are still kind of a mess, and I'd love to rewrite them with the benefit of experience and more knowledge, but that's a project for another day.

You can get the latest release from the wallet distribution page.

2014-07-12: Review: Neptune's Brood

Review: Neptune's Brood, by Charles Stross

Series Freyaverse #2
Publisher Ace
Copyright July 2013
ISBN 1-101-62453-1
Format Kindle
Pages 325

Neptune's Brood is set in the same universe as Saturn's Children, but I wouldn't call it a sequel. It takes place considerably later, after substantial expansion of the robot civilization to the stars, and features entirely different characters (or, if there was overlap, I didn't notice). It also represents a significant shift in tone: while Saturn's Children is clearly a Heinlein pastiche and parody, Neptune's Brood takes its space opera more seriously. There is some situational humor — assault auditors, for example — but this book is played mostly straight, and I detected little or no Heinlein. This is Stross fleshing out his own space opera concept.

This being Stross, that concept is not exactly conventional. This is a space opera about economics. Specifically, it's a space opera about interstellar economics, a debt pyramid, and a very interesting remapping of the continual growth requirements of capitalism to the outward expansion of colonization. The first-person protagonist comes from a "family" (as in Saturn's Children, the concept exists but involves rather more aggressive control of the instantiated "children") of bankers, but she is a forensic accountant and historian who specializes in analysis of financial scams. As you might expect, this is a significant clue about the plot.

Neptune's Brood opens with Krina in search of her sister. She is supposed to be an itinerant scholar, moving throughout colonized space to spend some time with various scattered sisters, spreading knowledge and expanding her own. But it's clear from the start of the book that something else is going on, even before an assassin with Krina's face appears on her trail. Unfortunately, it takes roughly a third of the book to learn just what is happening beneath the surface, and most of that time is spent in a pointless interlude on a flying cathedral run by religious fanatics.

The religion is a callback to Saturn's Children: robots who are trying to spread original humanity (the Fragiles) to the stars. This mostly doesn't go well, and is going particularly poorly for the ship that Krina works for passage on. But this is a brief gag that I thought went on much too long. The plot happens to Krina for this first section of the book rather than the other way around, little of lasting significance other than some character introductions occurs, and the Church itself, while playing a minor role in the later plot, is not worth the amount of attention that it gets. The best parts of the early book are the interludes in which Krina explains major world concepts to the reader. These are absolutely blatant infodumping, and I'm not sure how Stross gets away with them, but somehow he does, at least for me. They remind me of some of his blog posts, except tighter and fit into an interesting larger structure.

Thankfully, once Krina finally arrives on Shin-Tethys, the plot improves considerably. There was a specific moment for me when the book became interesting: when Krina finds her sib's quarters in Shin-Tethys and analyzes what she finds there. It's the first significant thing in the book that she does rather than have done to her or thrust upon her, and she's a much better character when she's making decisions. This is also about the point where Stross starts fully explaining slow money, which is key to both the economics and the plot, and the plot starts to unwind its various mysteries and identify the motives of the players.

Even then, Krina suffers from a lack of agency. Only at rare intervals does she get a chance to affect the story. Most of what she did of relevance to this book she did in the past, and while those descriptions of the backstory are interesting, they don't entirely make up for a passive protagonist. Thankfully, the other characters are varied and interesting enough, and the political machinations and cascading revelations captivating enough, that the last part of the book was very satisfying even with Krina on for the ride.

This is a Stross novel, so it's full of two-dollar technical words mixed with technobabble. However, it shares with Saturn's Children the recasting of robots as the norm and fleshy humans as the exception, which means much of the technobabble is a straight substitution for our normal babble about meaty bodies and often works as an alienation technique. That makes it a bit more tolerable for me, although I still wished Stross would turn down the manic vocabulary in places. This bothers some people more than others; if you had no trouble with Accelerando, Neptune's Brood will pose no problems.

I don't think the first section of this book was successful, but I liked the rest well enough to recommend it. If you like your space opera with a heavy dose of economics, a realistic attitude towards deep space exploration without faster-than-light technology, and a realistic perspective on the hostility of alien planets to Earth life, Neptune's Brood is a good choice. And any book that quotes David Graeber's Debt, and whose author has clearly paid attention to its contents, wins bonus points from me.

Rating: 8 out of 10

2014-07-11: Net::Duo 1.00

This is the first release of Net::Duo, which provides an object-oriented Perl interface for the Duo Security REST APIs. It attempts to abstract some of the API details and provide an object-oriented view of the returned objects in order to make use of the API in Perl code more natural than dealing with JSON data structures directly. Currently, some parts of the Auth and Admin APIs are implemented alongside with generic methods to call any of the JSON-based APIs.

The approach I took with this module was a bit of a science experiment, and I'm still not entirely sure what I think about the results. Duo Security offers sample Perl code that provides the equivalent of the call and call_json Net::Duo methods but stops there. One sends in data structures and gets back data structures from JSON and manipulates everything in that format.

I prefer a more object-oriented style, and want the module to do a bit more of the work for me, so this implementation wraps some of the APIs in objects with method calls. For updates, there are setters for the object itself and then a commit method to push the changes to Duo. This requires more implementation effort, and each API that should get richer treatment has to be modelled, but the resulting code looks like more natural object-oriented code.

I wasn't completely sure going in if the effort to reward tradeoff made sense, and having finished the module sufficiently for Stanford's immediate needs, I'm still not sure. It was certainly more effort to write the base module this way, but on the other hand it also meant that I could map Perl notions of true and false to Duo's and provide much simpler methods for common operations. I still think this will make the code more maintainable in the long run, but I think it's within the margin of difference of opinion.

Regardless, you can get the latest version from the Net::Duo distribution page and shortly from CPAN as well.

2014-07-02: remctl 3.9

This release fixes an embarassing bug that caused the server to often abort sending information back to the client if the server-side program exited while the server was still sending data. It also fixes a more minor bug in which children of the server were spawned with SIGPIPE ignored instead of set to the default handling behavior.

The major new feature in this release is a new ACL type, localgroup, contributed by Remi Ferrand. When this ACL type is used, the remote principal is converted to a local username using the normal Kerberos krb5_aname_to_localname call, and then the server checks whether that local username is a member of a local (nsswitch) group.

This release also prefers calloc and reallocarray to malloc and realloc with calculated sizes across all code, and adds version and compatibility information to all manual pages.

You can get the latest release from the remctl distribution page.

2014-07-02: rra-c-util 5.5

The most significant change in this release is a somewhat embarassing bug fix: the network_read and network_write functions introduced in version 4.2 to support timeouts didn't correctly handle a timeout interrupted by a signal. This is now fixed by restarting the calls on EINTR.

Also in this release is a general cleanup for integer overflows during memory allocation. rra-c-util now provides a replacement for reallocarray for systems that don't have it, and calloc and reallocarray are used internally where a size is calculated with multiplication. The util library also now provides a checked xreallocarray function.

There are also a few minor fixes: portable/system.h guarantees the inclusion of inttypes.h and limits.h, portable/pam.h will now build with a C++ compiler, the Kerberos Autoconf probes provide a Makefile variable that can be used to suppress warnings from Kerberos headers by forcing them to be system headers, and the util/messages-krb5 test will be skipped when not built with Kerberos support.

You can get the latest version from the rra-c-util distribution page.

2014-07-02: C TAP Harness 3.1

Most of the changes in this release are based on work by Peter Pöschl to make the behavior of the C TAP library more consistent with the Perl Test::More functions. ok, okv, and all the is_* functions now return true if the test succeeds and false if it fails, allowing them to be used in conditionals. diag and sysdiag now always return 1, making it easier to insert (possibly temporary) calls into compound statements while debugging test cases.

The C TAP library now provides a new breallocarray API that does the same thing as brealloc but takes calloc-style arguments and checks internally for integer overflow. Tests for integer overflow during memory allocation have also been added to several other parts of C TAP Harness, including the runtests harness and other internals of the C TAP library. These probably don't matter a tremendous amount for test code, but best to be safe and consistent everywhere possible.

All uses of sprintf have now been replaced with a simpler internal string concatenation function that checks for allocation overflow. The previous usage was probably safe, but this approach is much easier to audit.

You can get the latest release from the C TAP Harness distribution page.

2014-07-01: Review: Lockstep

Review: Lockstep, by Karl Schroeder

Publisher Tor
Copyright March 2014
ISBN 0-7653-3726-6
Format Hardcover
Pages 351

Toby McGonigal's family fled an Earth dominated by trillionaires and vicious class conflict, and attempt, instead, a very risky and precarious settlement on a trans-Neptunian object. It's the last unclaimed but marginally habitable space left in the solar system, and securing their claim requires constant bureaucratic hoop-jumping. That's what sent Toby on a solo mission to a distant moon of their home to claim it and solidify their title. But, while in cold sleep, his craft hits a small chunk of rock, and he wakes up near another world: cold, silent, dead... but apparently with lifeless cities. Another trip through suspended animation in a desperate attempt to conserve resources against the distant hope of rescue has him awakening in a society both utterly foreign and yet strangely familiar.

Schroeder is one of the better big idea writers in science fiction, but I found Lockstep to be a mixed bag. He does a surprisingly good job with the core conceit of the novel (more on that in a moment), even though it's a tricky one to make believable. Surrounding that, though, are a lot of less convincing bits that I kept having to not think about too hard, such as Toby crossing the path of another trans-Neptunian object after the accident (space is really, really big and really, really empty), or the implications of later revelations about the time scales involved in parts of the plot. Some parts of the world building, even if scientifically plausible, struck me as sloppy; for example, a religion plays a prominent role in the plot, but the nature of that religion was not particularly believable, nor was its interaction with the plot climax. I won't go into details about the religion, since it's a major plot point, but the short version is that religions tend to mature from the concrete to the abstract, not the other way around.

That said, the core conceit is both surprising and considerably better-defended in the book than I thought it could be. The world into which Toby awakes is the world of the locksteps: a society that uses suspended animation in a universal and coordinated way to build a functional society on the far outskirts of the solar system. Humans emerge for some short period of time, like a month, and build, trade, interact, and consume. They welcome ships traveling from other trans-Neptunian worlds and prepare for their own journeys. And then they go into suspended animation for an extended period — 15 years and 30 years are common choices — while robots slowly gather more resources and energy, and repair and replace what's consumed in the month of active life. Ships travel with passengers in suspended animation, allowing the vast distances between these cold worlds to be reached during the sleep period. And, since all members of the lockstep sleep and wake on the same schedule, there is no wrenching desynchronization with the surrounding society during travel. One may spend thirty years in transit, but no time passes for anyone else in the lockstep while you're traveling either. A world can effectively trade with all other worlds within a thirty year travel radius without noticing the elapsed time.

This is a technological system that at first doesn't sound like it would work, but Schroeder does a great job defending it and chasing down implications. The lockstep civilization serves as a sort of anchor and time capsule separate from the more frantic pace of the so-called fast worlds. The trans-Neptunian lockstep worlds are remote enough and poor enough to not attract too much unwanted attention, and are thus tolerated by fast societies that may have more available resources. (Although, to be sure, automated robot defenses have to carry a lot of weight here given how helpless the locksteps are during a sleep cycle.) I'm not sure I completely bought the sociology, but it works well enough to carry the weight of the story, and I've never seen a science fiction construction that uses the common technology of suspended animation in quite this way before. Schroeder sets up some nice stabilizing tensions between resources and time, adds some believable political reasons for this fragile society to survive, and uses some of its obvious political vulnerabilities as story drivers.

The plot, unfortunately, isn't as good as the big idea, and particularly suffers at the start of the book. Toby is a teenager without much experience (Lockstep is marketed as young adult), and is immediately thrown into a strange and quickly hostile environment. This means that he spends the first half of the book reacting to a blizzard of new information, and the plot tends to revert to a tour of Schroeder's constructed world. Toby is also a bit of a cipher and a bit of an everyman, without many feelings or opinions beyond the obvious feelings that any teenage boy would go through in this situation. That makes the sense of a world tour even stronger.

This flaw does not persist through the whole book. Toby does eventually start making decisions and doing things, some of the supporting characters add additional depth, and I found the unwinding of the plot surprisingly satisfying. The nature of time in this world lets Schroeder have both epic sweep and personal connection at the same time, which lets him pull off some neat contrasts between the personal and the political. I also liked Toby's gradual piecing together of what actually happened while he was asleep, both in the construction of society as a whole and in the personal conflicts between people he knew well. Some of the ease of grand manipulation seemed dubious to me, but, in Schroeder's defense, people do develop a reverence for and stories about things that have lasted a very long time, and Schroeder's setup gives him quite a lot to work with in that department.

So, a mixed bag. The core concept is thought-provoking and up to Schroeder's usual standards. The surrounding world-building isn't as much, and I think Schroeder reaches for some too-easy explanations and still underplays just how many disruptive things can happen over the span of time that this book covers. The characterization I found weak and unsatisfying for much of the book, but it gets moderately better in the end. There's a bit too much tour, and a bit too much world exploration instead of plot, but it's a fascinating world and I still enjoyed the tour.

With stronger characters and a few fewer dubious supporting pillars in the world background, I think this would have been an excellent book. As is, it's an enjoyable novel set firmly in the big idea and deep future end of science fiction, and I'm always happy to see more stories like that. It's not the best that Schroeder has done, but I still recommend it.

Rating: 7 out of 10

2014-06-30: Review: Ancillary Justice

Review: Ancillary Justice, by Ann Leckie

Series Imperial Radch #1
Publisher Orbit
Copyright 2013
ISBN 0-316-24662-X
Format Trade paperback
Pages 416

As Ancillary Justice opens, Breq is on an icy planet trying to track down a person who has gone rather thoroughly to ground. As her search continues, the reader slowly learns the context of that search, which is only the latest step of a long and quixotic exercise in private determination. She was set on her path by events twenty years previous, told in interleaved flashbacks, that have left her greatly diminished and thrust outside of any of the context of her over thousand years of life. Breq was Justice of Toren, a starship and AI that possessed thousands of ancillaries, human bodies slaved to her mind. Now only this one remains, and nothing exists of her former life other than this goal.

It's always hard to write a review of a book that I loved this much. I want to find some way to grab the reader and shake them and say "you have to read this!" without giving away any of the delicious details. That's particularly difficult with Ancillary Justice, since one of the delights of this book is the slow unfolding of not only the plot but the background and motivations behind the plot. There is so much beneath the surface of Breq's methodical intent, and discovering all the nuances is utterly delightful. This is also a book that is very deeply concerned with identity, and which does one of the best jobs I've seen in science fiction of showing a non-human first-person protagonist: close enough to human to permit identification and comprehension, but far enough away for delightful sparks of unexpected insight or thought-provoking difference.

Breq is a ship, and AIs are central to this story, so the comparison that comes immediately to mind is with Iain M. Banks. Leckie's role for ship AIs is much different than the structure of Banks's Culture, but I think this is still an apt comparison. Like Banks, Leckie is writing large-scale space opera dominated by a meddling empire that follows some familiar human patterns but not others. Banks's Culture takes a less direct approach with its meddling; the Radch has a more Roman attitude towards preventative conquest and citizenship. But both deal with large-scale issues of politics, culture, and conquest. Both also write excellent AIs, but I think Leckie is more successful than Banks at giving her AIs inhuman properties and creating a sense of eerie alienness that sometimes fades almost entirely and sometimes comes sharply to the surface. The first-person perspective helps considerably there.

But where Ancillary Justice truly shined for me is in the interpersonal relationships, and in the insight they provided into character and motive. At the start of the book, Breq finds a drug addict dying in the cold and rescues her, bringing her along on her search for lack of a better option. Breq's relationship with Seivarden is complex, difficult for both of them, badly asymmetric at the start, and develops into something brilliant. At the start of the book, Seivarden is easy to dislike, and Breq's tone is refreshingly bracing and forthright. But through the course of the book Seivarden grows into something much more, in a way that I found both believable and incredibly compelling. And Leckie does this without falling into any of the typical relationship patterns, without introducing artificial romance (or, indeed, any romance at all, which is an excellent choice here), and without compromising the personalities of either character. It's masterfully done.

One of the most amazing things about this book to me is that it's a first novel. I never would have guessed that from reading it. It's beautifully paced, the characterization is deep and compelling, and Leckie avoids any sign of the typical first-novel problem of stuffing the book with too much Stuff. Ancillary Justice is a capable and confident novel that builds a compelling world and even more compelling characters. I liked it more than I like most of the Culture novels, which is saying quite a lot, but Leckie offers much of the same scope with deeper and more personal characterization and a tighter plot.

I haven't yet remarked on one aspect of this book that every other review seems to remark on: its treatment of gender. The Radch do not recognize or care about gender distinctions, and therefore Breq struggles throughout the book with proper gender labeling in much the same way that a native English speaker tends to struggle with grammatical gender when learning a Romance language, except with more social consequences. Leckie has chosen to represent this in the novel by having Breq refer to everyone uniformly as "she." This has its pluses and minuses: it still supports a binary gender concept where a gender-neutral pronoun might not, but given all the negative reaction this book got just for using "she," a gender-neutral pronoun might be a bridge too far for a lot of readers. I thought it created a nice bit of alienation, a way of forcing the reader to look at gender markers from the outside and a way to point out how arbitrary many of them are. It was also interesting to see how surprised I was at various points in the book when it became obvious that some person Breq had been calling "she" in the first-person narration turned out, from story context, to probably be male.

That said, I think this part of the book is overblown in reviews. It's often the first thing people mention, but while it was a nice side bit of world-building, I don't think it's that central to the story. I'm particularly baffled by the handful of people who complained about it, since it's not intrusive and it quickly fades into the background apart from occasional necessary shifts of mental image. (It does create the impression of a world containing only women, but I found that a nice change from the more common impression in space opera of a world containing only men.)

Ancillary Justice has already won the Nebula and Arthur C. Clarke awards and tied for the BSFA award for best novel, and I'm happy to report that it deserves all of those. I haven't yet read all of the other Hugo nominees, but it's hard to imagine a world in which it won't top my ballot. This is a fantastic novel, by far the best thing I've read so far this year. I'm delighted that it's the first book of a trilogy, since I'm not done with either the world or the characters yet, but it stands well on its own and reaches a satisfying conclusion. I recommend it to everyone, but particularly to anyone who likes Banks, intelligent ships, or who is looking for thoughtful and complex space opera.

Followed by Ancillary Sword.

Rating: 10 out of 10

2014-06-29: Review: The Knowledge

Review: The Knowledge, by Lewis Dartnell

Publisher Penguin
Copyright 2014
ISBN 0-698-15165-8
Format Kindle
Pages 328

The cover pitch for The Knowledge is that technological civilization has collapsed. A war, an asteroid, a pandemic, or some other catastrophic event has ended life as we know it. Survivors have recovered enough to stabilize the population, but all the industry and infrastructure that supports the modern world has been crippled and the knowledge lost. What do they need to know to rebuild the world? (The subtitle, How to Rebuild Our World from Scratch, is deceptive. Dartnell spends a lot of time talking about what could be scavenged from the ruins after an event like a pandemic that leaves buildings and tools intact.)

This brief description may bring several incorrect ideas to mind, so a few clarifications are in order. First, this is not a book about how to survive an apocalypse, or how to stabilize society afterwards. Dartnell skips over anything related to basic survival or politics, and this book would only be of limited interest to preppers. Rather, it is focused on the key concepts and key processes that underlie much of what makes up our civilization, and how those processes can be bootstrapped and recreated, hopefully much more quickly than the thousands of years they took to develop the first time around.

Second, as much as I think Dartnell would have liked it to be, The Knowledge is not an instruction manual. There's just too much involved in modern machinery, metallurgy, chemistry, and other necessary science and engineering. What it is instead is a tour of the most important ideas, basic processes, and approaches that can lead to creation of an industrial economy. This means it's also a tour of the most critical technology and discoveries that we rely on for day-to-day living.

Each idea presented here is a bare sketch, and would require extensive research and experimentation to put into practice. The Knowledge is not a scientific encyclopedia. Rather, it's a collection of signposts and suggested directions along with some suggestions about sequencing, with special emphasis on the ideas that were unintuitive or surprising, or which took humans much longer to stumble across than would have been necessary.

I will say up front that I am quite dubious about the stated goal of this book. I'm not sure if it would be of significant assistance to people who found themselves in the circumstances that Dartnell postulates, and I'm also not sure it would be as difficult as Dartnell supposes to reconstruct these details from a good library, although the point is well-taken that most modern industrial techniques would be unavailable to a civilization starting from scratch and many historic techniques are no longer practiced and therefore not well-documented. But this book does not have to succeed at its stated goal to be worth reading. The Knowledge provides a fascinating insight into the way our current capabilities developed, other paths that development could have followed, and what building blocks are vital for the industry that we rely on.

If you are like me, the first thing The Knowledge will remind you of is Minecraft, particularly with some of the mods (such as TerraFirmaCraft) that add more realistic detail to the technological bootstrapping. It's a treasure trove for anyone who might be working on that sort of mod or game. Dartnell tries to cover as much of the spectrum of technology as possible, from farming through medicine, from basic materials to industrial chemistry, and from electrical power through transportation. Each chapter necessarily covers only the highlights, the most vital technologies and the early priorities, and many of those are relatively vague pointers. But that's enough for a fascinating orientation. It's also full of memorable trivia: the huge variety of uses to which wood can be put, the difficulty in re-establishing production of industrial acids, the shelf life of gasoline, the global seed vault within the Arctic Circle, and the importance of a long-threaded screw for a lathe, just to name a few examples.

In short, The Knowledge may or may not be a practical aid in rebuilding the world, but it's a lot of fun to read and full of tidbits that are fun to think about or pass on to others. It's also a great orientation in applied technology. The Knowledge is particularly fascinating if you have any interest in the simplified recreation of technological and industrial processes, such as in Minecraft and similar games. For authors of Minecraft mods who are aiming for realism, it might even be required reading. I'd love to see more mods based heavily on the approaches described in this book. The Knowledge also conveys, better than any book or course I've seen, an intuitive feel for the amazing complexity and ingenuity underlying industrial technology.

I pre-ordered a copy of this book as soon as I heard about it, and I was not disappointed. Despite my certainty that I would be one of the early casualties in any general social collapse, I thoroughly enjoyed reading it, and would like to read it again at some point. Recommended, albeit with the caveat that I do not have the background required to verify any of the facts in this book, and am assuming that Dartnell has done his research properly.

Rating: 9 out of 10

2014-06-28: Review: The Wilding

Review: The Wilding, by C.S. Friedman

Series In Conquest Born #2
Publisher DAW
Copyright 2004
Printing July 2005
ISBN 0-7564-0202-6
Format Mass market
Pages 551

In Conquest Born is a rather odd space opera, featuring an interstellar war between two great empires that culminates in an intensely personal struggle between leaders of the two sides. It has one of the most intensely misogynistic societies in science fiction (the villains, yes, but weirdly ambiguous villains), genetic breeding programs for telepaths, and a host of unlikable but oddly fascinating characters. I thought it was weaker on re-read than I remembered it being originally, but it's still singular enough in memory that I wanted to read the sequel.

The Wilding picks up in the same universe a century and a half later. I expected more of a direct connection to the plot of In Conquest Born, but I think this book could be read on its own. (This is good, given how the plot of In Conquest Born tends to slip out of my memory, despite how unique the book is.) The Azeans and the Braxins are, of course, still at war, an on-again, off-again affair that neither side seems likely to ever win. But the Azeans have forbidden psychic powers and driven all psychics underground, if they still exist at all. They are supposedly too unstable to be allowed in the carefully constructed Azean society.

Tathas is Braxin, but not from the ruling Braxaná tribe. He is caught practicing old rituals of his native tribe and escapes sentence of death by going on the Wilding, an ancient practice of leaving Braxin culture to find new genetic material and bring it back to strengthen their species. Or, put in less euphemistic terms, to find and rape a woman and bring back the resulting child, although apparently retrieving a genetic sample would also work. Did I mention the misogynistic society part? Still there.

Zara, the other primary protagonist, is an Azean mediator who, as the book is opening, starts developing psychic powers. This is a rather serious problem that gets her suspended from her job. Her check of her own genetic records (the old-school SF obsession with eugenics is also still there) leads to the discovery that she's an identical twin, whose sister was kidnapped as an infant under mysterious circumstances and apparently by underground psychics. Zara decides to go in search of her.

As with In Conquest Born, this book is full of deeply unpleasant societies and world views. Also as with In Conquest Born, I don't think Friedman intends any of them to be held up as examples of correct politics or behavior. What makes both of these books unusual is that neither she nor the characters seem to be making any attempt to construct a third alternative that would be better. The secret society of psychics has a different appeal, but it's not clear the characters would want to be part of it either, and it's quite possible that they're still responsible for a lot of the crap that's going on in the galaxy. The book feels like it ought to be political, as these societies are clearly broken and deeply abusive (the Braxins more obviously than the Azeans, but they're both creepy), but it mostly isn't.

Instead, The Wilding is focused on individual people trying to make their way in this world. Those people come from varying strata of these societies. Zara and Tathas are there throughout; other characters crop up briefly with their own viewpoints and then often go away again or are killed. I think Friedman is going for a story of raw emotion and a tight focus on individual actions, with little in the way of clean morality or broader morals. And yet... the final act of the protagonists in the book is a political act that seems aimed at making the universe a better place. In a way, this is a very cynical book: there is a tremendous amount of manipulation and political maneuvering, and it's hard to see any cause here that one can fully support.

This is all rather similar to In Conquest Born, but what held the previous book together was its backbone of obsessive vengeance and the spectacle of two intelligent people from utterly different societies locked in all-out emotional and physical combat. The Wilding doesn't have that. It has characters with strong motives and strong emotions, but none of them are the sort of epic, transcendent emotions that propel mythic heroes at each other. This is a more prosaic and personal book, which means the drama isn't strong and sweeping enough to make the reader forget the deep unpleasantness that's going on around them. The Wilding feels less like a clash of titans and more like personal quests for identity against a universe full of awful people and worse systems. It also retains, in the Braxin, aggressive male-dominant sexuality just this side of a Gor novel, but here that feels seedier and even more squirm-inducing than it did in In Conquest Born. The Wilding is even more ambiguous about the ethics of that sexual and misogynistic abusiveness; Tathas partly gives it up, but this is presented more as an accommodation to another culture than as a real engagement with the inherent abusiveness of Braxin society.

I still have no idea whether and to whom I would recommend In Conquest Born. I'm less torn about The Wilding: don't bother. It's a lesser work in all respects, it shares some of the problems with too many characters and an occasionally incoherent plot, and I had even more trouble with the horrible societies Friedman creates than I did in the previous book. And it doesn't have the same counterbalance of epic, uncontrolled emotions and characters who seem to transcend the story they're in. Instead, it feels more like a story of damaged people in an awful universe who are meddling through as best they can while being manipulated by the people with real power. It got more depressing the more I thought about it, and the ending doesn't salvage the story.

Rating: 4 out of 10

Last modified and spun 2014-08-26