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The Emergence Chronicles #1
Emergence
In the aftermath of a bionuclear war Candy Smith-Foster searches the ruins of America for any other survivors
291 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published October 1, 1984
About the author
David R. Palmer
12 books65 followersDavid R. Palmer is an American science fiction author. His works have been nominated three times for Hugo Awards.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 223 reviews
June 22, 2017
Apocalypse? Hugo nominee? An eleven year-old girl? A pet parrot? Friend recommendation? Sign me up!
The first part of the story was published in 1981 as a novella in Analog Magazine, followed two years later by Part Two. Both, I think, had well-deserved Hugo noms, and the novel itself was nominated for a Hugo and Locus when published in 1984. Quite honestly, I think I would have loved it had I found it then or a few years after. Seriously, why on earth was I reading Piers Anthony when I could have been reading about a kick-ass girl navigating an empty world?
"Whereupon, for very first time in entire life, Candy Smith-Foster--plucky girl adventurer; most promising pre-adolescent intellect yet discovered amongst Homo post hominem population; youngest ever holder of Sixth Degree Black Belt; resourceful, unstoppable, never-say-die superkid; conquereror of unthinkable odds... Fainted."
The story wastes no time into diving into a series of world-scale catastrophes. Candy's father had been a highly-placed government consultant and doctor, and had the foresight to construct a very comprehensive bunker with just about every resource except hydrophonic gardens. Eventually, she decides to check on life outside and discovers everyone dead, as well discovering a closely-guarded secret of her neighbor and mentor.
It's an intriguing beginning, and I might have been a little bothered by the Speshul Snowflake syndrome (Candy is truly capable of everything) except she is so direct and honest about her feelings that her stiff-upper-lip self-talk and overall competence comes off as courageous.
The narrative structure is--how do I say this--interesting, and now that I know the seeds of the story were in a novella, it makes more sense as a 'hook.' Candy uses a type of shorthand to write her journals, and the 'translation' of it comes across as quite staccato, missing conjunctions and normal sentence structure. Initially, I found it annoying, but it eventually grew on me. Surprisingly, it still does a nice job conveying emotion, whether it's Candy's distress or her self-depreciating humor.
I admit, one of my favorite characters was Terry, frequently referred to as Candy's adoptive twin brother. But I'm biased; as the owner of three parrots, I thought Palmer's characterization was spot-on and hilarious. Terry is a beautiful hyacinth macaw whose "diet is anything within reach, but ideally consists of properly mixed seeds, assorted fruits, nuts, sprinkling of meat, etc. Hobbies include getting head and neck scratched (serious business, this), art of conversation, destruction of world." I did wonder if the average reader would have appreciated the little throw-away notes about Terry, which captured the psittacine love of drama and propensity for destruction.
All that said, there's some barriers here. One is the cognitive dissonance between Candy's mature voice and immature age of eleven, although that is generally acceptably explained within the confines of the story. Two, there's some parts of this that feel more than a little early 80s, particularly Candy's characterization of Terry as her "retarded baby brother." I remember that word being rather prevalent in adolescent vocabulary when I was younger, although even then it was undergoing cultural shift towards unacceptability. On the same note, the general structure of the apocalypse feels a little dispassionate Cold War kind of dynamic rather than the disseminated violence we see more often these days.
Thirdly, and perhaps most significantly, I don't know what the hell Palmer was thinking at about page 200 or so (Volume III--Part Two--Portents). The last 'volume' of the book takes a fairly significant curve in plotting and ties in opposition I think I could have settled for one or the other, but both strained credulity of the world Palmer had created, that of the advanced Homo post hominem.
Overall, generally enjoyed it a great deal until page 200, at which point I was significantly less impressed. The voice is entertaining, it's an interesting story and it generally avoids the depressing death-decay-violence we see in most apocalypse stories, focusing on self-empowerment and discovering connections. I'd recommend it, especially to younger apocalypse fans who might be more forgiving about the ending developments.
Three and a half, rounding up because of spot-on parrot characterization.
The first part of the story was published in 1981 as a novella in Analog Magazine, followed two years later by Part Two. Both, I think, had well-deserved Hugo noms, and the novel itself was nominated for a Hugo and Locus when published in 1984. Quite honestly, I think I would have loved it had I found it then or a few years after. Seriously, why on earth was I reading Piers Anthony when I could have been reading about a kick-ass girl navigating an empty world?
"Whereupon, for very first time in entire life, Candy Smith-Foster--plucky girl adventurer; most promising pre-adolescent intellect yet discovered amongst Homo post hominem population; youngest ever holder of Sixth Degree Black Belt; resourceful, unstoppable, never-say-die superkid; conquereror of unthinkable odds... Fainted."
The story wastes no time into diving into a series of world-scale catastrophes. Candy's father had been a highly-placed government consultant and doctor, and had the foresight to construct a very comprehensive bunker with just about every resource except hydrophonic gardens. Eventually, she decides to check on life outside and discovers everyone dead, as well discovering a closely-guarded secret of her neighbor and mentor.
It's an intriguing beginning, and I might have been a little bothered by the Speshul Snowflake syndrome (Candy is truly capable of everything) except she is so direct and honest about her feelings that her stiff-upper-lip self-talk and overall competence comes off as courageous.
The narrative structure is--how do I say this--interesting, and now that I know the seeds of the story were in a novella, it makes more sense as a 'hook.' Candy uses a type of shorthand to write her journals, and the 'translation' of it comes across as quite staccato, missing conjunctions and normal sentence structure. Initially, I found it annoying, but it eventually grew on me. Surprisingly, it still does a nice job conveying emotion, whether it's Candy's distress or her self-depreciating humor.
I admit, one of my favorite characters was Terry, frequently referred to as Candy's adoptive twin brother. But I'm biased; as the owner of three parrots, I thought Palmer's characterization was spot-on and hilarious. Terry is a beautiful hyacinth macaw whose "diet is anything within reach, but ideally consists of properly mixed seeds, assorted fruits, nuts, sprinkling of meat, etc. Hobbies include getting head and neck scratched (serious business, this), art of conversation, destruction of world." I did wonder if the average reader would have appreciated the little throw-away notes about Terry, which captured the psittacine love of drama and propensity for destruction.
All that said, there's some barriers here. One is the cognitive dissonance between Candy's mature voice and immature age of eleven, although that is generally acceptably explained within the confines of the story. Two, there's some parts of this that feel more than a little early 80s, particularly Candy's characterization of Terry as her "retarded baby brother." I remember that word being rather prevalent in adolescent vocabulary when I was younger, although even then it was undergoing cultural shift towards unacceptability. On the same note, the general structure of the apocalypse feels a little dispassionate Cold War kind of dynamic rather than the disseminated violence we see more often these days.
Thirdly, and perhaps most significantly, I don't know what the hell Palmer was thinking at about page 200 or so (Volume III--Part Two--Portents). The last 'volume' of the book takes a fairly significant curve in plotting and ties in opposition I think I could have settled for one or the other, but both strained credulity of the world Palmer had created, that of the advanced Homo post hominem.
Overall, generally enjoyed it a great deal until page 200, at which point I was significantly less impressed. The voice is entertaining, it's an interesting story and it generally avoids the depressing death-decay-violence we see in most apocalypse stories, focusing on self-empowerment and discovering connections. I'd recommend it, especially to younger apocalypse fans who might be more forgiving about the ending developments.
Three and a half, rounding up because of spot-on parrot characterization.
May 30, 2009
I have read this book so many times that its cover is coming off. I would to have a hardcopy version of this book. This book is part of my "Comfort Reading" shelf -- books that are like old friends and need revisiting at least once a year or whenever I'm feeling off-kilter for whatever reason.
January 20, 2021
Have you ever reread a book years after you first read it--because you remembered how much you liked the book but you don't remember why? This science fiction book was published in 1984 and I must have read it in the 90s. I remember thinking it was just a great book and, in fact, passed it on to my father to read. I got it back at some point and it's been sitting in a box with other books I've read--and, finally, I took it out to read it again. I really did not remember the plot or how it ended---! From the cover, I could recall the protagonist was a young girl and the story was set in a post-apocalyptic world.
Now, having reread it, I think it was a great story and I enjoyed reading it again. It's the story of Candidia ("Candy"), an eleven-year-old girl who is the survivor of an apocalypse. In this case, it's the Cold War of the 1980s turning hot, with hard-line Communist leaders of both Russia and China working together to destroy the USA, mainly by using a bioengineered plague. Candy is able to survive in a very well-stocked shelter constructed by her father, who works for the government. When the plague hits, Candy's father is away in Washington but she, fortunately, goes into the shelter--and survives. It helps that she is a super-genius and, when she emerges, she goes on an odyssey across a depopulated America seeking other survivors.
I liked the character of Candy the genius child. I also liked how the story is told, for the most part, by her log entries. And she traveled with a wonderful companion--Terry the hyacinth macaw. All in all, a very engaging story. However, there is a shocking murder that occurs. Somehow I had managed to forget about it and, maybe, along with the shocker, I also managed to forget the rest of the story!
Unfortunately, and I checked on this, the author seems to have written only a couple other books, including a sequel continuing the Candy saga. I'd like to find that.
Now, having reread it, I think it was a great story and I enjoyed reading it again. It's the story of Candidia ("Candy"), an eleven-year-old girl who is the survivor of an apocalypse. In this case, it's the Cold War of the 1980s turning hot, with hard-line Communist leaders of both Russia and China working together to destroy the USA, mainly by using a bioengineered plague. Candy is able to survive in a very well-stocked shelter constructed by her father, who works for the government. When the plague hits, Candy's father is away in Washington but she, fortunately, goes into the shelter--and survives. It helps that she is a super-genius and, when she emerges, she goes on an odyssey across a depopulated America seeking other survivors.
I liked the character of Candy the genius child. I also liked how the story is told, for the most part, by her log entries. And she traveled with a wonderful companion--Terry the hyacinth macaw. All in all, a very engaging story. However, there is a shocking murder that occurs. Somehow I had managed to forget about it and, maybe, along with the shocker, I also managed to forget the rest of the story!
Unfortunately, and I checked on this, the author seems to have written only a couple other books, including a sequel continuing the Candy saga. I'd like to find that.
March 22, 2007
I read this book when I was thirteen, about two years older than Candy, the plucky girl-genius protagonist. Palmer rocked the concept of an empowered wonder-girl years before Joss Whedon made them his trademark, and I was blown away by this book's intelligent, quirky, resourceful and funny main character, as well as with the uniqueness of the book's format - a ragingly hyperliterate, shorthand journal written in first person.
Major, major suspension-of-disbelief is required to survive some of the plot twists as Candy - who discovers while riding out a nuclear/biological apocalypse in her scientist dad's bomb shelter that she's one of a new breed of humans called homo-post-hominem - navigates the depopulated roads of America in a souped-up conversion van with her devoted pet macaw at her side (yeah, you get the idea), looking for fellow superbreed survivors. Along the way there are enough deus-ex-machina moments to power a hundred Haunted Mansions. Still, it's a fun ride along the same lines as some of Heinlein's quirkier novels. Think Karate Kid-meets-Podkayne From Mars-meets-Road Warrior. Or something like that.
Major, major suspension-of-disbelief is required to survive some of the plot twists as Candy - who discovers while riding out a nuclear/biological apocalypse in her scientist dad's bomb shelter that she's one of a new breed of humans called homo-post-hominem - navigates the depopulated roads of America in a souped-up conversion van with her devoted pet macaw at her side (yeah, you get the idea), looking for fellow superbreed survivors. Along the way there are enough deus-ex-machina moments to power a hundred Haunted Mansions. Still, it's a fun ride along the same lines as some of Heinlein's quirkier novels. Think Karate Kid-meets-Podkayne From Mars-meets-Road Warrior. Or something like that.
November 6, 2013
This book is nearly unreadable because of the style. I've no idea why it has this sort of rating here. It pretty much sucks. Here's a "sentence:" "Means must have farm."
Almost every sentence is like this. Some sentences, it's pronouns that are hated; other sentences, the verb gets the axe. For a genius new hominid, this little girl can't figure out grammar? Do you mind if I doubt her intelligence entirely? I may be the only one who reads this as an unreliable narrator book for this reason.
That sentence, by the way, should have said. "This (discovery) means I must move to a farm." When every sentence is like that, you have to re- and re-read to try and wiggle the meaning of out it, it's supremely irksome. I stayed irked for 75 pages, and finally I tossed the book and it's awful (non)sentences aside.
However, I am incredibly amused that because of goodreads recommending it, there are people going out and buying a used paperback copy for $55 American. rotflol. Man, there's a sucker born every minute, isn't there? Thank you interlibrary loan system.
Almost every sentence is like this. Some sentences, it's pronouns that are hated; other sentences, the verb gets the axe. For a genius new hominid, this little girl can't figure out grammar? Do you mind if I doubt her intelligence entirely? I may be the only one who reads this as an unreliable narrator book for this reason.
That sentence, by the way, should have said. "This (discovery) means I must move to a farm." When every sentence is like that, you have to re- and re-read to try and wiggle the meaning of out it, it's supremely irksome. I stayed irked for 75 pages, and finally I tossed the book and it's awful (non)sentences aside.
However, I am incredibly amused that because of goodreads recommending it, there are people going out and buying a used paperback copy for $55 American. rotflol. Man, there's a sucker born every minute, isn't there? Thank you interlibrary loan system.
June 15, 2016
Back in the late 1980s, I gave this one three stars for the original novella of that title, first published in Analog in 1981. I'd put it on the reread list, and eventually bought an ebook of the novel, a fixup with a second novella, republished with the same title. Confusing! It's a pretty good story, if implausible, and somewhat dated, but I enjoyed it.
The original novella (1981) is the stronger half. The expansion (1983), another novella, is good too. But suspension of disbelief became more of a problem. As reviewer Russ Allbery notes, “strong cables, tight fastenings, powerful winch, disbelief pulled firmly into air.” Heh.
I still had fun with this. Another reviewer calls this the best Heinlein Juvenile not by Heinlein. The USSR attacks US with a "bionuclear" weapon that kills all but 150,000 or so Americans. The survivors are a new species of Homo superior, and the implausibilities, which slid by in the joy of reading/re-reading, have come back to haunt me as I write this. The New Men are appealing, especially 11 year old Candy, a bona fide girl genius, her macaw Terry, "lifelong retarded, adopted twin brother," and her found family of other hominems. It’s a story of uber-competent children and young adults, and something of a cozy catastrophe. For me this was a 3.3 star read, worthwhile and cautiously recommended. Tech level is early 1980s, but the inspiration is definitely Heinlein, and the social setup is more like the 60s, for better or worse. My Kindle quotes might give you an idea of some of the stuff I liked (or didn't): https://www.goodreads.com/notes/19507...
Here's a recent long review by Alan Brown, that's the one to read for the whole story of the book and author. Nice work! https://reactormag.com/a-girl-and-her...
Russ Allberry's review is *very* entertaining: https://www.eyrie.org/~eagle/reviews/...
The original novella (1981) is the stronger half. The expansion (1983), another novella, is good too. But suspension of disbelief became more of a problem. As reviewer Russ Allbery notes, “strong cables, tight fastenings, powerful winch, disbelief pulled firmly into air.” Heh.
I still had fun with this. Another reviewer calls this the best Heinlein Juvenile not by Heinlein. The USSR attacks US with a "bionuclear" weapon that kills all but 150,000 or so Americans. The survivors are a new species of Homo superior, and the implausibilities, which slid by in the joy of reading/re-reading, have come back to haunt me as I write this. The New Men are appealing, especially 11 year old Candy, a bona fide girl genius, her macaw Terry, "lifelong retarded, adopted twin brother," and her found family of other hominems. It’s a story of uber-competent children and young adults, and something of a cozy catastrophe. For me this was a 3.3 star read, worthwhile and cautiously recommended. Tech level is early 1980s, but the inspiration is definitely Heinlein, and the social setup is more like the 60s, for better or worse. My Kindle quotes might give you an idea of some of the stuff I liked (or didn't): https://www.goodreads.com/notes/19507...
Here's a recent long review by Alan Brown, that's the one to read for the whole story of the book and author. Nice work! https://reactormag.com/a-girl-and-her...
Russ Allberry's review is *very* entertaining: https://www.eyrie.org/~eagle/reviews/...
Read
October 16, 2019The book is definitely worth reading, even thuogh not exactly my style. I recommended it to a friend of mine and got back only positive feedback.
March 27, 2015
I did not like this book. I was mostly annoyed throughout. What bugged me? First off, the shorthand, log-entry style of writing was hard to take. I plowed through thinking that surely the author would begin to write complete sentences at some point but I was sorely disappointed.
The whole book is a journal of Candidia “Candy” Smith-Foster, an 11 year old super-genius representative of the next step in human evolution, the homo post hominem, man who follows man. Homo post hominems are the only surviving species of mankind after homo sapiens obliterate each other with nuclear/bioweapons attacks. Cool concept but carried out in a boring and functional sort of way. The book reads like a text book on survival techniques – a text book written in Pittman shorthand. Naturally, Candy as super genius has all the answers even at age 11 and seems to be expert at everything as are any other characters who appear. The children are not only precocious but annoyingly precocious. It grates on my nerves after a while.
Unfortunately, rambling occurs. A lot.
Sorry, no, not even close to tangible. “Source eluded identification”?? Really??
I never felt any of Candy’s emotion in this book until the last 100 pages. She relates everything like a robot. There is nothing to make me feel her pain or emotions at the loss of her father or her teacher or the rest of humanity or her joy at locating any survivors. I just don’t care about her at all. Sorry, but it is a good thing homo sapiens are rare in this book because they would likely want to scratch her eyes out. I sure did. At the halfway point in the book I found myself just scanning pages because it just drags on and on. That is highly unusual behavior for me. Is the new species of mankind really going to be so clinical? This is fine for a history book which this journal is supposed to be but makes for a terrible novel.
I've read other books written in first person journaling style like The Road by Cormac McCarthy and The Martian by Andy Weir, and I was completely engaged in those stories. Cormac McCarthy was blunt and stark but lyrical, and Andy Weir, while still explaining how to solve problems of survival on Mars did not present the information like a text book or robot and the character emoted and was genuinely funny and real. We were pulling for him throughout, not wishing he would shut up about it already.
I’m not going to say that there are no redeeming qualities in Emergence, but the negatives far outweighed the positives for me. If the entire book had been more like the last 100 pages I might have rated it another star.
The whole book is a journal of Candidia “Candy” Smith-Foster, an 11 year old super-genius representative of the next step in human evolution, the homo post hominem, man who follows man. Homo post hominems are the only surviving species of mankind after homo sapiens obliterate each other with nuclear/bioweapons attacks. Cool concept but carried out in a boring and functional sort of way. The book reads like a text book on survival techniques – a text book written in Pittman shorthand. Naturally, Candy as super genius has all the answers even at age 11 and seems to be expert at everything as are any other characters who appear. The children are not only precocious but annoyingly precocious. It grates on my nerves after a while.
“Oh, Posterity,[note: addresses all but earliest journal entries to “posterity”]
please be patient. Probably most difficult entry have ever faced. Emotional control fragile as crystal, unstable as if balanced on pinpoint. Forgive rambling if occurs. Will do best, but subconscious probably try to steer me away from subject.”
Unfortunately, rambling occurs. A lot.
“Blinked away tears to gaze out over crowd in awe. And as stared, felt unfamiliar stirring: undefinable, comforting. Source eluded identification; but awareness of assemblage somehow expanding, deepening… Shared warmth, togetherness almost tangible.”
Sorry, no, not even close to tangible. “Source eluded identification”?? Really??
I never felt any of Candy’s emotion in this book until the last 100 pages. She relates everything like a robot. There is nothing to make me feel her pain or emotions at the loss of her father or her teacher or the rest of humanity or her joy at locating any survivors. I just don’t care about her at all. Sorry, but it is a good thing homo sapiens are rare in this book because they would likely want to scratch her eyes out. I sure did. At the halfway point in the book I found myself just scanning pages because it just drags on and on. That is highly unusual behavior for me. Is the new species of mankind really going to be so clinical? This is fine for a history book which this journal is supposed to be but makes for a terrible novel.
I've read other books written in first person journaling style like The Road by Cormac McCarthy and The Martian by Andy Weir, and I was completely engaged in those stories. Cormac McCarthy was blunt and stark but lyrical, and Andy Weir, while still explaining how to solve problems of survival on Mars did not present the information like a text book or robot and the character emoted and was genuinely funny and real. We were pulling for him throughout, not wishing he would shut up about it already.
I’m not going to say that there are no redeeming qualities in Emergence, but the negatives far outweighed the positives for me. If the entire book had been more like the last 100 pages I might have rated it another star.
January 9, 2008
This was another novel which I had started reading as a series of short stories in either Analog or Asimov's in the early 80's. I was first attracted to it due to the TEOTWAWKI elements, as I adore apocalypse fiction. But the unique writing style, and the delightful lead character has made this a book that I still returned to every few years. I have always thought it a real shame that Palmer never wrote more than two novels, his talent suggested that he was capable of many more great things.
July 1, 2017
Iskreno ovo jedna od onih knjiga koju je tesko oceniti, koja ima puno pluseva i minuseva tako da na kraju ovo je cisto subjektivna ocena. Ko i uvek :P
Imamo postapokalipticnu pricu koja totalno ignorise manje vise sve sto postoji u ovom zanru, hlavnog lika koja je klinka od 11 godina ali posto je manje vise suvi genije (ko rece Pera Kojot :) ) zvuci kao neko ko je daleko stariji. Prica prati njeno prezivljavanje od pocetka apokalipse pa sve do razresenja nase buducnosti i vidimo kolko je neko znacajan i kolko je pamet stvarno vazna.
Stil pisanja je ono sto moze najvise da vas odmije posto je knjiga prikazana kao njen zurnal, a posto kao genije nece da gubi vreme pisuci redvnim pismom nego koristi Pitman Shorthand zbog cega sve zvuci jako ... osakaceno posto polovina neotrebni reci manje vise fali. Meni bilo interesantno ali vidim da nekome jako smeta.
Sem toga sta reci> odlican pocetk, fina sredina ali glup kraj. Cemu potreba da se ima neki cetralizovani neprijatelj. Moglo je sasvim i bez njega ali autori ko da nekada nemogu da pisu nesto a da nema neki VELIKI konflikt ili nesto.
Semo toga sve mi je ok pa ako ocete nesto drugacije bacite pogled.
Usput slika da vidite kako izgleda pravi Pitman Shorthand:
Sto se mene tice pravi hijeroglifi :D
Imamo postapokalipticnu pricu koja totalno ignorise manje vise sve sto postoji u ovom zanru, hlavnog lika koja je klinka od 11 godina ali posto je manje vise suvi genije (ko rece Pera Kojot :) ) zvuci kao neko ko je daleko stariji. Prica prati njeno prezivljavanje od pocetka apokalipse pa sve do razresenja nase buducnosti i vidimo kolko je neko znacajan i kolko je pamet stvarno vazna.
Stil pisanja je ono sto moze najvise da vas odmije posto je knjiga prikazana kao njen zurnal, a posto kao genije nece da gubi vreme pisuci redvnim pismom nego koristi Pitman Shorthand zbog cega sve zvuci jako ... osakaceno posto polovina neotrebni reci manje vise fali. Meni bilo interesantno ali vidim da nekome jako smeta.
Sem toga sta reci> odlican pocetk, fina sredina ali glup kraj. Cemu potreba da se ima neki cetralizovani neprijatelj. Moglo je sasvim i bez njega ali autori ko da nekada nemogu da pisu nesto a da nema neki VELIKI konflikt ili nesto.
Semo toga sve mi je ok pa ako ocete nesto drugacije bacite pogled.
Usput slika da vidite kako izgleda pravi Pitman Shorthand:
Sto se mene tice pravi hijeroglifi :D
January 11, 2010
4.5 stars. Superior post-apocalyptic science fiction story with an excellent main character and well-written plot. Highly Recommended!!
Nominee: Hugo Award for Best Science Fiction Novel
Nominee: Locus Award for Best Science Fiction Novel
Nominee: Philip K. Dick Award for Best Science Fiction Novel
Nominee: Hugo Award for Best Science Fiction Novel
Nominee: Locus Award for Best Science Fiction Novel
Nominee: Philip K. Dick Award for Best Science Fiction Novel
March 12, 2017
Might have gotten better score if not for the 30 page exposition why it would be rational for a 45yo creepy dude to do the naughty with the 11yo protagonist. For the rest totally unremarkable.
April 17, 2012
Having unpacked the books we couldn't do without, I picked up one of my all-time favorites, David Palmer's EMERGENCE, to re-read it. As I've no doubt said before, re-reading old favorites is fraught with tension, because what if they don't hold up?
EMERGENCE holds up. It holds up in spades. There are some moments of unintentional amusement and cognitive dissonance, particularly regarding microfiche libraries and Russians as The Bad Guys(TM), but even if you put the book in an absolutely modern context there's an argument for the microfiche, so it was just mildly amusing.
Other than that, though, that is still a *great* story. While reading it I kept having little jolts of remembering What Happened Later--not so much Next as Later--but it was nearly like reading it again for the first time despite that. I had every bit as much emotional investment--possibly more, because I'm a big old softie these days--as I ever did reading it previously, which is pretty wonderful.
Also, Betsy Mitchell was one of the editors on it, which made me laugh out loud when I read the acknowledgements. I suspect that book must have been one of the very first places I encountered Betsy's name, thus setting me up for a lifetime of wanting to work with her. :)
EMERGENCE holds up. It holds up in spades. There are some moments of unintentional amusement and cognitive dissonance, particularly regarding microfiche libraries and Russians as The Bad Guys(TM), but even if you put the book in an absolutely modern context there's an argument for the microfiche, so it was just mildly amusing.
Other than that, though, that is still a *great* story. While reading it I kept having little jolts of remembering What Happened Later--not so much Next as Later--but it was nearly like reading it again for the first time despite that. I had every bit as much emotional investment--possibly more, because I'm a big old softie these days--as I ever did reading it previously, which is pretty wonderful.
Also, Betsy Mitchell was one of the editors on it, which made me laugh out loud when I read the acknowledgements. I suspect that book must have been one of the very first places I encountered Betsy's name, thus setting me up for a lifetime of wanting to work with her. :)
July 26, 2008
Maybe an odd choice as a comfort read, but I've loved this book since I was about ten years old and swiped it off my dad's shelves of science fiction when I desperately needed something new to read. Something about the combination of apocalyptic landscape, brilliant and funny eleven-year-old girl, and sciency stuff (even though, looking back, the science is horrible and also now incredibly dated) just hit all the right notes for me then, and even now I pull it off the shelf and reread it every once in a while when nothing else suits. At this point the cover's fallen off and several pages have been taped back together multiple times, but unfortunately the book's out of print so I've had trouble finding a better copy. Still, if you can find it somewhere, it might be worth a read!
March 4, 2012
Years and years ago (when I was in my early teens), David gave me a copy of this and a Heinlein off of his own bookshelf...I'm pretty sure my sci-fi romance started out because of him.
A fun story, with a smart, quirky girl at the core? Who wouldn't love it. It's one I've come back to over and over again. I'm fortunate to have read more of his work than most, and I can't recommend this one quite highly enough. I had to replace my copy a few years ago (paperbacks just don't stand up to heavy reading for over a decade). I'd spent several years (pre-Amazon) hunting for it locally and was thrilled to find that now I could find it with the push of an enter button!
A fun story, with a smart, quirky girl at the core? Who wouldn't love it. It's one I've come back to over and over again. I'm fortunate to have read more of his work than most, and I can't recommend this one quite highly enough. I had to replace my copy a few years ago (paperbacks just don't stand up to heavy reading for over a decade). I'd spent several years (pre-Amazon) hunting for it locally and was thrilled to find that now I could find it with the push of an enter button!
March 1, 2015
Gripping, touching, unpredictable. When it's all been done before, this is how you do post-apocalyptic fiction. Add a bird, skip (most of) the stranger danger, and blast off into MFing space!
January 23, 2018
Labs! Sākumā grūti pierast pie tā saucamā "short handed" rakstības stila, jo it kā lasam dienasgrāmatu, ko sarakstījis ir 11 gadīgs ģēnijs. Bet pēc laika pierod un ir diezgan interesanta grāmata. Visumā ir pēcapokaliptiskā tēma un uz beigām arī nedaudz velk uz kosmosa SciFi sajūtām.
P.S.: Starp citu "atpalikušais brālis dvīnis" ir galvenās varones papagailis ;) tas tā lai būtu saprotams jau no paša sākuma (man pieleca tikai pēc laba laika)
P.S.: Starp citu "atpalikušais brālis dvīnis" ir galvenās varones papagailis ;) tas tā lai būtu saprotams jau no paša sākuma (man pieleca tikai pēc laba laika)
November 7, 2012
This book is really hard to find, and if you do, it's probably going to be expensive. But- you'll never read anything like it. It's one of my favorite novels of any genre, and I've read lots (and lots) of post-apocalyptic titles. If you are lucky enough to find this, read it. It's just plain fun as well as impossible to put down, so save it for a lonely weekend. Absolutely do not plan to read it out loud to anyone else, because it was written by a court reporter and reads like it was.
It was serialized as a novella in "Analog" magazine and there was such a clamor that he lengthened it into a novel by adding an implausable ending, still very entertaining. I'm not sure that it improved the story, however, it did give us more time with the protagonists, who we love despite the story going way, way beyond plausible coincidence. If you get the chance to read this fun piece of "almost everybody else is dead" fiction and can actually find this one, it's well worth your time.
It was serialized as a novella in "Analog" magazine and there was such a clamor that he lengthened it into a novel by adding an implausable ending, still very entertaining. I'm not sure that it improved the story, however, it did give us more time with the protagonists, who we love despite the story going way, way beyond plausible coincidence. If you get the chance to read this fun piece of "almost everybody else is dead" fiction and can actually find this one, it's well worth your time.
October 7, 2013
Unreadable..... The author uses a stream of consciousness writing style that annoyed me from the first second. Which is too bad because I have heard this is a good book. I can't be the only one who feels this way.
August 14, 2018
Storyline: 2/5
Characters: 4/5
Writing Style: 5/5
World: 2/5
Consistency. A trait far too often absent from science fiction texts but which is a necessary requisite for any excellent story. Palmer has consistency. An abundance of it. He tries something risky with the writing, giving us a clipped syntax that was rough on even my poorly-trained grammatical senses, but he stays with it. Long after the reader thinks, "this is not really going to keep going this way, is it?" Palmer is consistent. Then there's a point that you thank him for doing so. Somewhere along the way you got over the hump, you managed to settle in and accept the new grammar, reading it as if a linguistic savant. It is not only the writing that is consistent though, it is the character. The character is as unfamiliar as the syntax, but Palmer makes her real. The author wants to do some extraordinary things with her, so Palmer spends a lot of effort working through plot holes. He's got the right backstories, the needed scientific explanations, the appropriate excuses for paths not taken. Again, consistency. One could easily lose their sense of humor in arranging so many details, but Palmer manages to include some wit and comedy. He also tosses in some other character moments, changing up the pace and tone of the whole thing, making sure you appreciate the foundations of what he's built. Always thinking ahead, that David R. Palmer, taking away most of the criticisms one could launch at the book. I, however, am not an easily deterred critic.
There were just a few elements that kept this from going on my "greatest science fiction in the history of the world" shelf. First, I was so dazzled by the care in which the journal entries and our main character were put together, that I expected that same care in every other element of the novel. And it just wasn't there. A brilliantly conceived writing style and astounding main character deserved an equally exotic storyline. That storyline was nothing more than acceptable, however. Palmer wasn't especially good at generating tension or expectations. That might have been mitigated with more attention to the world, but the worldbuilding did little more than what was necessary for the character-building. Palmer was so narrowly focused on the writing and the character, so devoted to working out any plotholes that he tended to ignore anything not central to those elements. Thus the world, which was easily susceptible to the creativity Palmer had already exhibited, was barely touched on or experienced. The second portion that kept this from being one of my favorites was Palmer's insistence on exploring the sexual outlook of an 11-year old girl. It was a little disturbing that here, too, he was thorough with the context and justifications, showing the reader why this was not only relevant but also fully predictable and understandable. Having made the point early on, Palmer could have left it there, but he returned to it again and again. This was that consistency at work again. Rather than dealing with the issue through hints and allusions, taking on additional depth and breadth, Palmer sticks with the core attributes, of which this was one. This would have been awkward even had it been a female author; recalling that it was someone named David R. Palmer made it just a little creepy.
This was without a doubt an exceptional book. I would have chosen it over Neuromancer for the 1985 Hugo Award for novels. It wouldn't have required much more to become one of my favorites, and it is with some disappointment that I see that he did not go from this first novel to any notable subsequent ones.
Characters: 4/5
Writing Style: 5/5
World: 2/5
Consistency. A trait far too often absent from science fiction texts but which is a necessary requisite for any excellent story. Palmer has consistency. An abundance of it. He tries something risky with the writing, giving us a clipped syntax that was rough on even my poorly-trained grammatical senses, but he stays with it. Long after the reader thinks, "this is not really going to keep going this way, is it?" Palmer is consistent. Then there's a point that you thank him for doing so. Somewhere along the way you got over the hump, you managed to settle in and accept the new grammar, reading it as if a linguistic savant. It is not only the writing that is consistent though, it is the character. The character is as unfamiliar as the syntax, but Palmer makes her real. The author wants to do some extraordinary things with her, so Palmer spends a lot of effort working through plot holes. He's got the right backstories, the needed scientific explanations, the appropriate excuses for paths not taken. Again, consistency. One could easily lose their sense of humor in arranging so many details, but Palmer manages to include some wit and comedy. He also tosses in some other character moments, changing up the pace and tone of the whole thing, making sure you appreciate the foundations of what he's built. Always thinking ahead, that David R. Palmer, taking away most of the criticisms one could launch at the book. I, however, am not an easily deterred critic.
There were just a few elements that kept this from going on my "greatest science fiction in the history of the world" shelf. First, I was so dazzled by the care in which the journal entries and our main character were put together, that I expected that same care in every other element of the novel. And it just wasn't there. A brilliantly conceived writing style and astounding main character deserved an equally exotic storyline. That storyline was nothing more than acceptable, however. Palmer wasn't especially good at generating tension or expectations. That might have been mitigated with more attention to the world, but the worldbuilding did little more than what was necessary for the character-building. Palmer was so narrowly focused on the writing and the character, so devoted to working out any plotholes that he tended to ignore anything not central to those elements. Thus the world, which was easily susceptible to the creativity Palmer had already exhibited, was barely touched on or experienced. The second portion that kept this from being one of my favorites was Palmer's insistence on exploring the sexual outlook of an 11-year old girl. It was a little disturbing that here, too, he was thorough with the context and justifications, showing the reader why this was not only relevant but also fully predictable and understandable. Having made the point early on, Palmer could have left it there, but he returned to it again and again. This was that consistency at work again. Rather than dealing with the issue through hints and allusions, taking on additional depth and breadth, Palmer sticks with the core attributes, of which this was one. This would have been awkward even had it been a female author; recalling that it was someone named David R. Palmer made it just a little creepy.
This was without a doubt an exceptional book. I would have chosen it over Neuromancer for the 1985 Hugo Award for novels. It wouldn't have required much more to become one of my favorites, and it is with some disappointment that I see that he did not go from this first novel to any notable subsequent ones.
January 19, 2026
I'm not easily offended, but I had to stop reading about halfway through because of the attitudes toward sexuality - considering that the protagonist was an 11-year-old girl. To say this story was not for me is an understatement.
January 20, 2014
The writing style is super irritating. I rarely quit a book once I've started but I'm done with this one. So annoying. I really hate it. Go ahead, read a couple pages, you'll see what I mean.
October 18, 2026
Palmer writes like a man who has listened to too many people talk under oath and decided English should be put on a diet. You will either love that immediately or start chewing the furniture by page forty.
Emergence is what happens when a Florida court reporter, an Analog door that opened on the first knock, and one extremely chatty eleven-year-old decide the human race can take a seat.
The only question now is: did this award-winning novel survive the slab?
PLOT
Candidia Maria Smith-Foster — aka Candy — is eleven, orphaned twice, karate-certified, speed-reading her way through a small-town conspiracy of “normal upbringing,” and sitting in Daddy’s absurdly overbuilt bedrock shelter when the world finishes its international quick-draw. Radiation plus designer plague, with mankind eliminated.
Left behind: one girl, one hyacinth macaw who thinks he is her twin, a library that could shame a university, and a journal she is writing in Pitman shorthand because longhand is for people with spare hours and inferior cortexes.
Then she's got to go outside.
The rest is a road novel wearing a lab coat: empty highways, other survivors who are not quite Homo sapiens, a growing suspicion the apocalypse kept a guest list. The mission keeps swelling until the book is side-eyeing the Space Shuttle Operator’s Manual like the thing owes back rent. Volumes pile up (Emergence, Seeking, Quest, Destiny) until the table of contents looks like lasagna, which happens when magazine serials get asked to become a novel and refuse to stop adding rooms.
Competence porn is on the menu. Found-family glue too. A rhinoceros treats St. Louis as a commute and by then you can feel the job title shifting from “last girl on Earth” toward “first girl of whatever comes next.”
CHARACTERS
Candy is the whole instrument. Precocious without being precious, lonely without begging, funny in that specific way of a kid who has read the psychology textbook and is now using it against herself.
Terry D. Foster, is a hyacinth macaw, professional peanut-butter criminal, emotional support sibling, and the only character who never has to justify his résumé. If you don't like the bird, we can't be friends. He is the book’s pulse and its punchline. I love him to pieces.
Soo Kim McDivott is Teacher, tenth-degree everything, and the rare mentor who earns the pedestal before the plot needs him.
Adam arrives later as the other superkid: pun factory, ultralight pilot, thirteen going on “the species must continue.” He is charming on the page and occasionally a walking consent seminar the novel is not quite equipped to teach.
Everyone else orbits Candy’s diary. That’s the design. That’s also the ceiling.
THE PROSE, THE SHOW, THE STUNT
Palmer doesn't write sentences so much as he files telegrams from a bunker. Subjects vanish. Articles desert. Verbs report for duty and refuse overtime.
“English 60 percent flab, null symbols, waste.”
After Candy announces the diet plan for the language, she proves it on the page:
“Pitman fits entire life story on line and a half.”
That is Candy explaining her own instrument. Shorthand is not flavor but how she thinks a sentence should behave: crush the air out, keep the fact, move.
Then the voice turns the knife into a joke without changing register. Crawling through a wreck that is about to become a gasoline lake, she files:
“both dog meat. (Well done.)”
The parenthetical is the whole personality. Horror first. Punch line before the smoke clears. Palmer doesn't switch to a “funny font.” He stays inside the telegram and lets the joke arrive as a correction, the way a smart kid talks when she's trying not to scream.
Call it a threat. He keeps it. The journal voice shows Candy’s mind by starving the line. Fear arrives as inventory: she itemizes the bells, the red lights, Daddy’s recorded countdown. Emptiness arrives the same way, as tools she can't use and books she rations because she is a speedreader, and “breach discipline, well runs dry in matter of days.”
That's the whole trick. Personality as compression algorithm. Action scenes stay in the same clipped register, so the jokes and the dread share a pulse.
It’s show-don’t-tell by subtraction. It's also a dare. Can you stand two hundred pages of a narrator who thinks conjunctions are a moral failing? Some days the dare is delicious. Some days it's a metronome taped to your temple.
SAVAGE BUT FAIR, NO MARY SUE
Fair first, because I am feeling generous and also because the first third slaps. The shelter sequence is tight, mean, funny, and emotionally honest about a kid who loved her father and is now writing a suicide protocol for a parrot. That is not cheap. Palmer did the homework and you can feel the court reporter’s ear for how people actually stall when they are terrified.
Supervillain notes. The voice that makes Candy vivid may also make her “inescapable” at times. After a while the missing pronouns may stop being character and start being brand, to some readers. “Tiresome being genius sometimes” is cute once. By the time she is assembling aircraft and lecturing adolescent boys about celibacy, the cuteness has unionized.
And we should talk about the age problem like adults in a parking lot. Candy is eleven. The book puts her in conversations about rebuilding the population, has a thirteen-year-old boy announce that “the heart of it, under these circumstances, is sex,” and then asks you to treat it as plucky competence. It has a fourty-something grown man unashamedly put a deal on the table that he will gladly join her and Adam in her search for others like them if she's willing to sleep with him:
“Now, I would like to join you and help. However …” Rollo paused, choosing words with care; “I cannot and will not endure your company on a celibate basis if, after speculum examination, it is my professional opinion that you are physically capable of accepting me as a lover.”
Ick!
Candy’s refusal is written clearly and she is not eroticized in a greasy way. Still: the premise keeps handing an eleven-year-old the keys to every adult crisis on the continent, then a doomsday gadget whose access hatch might as well be engraved CANDY-SIZED.
She was always supposed to be extraordinary, that contract is on page one. Extraordinary remains a different sport from “this chapter needs a pilot, a mechanic, plus an orbital errand, and look, the basement already stocked them.” In-world, almost all of it can be justified. Dramatically, each extra miracle marks down the last one. Once the heroine can handle nearly every problem in the building, you stop worrying. Adventure only tastes like a real meal when you believe the hero might lose. That little knot in the gut is the salt. It keeps the page from going sweet. Once the book keeps proving she can fly the plane, fix the engine, solve the orbital problem, and inherit the planet because the species upgrade said so, the knot goes away. You already know the answer. The next set piece is still loud, it just has no bite. I'm not inferring Candy should be “ordinary” but even “extraordinary” still has to sweat. When she doesn't, the adventure stops being food and starts being dessert that never ends.
That's not to say Candy is a Mary Sue. A Mary Sue is a wish-fulfillment problem. Candy is a stakes problem. A Mary Sue is a character the story is in love with. Candy is not that. She is lonely. She is funny in a mean, precise way. She talks to Posterity like the future might disappoint her. She loves a bird she might have to kill. The bunker sequence lets her be scared, small, and stuck. The premise says she is extraordinary, and the early pages actually show the cost of that. You are not being asked to adore her. You are being asked to sit inside her head. But later on, the novel keeps giving her the next skill the plot needs. Mechanic. Pilot. Orbital problem-solver. The world starts fitting her instead of resisting her. That is competence inflation. You stop worrying because the answer is already “Candy can.” Not that she is flawless but rather the story stops making her pay.
The middle-to-end of the book presents more survivors, more factions, more “and then we learned to fly, and then the zoo was loose, and then orbit.” Fun? Often. Inevitable? Not even a little. The book keeps solving problems by making Candy more special, which can be the opposite of drama even when the specialness is charming.
Also, the “good humans who survived the flu and therefore deserve the planet” thing has aged like milk left on a radiator, in my opinion. Palmer is playing in the same sandbox as a lot of Campbellian wish-fulfillment. If you can swallow a replacement species that is smarter, nicer, faster, and conveniently immune, you will have a blast. If you hear the eugenics dog-whistle under the adventure music, you will start counting how many times the novel congratulates itself for Candy’s wiring. The clearest line is the one that names her and then writes the ending in advance, from the letter Candy finds in Teacher's studio:
After much reflection we named this new species Homo post hominem, meaning “Man Who Follows Man”; for it would appear that the mutation is evolutionary in character, and that, given time and assuming it breeds true … it will supplant Homo sapiens entirely.
That is Destiny with the capital already painted on. The book doesn't treat the upgrade as a rumor or a risk, it treats replacement as the evolutionary schedule. Candy’s reaction is pure telegram: “Very nice; no fanfare, just matter-of-fact statement.” The future has already been filed.
None of that erases the bird, however. Or the first night the shelter seals, and the morning a child understands the radio voices have quit, then still puts out breakfast.
CONCLUSIONS
Emergence is a bunker diary that grows a road trip, then a found family, then a space opera, and only sometimes remembers to pack a plot that isn’t “Candy can do that too.” The author wrote one unforgettable narrator and then asked her to carry the entire future on a sixth-degree black belt and a macaw. The prose is a stunt that works for some but not for others. The research is real. The sentiment is sticky. The last act is a Saturday-morning cartoon wearing a NASA lanyard.
Final rating: 5 cookies + supervillain notes.
Read it for Candy talking to Posterity like the future is a slightly disappointing pen pal. Read it for Terry, who remains the most honest character in the building. Skim it when the telegram style starts filing the same motion for the fourteenth time.
When the heroine can do almost everything, some readers may still enjoy how the “Plucky Girl Savior Of Our People” solves the next scheduled crisis, while others may stop worrying—and worry is what makes adventure taste like food instead of frosting.
The book also starts believing it is Destiny with a capital D in a very Campbellian sort of fashion. The last stretch piles on convenient miracles. Fun. Loud. Not all necessary.
Awards may love nerve and novelty. Readers have to live with the last hundred pages too.
Emergence is what happens when a Florida court reporter, an Analog door that opened on the first knock, and one extremely chatty eleven-year-old decide the human race can take a seat.
The only question now is: did this award-winning novel survive the slab?
PLOT
Candidia Maria Smith-Foster — aka Candy — is eleven, orphaned twice, karate-certified, speed-reading her way through a small-town conspiracy of “normal upbringing,” and sitting in Daddy’s absurdly overbuilt bedrock shelter when the world finishes its international quick-draw. Radiation plus designer plague, with mankind eliminated.
Left behind: one girl, one hyacinth macaw who thinks he is her twin, a library that could shame a university, and a journal she is writing in Pitman shorthand because longhand is for people with spare hours and inferior cortexes.
Then she's got to go outside.
The rest is a road novel wearing a lab coat: empty highways, other survivors who are not quite Homo sapiens, a growing suspicion the apocalypse kept a guest list. The mission keeps swelling until the book is side-eyeing the Space Shuttle Operator’s Manual like the thing owes back rent. Volumes pile up (Emergence, Seeking, Quest, Destiny) until the table of contents looks like lasagna, which happens when magazine serials get asked to become a novel and refuse to stop adding rooms.
Competence porn is on the menu. Found-family glue too. A rhinoceros treats St. Louis as a commute and by then you can feel the job title shifting from “last girl on Earth” toward “first girl of whatever comes next.”
CHARACTERS
Candy is the whole instrument. Precocious without being precious, lonely without begging, funny in that specific way of a kid who has read the psychology textbook and is now using it against herself.
Terry D. Foster, is a hyacinth macaw, professional peanut-butter criminal, emotional support sibling, and the only character who never has to justify his résumé. If you don't like the bird, we can't be friends. He is the book’s pulse and its punchline. I love him to pieces.
Soo Kim McDivott is Teacher, tenth-degree everything, and the rare mentor who earns the pedestal before the plot needs him.
Adam arrives later as the other superkid: pun factory, ultralight pilot, thirteen going on “the species must continue.” He is charming on the page and occasionally a walking consent seminar the novel is not quite equipped to teach.
Everyone else orbits Candy’s diary. That’s the design. That’s also the ceiling.
THE PROSE, THE SHOW, THE STUNT
Palmer doesn't write sentences so much as he files telegrams from a bunker. Subjects vanish. Articles desert. Verbs report for duty and refuse overtime.
“English 60 percent flab, null symbols, waste.”
After Candy announces the diet plan for the language, she proves it on the page:
“Pitman fits entire life story on line and a half.”
That is Candy explaining her own instrument. Shorthand is not flavor but how she thinks a sentence should behave: crush the air out, keep the fact, move.
Then the voice turns the knife into a joke without changing register. Crawling through a wreck that is about to become a gasoline lake, she files:
“both dog meat. (Well done.)”
The parenthetical is the whole personality. Horror first. Punch line before the smoke clears. Palmer doesn't switch to a “funny font.” He stays inside the telegram and lets the joke arrive as a correction, the way a smart kid talks when she's trying not to scream.
Call it a threat. He keeps it. The journal voice shows Candy’s mind by starving the line. Fear arrives as inventory: she itemizes the bells, the red lights, Daddy’s recorded countdown. Emptiness arrives the same way, as tools she can't use and books she rations because she is a speedreader, and “breach discipline, well runs dry in matter of days.”
That's the whole trick. Personality as compression algorithm. Action scenes stay in the same clipped register, so the jokes and the dread share a pulse.
It’s show-don’t-tell by subtraction. It's also a dare. Can you stand two hundred pages of a narrator who thinks conjunctions are a moral failing? Some days the dare is delicious. Some days it's a metronome taped to your temple.
SAVAGE BUT FAIR, NO MARY SUE
Fair first, because I am feeling generous and also because the first third slaps. The shelter sequence is tight, mean, funny, and emotionally honest about a kid who loved her father and is now writing a suicide protocol for a parrot. That is not cheap. Palmer did the homework and you can feel the court reporter’s ear for how people actually stall when they are terrified.
Supervillain notes. The voice that makes Candy vivid may also make her “inescapable” at times. After a while the missing pronouns may stop being character and start being brand, to some readers. “Tiresome being genius sometimes” is cute once. By the time she is assembling aircraft and lecturing adolescent boys about celibacy, the cuteness has unionized.
And we should talk about the age problem like adults in a parking lot. Candy is eleven. The book puts her in conversations about rebuilding the population, has a thirteen-year-old boy announce that “the heart of it, under these circumstances, is sex,” and then asks you to treat it as plucky competence. It has a fourty-something grown man unashamedly put a deal on the table that he will gladly join her and Adam in her search for others like them if she's willing to sleep with him:
“Now, I would like to join you and help. However …” Rollo paused, choosing words with care; “I cannot and will not endure your company on a celibate basis if, after speculum examination, it is my professional opinion that you are physically capable of accepting me as a lover.”
Ick!
Candy’s refusal is written clearly and she is not eroticized in a greasy way. Still: the premise keeps handing an eleven-year-old the keys to every adult crisis on the continent, then a doomsday gadget whose access hatch might as well be engraved CANDY-SIZED.
She was always supposed to be extraordinary, that contract is on page one. Extraordinary remains a different sport from “this chapter needs a pilot, a mechanic, plus an orbital errand, and look, the basement already stocked them.” In-world, almost all of it can be justified. Dramatically, each extra miracle marks down the last one. Once the heroine can handle nearly every problem in the building, you stop worrying. Adventure only tastes like a real meal when you believe the hero might lose. That little knot in the gut is the salt. It keeps the page from going sweet. Once the book keeps proving she can fly the plane, fix the engine, solve the orbital problem, and inherit the planet because the species upgrade said so, the knot goes away. You already know the answer. The next set piece is still loud, it just has no bite. I'm not inferring Candy should be “ordinary” but even “extraordinary” still has to sweat. When she doesn't, the adventure stops being food and starts being dessert that never ends.
That's not to say Candy is a Mary Sue. A Mary Sue is a wish-fulfillment problem. Candy is a stakes problem. A Mary Sue is a character the story is in love with. Candy is not that. She is lonely. She is funny in a mean, precise way. She talks to Posterity like the future might disappoint her. She loves a bird she might have to kill. The bunker sequence lets her be scared, small, and stuck. The premise says she is extraordinary, and the early pages actually show the cost of that. You are not being asked to adore her. You are being asked to sit inside her head. But later on, the novel keeps giving her the next skill the plot needs. Mechanic. Pilot. Orbital problem-solver. The world starts fitting her instead of resisting her. That is competence inflation. You stop worrying because the answer is already “Candy can.” Not that she is flawless but rather the story stops making her pay.
The middle-to-end of the book presents more survivors, more factions, more “and then we learned to fly, and then the zoo was loose, and then orbit.” Fun? Often. Inevitable? Not even a little. The book keeps solving problems by making Candy more special, which can be the opposite of drama even when the specialness is charming.
Also, the “good humans who survived the flu and therefore deserve the planet” thing has aged like milk left on a radiator, in my opinion. Palmer is playing in the same sandbox as a lot of Campbellian wish-fulfillment. If you can swallow a replacement species that is smarter, nicer, faster, and conveniently immune, you will have a blast. If you hear the eugenics dog-whistle under the adventure music, you will start counting how many times the novel congratulates itself for Candy’s wiring. The clearest line is the one that names her and then writes the ending in advance, from the letter Candy finds in Teacher's studio:
After much reflection we named this new species Homo post hominem, meaning “Man Who Follows Man”; for it would appear that the mutation is evolutionary in character, and that, given time and assuming it breeds true … it will supplant Homo sapiens entirely.
That is Destiny with the capital already painted on. The book doesn't treat the upgrade as a rumor or a risk, it treats replacement as the evolutionary schedule. Candy’s reaction is pure telegram: “Very nice; no fanfare, just matter-of-fact statement.” The future has already been filed.
None of that erases the bird, however. Or the first night the shelter seals, and the morning a child understands the radio voices have quit, then still puts out breakfast.
CONCLUSIONS
Emergence is a bunker diary that grows a road trip, then a found family, then a space opera, and only sometimes remembers to pack a plot that isn’t “Candy can do that too.” The author wrote one unforgettable narrator and then asked her to carry the entire future on a sixth-degree black belt and a macaw. The prose is a stunt that works for some but not for others. The research is real. The sentiment is sticky. The last act is a Saturday-morning cartoon wearing a NASA lanyard.
Final rating: 5 cookies + supervillain notes.
Read it for Candy talking to Posterity like the future is a slightly disappointing pen pal. Read it for Terry, who remains the most honest character in the building. Skim it when the telegram style starts filing the same motion for the fourteenth time.
When the heroine can do almost everything, some readers may still enjoy how the “Plucky Girl Savior Of Our People” solves the next scheduled crisis, while others may stop worrying—and worry is what makes adventure taste like food instead of frosting.
The book also starts believing it is Destiny with a capital D in a very Campbellian sort of fashion. The last stretch piles on convenient miracles. Fun. Loud. Not all necessary.
Awards may love nerve and novelty. Readers have to live with the last hundred pages too.
February 6, 2019
3.5 Stars
August 2, 2019
I found this book extremely frustrating. It's rare that I run across a book that I find so interesting on one hand and so annoying on the other.
First, the writing style. The shorthand, diary format was appealing in that it lent itself to speed-reading, which I generally avoid unless I need to cram a lot of information quickly and am willing to expend the energy and concentration necessary. I found that I almost had to speed-read this book to enjoy it. Nevertheless, the not-uncommon clunky sentence or phrase had me re-reading to make sure I was parsing the author's meaning correctly. Although the style was good for general description and narration, it was almost universally horrible for action scenes. The only two that were passable were when she took down Rollo and during the final descent.
I was somewhat mystified by the occasional word correction / cross-out that showed up on my kindle. Presumably, they were there to lend verisimilitude to the diary format, but they were infrequent and random enough that I didn't gain anything by them.
Second, the protagonist. We've got a genius among geniuses put in an extraordinary situation and being expected to fix things. Weaknesses: youth, inexperience, and ideas picked up from her childhood. Youth is fine. It's a trope we see often but has been better executed by skilled YA authors (e.g. Ender's Game, Ocean at the End of the Lane, Dianna Wynn Jones). As best as I can tell, instead of giving Candy aspects of actual childhood (lack of understanding, knowledge, not knowing what one doesn't know), he saddled her with a streak of hubris a mile wide that undermined what I would have expected from her given her genius, general sociability, and wide reading. Then, he sets her up with relationship expectations out of the pre-80s (because everyone should plan on manipulating their oblivious, fragile egoed, male romantic partners into getting what they want out of the relationship). Her ideas about gender roles were period-appropriate, but couldn't he have found something else to talk about?
Finally, the plot points were predictable. It was fun seeing Candy learn from her peers (e.g. the car on rails). It was not fun seeing her miss all of Rollo's cues, the entirety of the hominem's ignoring their gut-feeling about Kyril, or the amount of angsting it took Candy to find her method of descent at the conclusion.
Palmer got a lot of the novel almost right. The characters were entertaining, the pacing was good, and the premise was interesting if not exactly believable. I won't read a sequel, but I don't exactly regret reading this one.
First, the writing style. The shorthand, diary format was appealing in that it lent itself to speed-reading, which I generally avoid unless I need to cram a lot of information quickly and am willing to expend the energy and concentration necessary. I found that I almost had to speed-read this book to enjoy it. Nevertheless, the not-uncommon clunky sentence or phrase had me re-reading to make sure I was parsing the author's meaning correctly. Although the style was good for general description and narration, it was almost universally horrible for action scenes. The only two that were passable were when she took down Rollo and during the final descent.
I was somewhat mystified by the occasional word correction / cross-out that showed up on my kindle. Presumably, they were there to lend verisimilitude to the diary format, but they were infrequent and random enough that I didn't gain anything by them.
Second, the protagonist. We've got a genius among geniuses put in an extraordinary situation and being expected to fix things. Weaknesses: youth, inexperience, and ideas picked up from her childhood. Youth is fine. It's a trope we see often but has been better executed by skilled YA authors (e.g. Ender's Game, Ocean at the End of the Lane, Dianna Wynn Jones). As best as I can tell, instead of giving Candy aspects of actual childhood (lack of understanding, knowledge, not knowing what one doesn't know), he saddled her with a streak of hubris a mile wide that undermined what I would have expected from her given her genius, general sociability, and wide reading. Then, he sets her up with relationship expectations out of the pre-80s (because everyone should plan on manipulating their oblivious, fragile egoed, male romantic partners into getting what they want out of the relationship). Her ideas about gender roles were period-appropriate, but couldn't he have found something else to talk about?
Finally, the plot points were predictable. It was fun seeing Candy learn from her peers (e.g. the car on rails). It was not fun seeing her miss all of Rollo's cues, the entirety of the hominem's ignoring their gut-feeling about Kyril, or the amount of angsting it took Candy to find her method of descent at the conclusion.
Palmer got a lot of the novel almost right. The characters were entertaining, the pacing was good, and the premise was interesting if not exactly believable. I won't read a sequel, but I don't exactly regret reading this one.
April 7, 2015
Excellent.
Candy Foster-Smith is narrating to us in a very clipped manner. The use of some metaphors made me wonder at the incongruity until she tells us that she's saving time and space in this journal by cutting out unnecessary words and writing it in Pitman shorthand. Candy is an eleven year old girl being raised by Dr. Foster after her parents died when she was very young. Mrs. Foster died when she was she was five. At nine years old Soo Kim McDivott moved in next door. He started teaching karate and Candy became his star pupil, she thereafter referring to him as Teacher.
Candy is a genius, but her father is trying to give her a normal life. When he goes to Washington Candy takes the opportunity to sneak into the bomb shelter and start reading all the materials that are there, which seem to be everything. While she is just deciding what to read first an alarm sounds. The war has started. She finds out that a biological weapon has been released and it won't be safe to come out for a couple of months. This is when she starts her journal for posterity. She finds it therapeutic. I haven't mentioned Terry yet. Candy refers to the macaw as twin, bird-brained brother and more.
Candy after the waiting period plus safety margin decides it's time to leave the shelter. Making forays into town, decides to get a farm up and running. Then goes into Teacher's house and finds a note. She is Homo Post Hominem. There are probably 150,000 alive, divided into groups which he calls AA and AB. The AA's are h. post hominems that have been brought up with directed education, etc. AB have been brought up as normal children. Teacher gives Candy a list of AA addresses and she sets off to find them.
I had a little trouble believing that the electrical grid and phone system would remain active for months with no supervision and on the other hand almost all bridges were down or impassible, but it's his world and those were kind of minor. The story was great, the characters likeable and pretty humorous. The climax was very exciting, between lack of sleep, the sun and the story I had tears streaming out of my eyes.
Candy Foster-Smith is narrating to us in a very clipped manner. The use of some metaphors made me wonder at the incongruity until she tells us that she's saving time and space in this journal by cutting out unnecessary words and writing it in Pitman shorthand. Candy is an eleven year old girl being raised by Dr. Foster after her parents died when she was very young. Mrs. Foster died when she was she was five. At nine years old Soo Kim McDivott moved in next door. He started teaching karate and Candy became his star pupil, she thereafter referring to him as Teacher.
Candy is a genius, but her father is trying to give her a normal life. When he goes to Washington Candy takes the opportunity to sneak into the bomb shelter and start reading all the materials that are there, which seem to be everything. While she is just deciding what to read first an alarm sounds. The war has started. She finds out that a biological weapon has been released and it won't be safe to come out for a couple of months. This is when she starts her journal for posterity. She finds it therapeutic. I haven't mentioned Terry yet. Candy refers to the macaw as twin, bird-brained brother and more.
Candy after the waiting period plus safety margin decides it's time to leave the shelter. Making forays into town, decides to get a farm up and running. Then goes into Teacher's house and finds a note. She is Homo Post Hominem. There are probably 150,000 alive, divided into groups which he calls AA and AB. The AA's are h. post hominems that have been brought up with directed education, etc. AB have been brought up as normal children. Teacher gives Candy a list of AA addresses and she sets off to find them.
I had a little trouble believing that the electrical grid and phone system would remain active for months with no supervision and on the other hand almost all bridges were down or impassible, but it's his world and those were kind of minor. The story was great, the characters likeable and pretty humorous. The climax was very exciting, between lack of sleep, the sun and the story I had tears streaming out of my eyes.
November 30, 2014
Fairly interesting and creative (certainly original at the time written), although certainly not for anyone looking for excellent literaty prose, as the "shorthand" style of writing isn't that. No more than 4 stars through (maybe 3.5, really) because of the extreme unrealism of the final plot twist(s). Am curious to try to find/download the sequel story though.
August 9, 2014
I had to abandon it. The gimmick of having the book written in what amounts to translated shorthand is novel and entertaining, but completely alienates you from the narrator - who, almost 100 pages in, was still the only character. I could not engage with this book at all.
December 20, 2021
I would give this 4 stars, except the ending was suuuper cheesy. I dig post-apocalyptic scenarios so the majority of the book was pretty enjoyable. There was a lot of suspension of disbelief - I mean the main character is an 11 year old super-human genius who can kill grown men with her awesome karate skills. Still the setting was cool and the story moved along pretty fast, so I was happy. Until the end. Then barf.
July 3, 2016
REREAD #2: 21 June 2019 - 2 July 2019 (9/10)
This has just been republished as an ebook, which was perfect for my planned reread in 2019. I loved all over again, again. It would be interesting to compare the text now with my friend's original paperback to see what, if anything, has been updated. But really, I just enjoyed the story. I'd forgotten some bits and remembered others, if not that this was the book they were in. Overall, it was a very satisfying reread.
REREAD #1: 8 July 2008 - 20 July 2008 (10/10)
This post-apocalyptic tale was published in 1985. Sadly, it is now out of print and both hard and expensive to find. However, Palmer has a "sequel" currently being published over three issues of Analog magazine. Having loved the book when I read it at the behest of a friend a number of years ago (thank you Alison!), as soon as I heard this I rushed off to Fictionwise and bought the first Analog issue. Before starting reading (something I still haven't done as I'm tossing up between reading part 1 soon or waiting to have all three parts before beginning) I decided to reread Emergence.
I'm so glad I did as I loved it all over again. All the same, it's a slightly odd book and any reader should go into it ready for something a little different. Emergence is written as a journal kept by 11 year old Candy Foster-Smith. As it begins, the reader slowly discovers that she has begun writing while in a bomb shelter, waiting for the immediate effects of a bio-plague to pass so she can go outside again. She is highly intelligent and later discovers she is one of a new species of human being - tougher and smarter than old homo sapiens, who have apparently all been wiped out anyway.
She is trying to be as efficient in her writing as possible, supposedly using Pitman shorthand and a terse, almost choppy style that leaves out any extraneous and unnecessary words. It takes a few pages to get used to, but it generally easy to read all the same.
Candy eventually emerges from the shelter, finds everyone in her small town has died and goes looking for other post-human survivors. She continues to write everything down for History (with a capital H), in a chatty, informal style that quickly makes the reader feel like she is a familiar friend.
Palmer has clearly put a lot of thought into the "what ifs" required for his story. He's considered the implications of his apocalypse and the situations and conditions Candy faces generally feel realistic and plausible (although the power did seem to stay on a lot longer than I would have expected without anyone to run the power stations). Candy's solutions to her dilemmas are well worked out to be consistent with a highly developed mind but the body and physical resources of an 11 year-old. She's a precocious 11 though (especially with regard to the eventual need to repopulate the planet) and I often found myself thinking of her as being 13 and finding myself surprised when her real age was mentioned.
As I said, I loved reading this book all over again and I highly recommend it to anyone. I'm sorry it is so hard to find, as that means lots of people are missing out on an excellent read. Do check your library catalogue in case they have a copy. And/or try to next story in Analog.
Emergence
David R. Palmer
10/10
This has just been republished as an ebook, which was perfect for my planned reread in 2019. I loved all over again, again. It would be interesting to compare the text now with my friend's original paperback to see what, if anything, has been updated. But really, I just enjoyed the story. I'd forgotten some bits and remembered others, if not that this was the book they were in. Overall, it was a very satisfying reread.
REREAD #1: 8 July 2008 - 20 July 2008 (10/10)
This post-apocalyptic tale was published in 1985. Sadly, it is now out of print and both hard and expensive to find. However, Palmer has a "sequel" currently being published over three issues of Analog magazine. Having loved the book when I read it at the behest of a friend a number of years ago (thank you Alison!), as soon as I heard this I rushed off to Fictionwise and bought the first Analog issue. Before starting reading (something I still haven't done as I'm tossing up between reading part 1 soon or waiting to have all three parts before beginning) I decided to reread Emergence.
I'm so glad I did as I loved it all over again. All the same, it's a slightly odd book and any reader should go into it ready for something a little different. Emergence is written as a journal kept by 11 year old Candy Foster-Smith. As it begins, the reader slowly discovers that she has begun writing while in a bomb shelter, waiting for the immediate effects of a bio-plague to pass so she can go outside again. She is highly intelligent and later discovers she is one of a new species of human being - tougher and smarter than old homo sapiens, who have apparently all been wiped out anyway.
She is trying to be as efficient in her writing as possible, supposedly using Pitman shorthand and a terse, almost choppy style that leaves out any extraneous and unnecessary words. It takes a few pages to get used to, but it generally easy to read all the same.
Candy eventually emerges from the shelter, finds everyone in her small town has died and goes looking for other post-human survivors. She continues to write everything down for History (with a capital H), in a chatty, informal style that quickly makes the reader feel like she is a familiar friend.
Palmer has clearly put a lot of thought into the "what ifs" required for his story. He's considered the implications of his apocalypse and the situations and conditions Candy faces generally feel realistic and plausible (although the power did seem to stay on a lot longer than I would have expected without anyone to run the power stations). Candy's solutions to her dilemmas are well worked out to be consistent with a highly developed mind but the body and physical resources of an 11 year-old. She's a precocious 11 though (especially with regard to the eventual need to repopulate the planet) and I often found myself thinking of her as being 13 and finding myself surprised when her real age was mentioned.
As I said, I loved reading this book all over again and I highly recommend it to anyone. I'm sorry it is so hard to find, as that means lots of people are missing out on an excellent read. Do check your library catalogue in case they have a copy. And/or try to next story in Analog.
Emergence
David R. Palmer
10/10
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