Storyline: 3/5
Characters: 3/5
Writing Style: 3/5
World: 3/5
The Dark Between the Stars came to my attention because it was a finalist for the Hugo Award for novels. I’ve been using the finalist list as my science fiction reading guide, but there was a controversy in the years around the 2015 awards. The nomination and award stages were overtly politicized with what might be referred to as the Puppies campaigns. I wasn’t actively following science fiction happenings at the time and have only learned about it after-the-fact. From what I understand, the Puppies started off as somewhat of a self-deprecating joke, writers of contemporary pulp science fiction grumbling that only message fiction was being considered for the top awards. They wanted the fun put back in and the leftist politics taken out. Some statistics-minded Puppies figured out how the nomination process could be gamed – indeed claimed that it had been gamed for years by a Hugo voting clique – and used the rules to their advantage, getting a slate of their favorites nominated as finalists. The Dark Between the Stars was a Puppy nominee that made it to the finalist round in just such a fashion. I find the feud between the Puppies and the Social Justice Warriors particularly interesting because it presaged a divide that has manifested itself more widely in the American political and social spheres. The Puppy debate evolved to a point, where it seemed that ultra-radical progressives were as vociferously narrow-minded and condescending as the far right. Many on the left condemned the entire conservative awakening as racist, misogynistic, and homophobic. Surely there were those such as Vox Day and his Rabid Puppies element that appeared to fit this characterization. In the Hugo Awards debate it became a guilt-by-association problem. Many nominees voluntarily withdrew their candidacy from consideration as a finalist when they found that they'd gotten there with the support of the Puppies. Novels were deemed off-limits or insupportable because the fringe right also happened to like them. I don't approve of this guilt by association approach and wanted to see for myself what The Dark Between the Stars offered.
What I should have seen if this Puppy nominee was a regressive as the Social Justice Warriors claimed, was some defense of white Europeans or of some mythical golden years of white America. Instead, I found this science fiction-fantasy to positively portray cultural progressives. The story focuses largely on two space-faring races, both of which have their own nationalistic and xenophobic tendencies. The characters we are supposed to cheer are those that defy tradition and reject ethnocentrism. If this work were as traditional-minded as critics of the Puppies suggested, we ought to at least see some argument for racial purity or superiority. Instead the most affecting love stories are those that feature bi-racial or bi-species marriages, couples that withstand social stigma for the sake of love. Some of the best human characters are people of color or various non-Caucasian ethnicities. If the Puppies nominees were all “right-wing to Neo-Nazi”, then eugenics or some sort of minority population control measures should have been slipped in approvingly. The message here, however, is quite to the contrary. It is a historical villain who forcefully experimented on and manipulated the genetics and lives of unwilling research subjects. Surely then this book must have been replete with homophobia or transphobia and exclusively supportive of rigid gender roles. The Dark Between the Stars doesn’t fit the stereotype there either, though. There are strong women who have no need of men, men who stay home and take care of the child while the mother leads the business, tomboys and shy lads. There’s even some plutonic or not-so-plutonic relationships between human and robot and across couples of wide age ranges. There were no homosexual or transsexual characters in the book; but I refuse to deem something regressive simply because it isn’t actively promoting someone else’s pet cause. There’s bound to have been some stereotype or implicit bias at work in Anderson’s novel, but it was no more egregious than any writer’s obliviousness to his or her own underlying assumptions. It could very well be that other works nominated by the Puppies for some of the other categories were as regressive and incendiary as portrayed. The Dark Between the Stars was not some right-wing manifesto though. And it is unfortunate that voters in the Hugo Awards chose to vote “No Award” over this. There were reports of voters acknowledging that they hadn’t read Kevin J. Anderson’s book and that they were simply voting against anything that was affiliated with the Puppies. That strikes me as being both narrow-minded and manipulative. So my determination on the social issues element is that just because it appeared on one or both of the Puppies' slates doesn't mean it is right wing. I'm not interested enough in the Sad Puppies' pulp preferences to support or follow their slate, and I'm opposed the values expressed by Rabid Puppies' Vox Day, but I did not find this to be either mindless pulp or base bigotry.
Socio-political expectations and Puppy Gate aside, how did The Dark Between the Stars do. It was fine. I enjoyed the first half more than the second. This was much more of a fantasy tale than a science fiction one, and I enjoyed the introduction to the world and found it vibrant and descriptive. The highlight of the book was the plot-building through perspectives. I’m usually not found of the multiple-unrelated-viewpoints approach where the characters finally intersect later in the novel. In The Dark Between the Stars we have approximately 30 unique first-person perspectives spread across one hundred and thirty-nine chapters, and I was surprised by how well Anderson made it work. The characters were related in various ways, sometimes a family member or part of the same business, at times they were both witnesses to the same event or on good terms with a common party. The chapters were short and the transitions between them were rarely repeated. It was a great way to build up a vast world and explore it. I thought the short chapters would be too choppy, but I found that even the shortest of them – sometimes just a couple of pages – held just enough information to pique my interest and keep me engaged with one of the many subplots. There was a real artistry here in worldbuilding that I hadn’t experienced before, and Anderson’s work was worth considering as a potential Hugo winner for that alone. In other areas the writing and worldbuilding was much weaker. Anderson had a tendency to doubt whether he had conveyed something adequately. Thus he might describe an individual as he made meticulous preparations and, unsure whether we had picked up on this character attribute, he would then drop to a third person omniscient view and clearly state that this was the kind of person who took preparations seriously. Then, he’d do it all again a hundred pages further on. There were these odd reminders, almost verbatim, cluing us in on the attribute or feature the author didn’t want us to miss. They were the kind of reminders you would expect to pop up in a sequel that was following years after the first. I’m not sure if Anderson doubted his readers’ ability to keep track of details over 672 pages or if it was bad editing or just bad writing, but it recurred frequently enough to be distracting. Despite the immense worldbuilding I found it easy to keep track of the characters and places, not needing the glossary and never feeling overwhelmed with exotic names and locations. That worldbuilding stagnated about halfway through, and it became very much a breadth-rather-than-depth kind of fantasy. The science fiction elements were more disappointing. Though a space opera featuring lasers and space ships and gargantuan factories and technology, it was all embellishment for the fantasy. The science and mechanics simply didn’t matter. The space battle scenes were awful, in fact. There was little to distinguish these monumental battles in space from bi-plane dogfights in the air. Gravity, speed, distance – nothing of physics – had any implications in the battles. Thus the space environment and the technological options didn’t have any importance in understanding what was going on. This was about as far from hard science fiction as one could get, and it was embarrassing at times. Some of the battles had little more to them than the commanding officer aboard a ship yelling out, “Light ‘em up!” and the tactical officer responding, “With pleasure!” It was as if all the two sides of the battle had to do was push a button and their part in the battle was over. There was little planning or strategy or tactical improvisation. This wanting-to-do-something-neat-but-unable-to-fill-in-the-details flaw was present with the primary antagonist as well. Anderson wanted to escalate the conflict, up the scales. So he created this awesome opponent with overwhelming abilities. He was unable, though, to give its powers adequate description. He couldn’t get make it comprehensible, and abstracted out into vague description and generalization. This made the villain distant and incomprehensible and kept the reader from fully enjoying the stakes of the conflict.
It was an acceptable but not a great book. I enjoyed it but was also disappointed with a number of elements. One might conclude then, that if the best the Puppies had to offer was only mediocre, then they don’t have much to contribute to science fiction. That might be true if the other Hugo finalists in the years surrounding the 2015 awards had been much better. To date I’ve read 57% of all the finalist nominated for the Hugo; that’s 179 works from 1939 onward. Looking at the finalists I’ve read in the three years before or after the 2015 awards, I consider The Dark Between the Stars, to be better than Jo Walton’s Among Others, Mira Grant’s Deadline and Blackout, John Scalzi’s Redshirts, and Ann Leckie’s Ancillary Sword, and Ancillary Mercy. It was on par with James S. A. Corey’s Leviathan Wakes, Kim Stanley Robinson’s 2312, and Katherine Addison’s The Goblin Emperor. It wasn’t as good as George R. R. Martin’s A Dance with Dragons, China Mieville’s Embassytown, Ann Leckie’s Ancillary Justice, or N. K. Jemisin’s The Fifth Season and The Obelisk Gate. In my estimation that means that it was worthy of consideration and of comparable quality to many novels that were also Hugo finalists. If anything it is an indictment of the Hugo Awards and its claim to present the best of science fiction.
One final note. I did not realize this was a spin-off series when I started it. I knew that Anderson was a prolific writer with some expansive series, but I did not notice that this was a follow-up to his signature Saga of the Seven Suns heptalogy. I wish series installments like this (or Jim Butcher’s 15th-in-the-series, Skin Game) would be excluded from the novel category and placed into a sequels only category. The recent changes to the Hugo system have made a series award, but it doesn’t remove books like this from the novel award category. To his credit, Anderson wrote this in such a way to introduce the new reader to his universe. I never felt lost or that there were critically missing pieces. There were times where there were hints that two characters had met before or had some backstory. I felt a little left out not knowing that backstory, but the narrative proceeded just fine without it, and really, those intersections are there for the benefit of the longtime fans. It was an accident then, that I read this without reading the Saga of the Seven Suns, but it worked out fine. I liked this enough to read on and finish the trilogy, but I don’t see myself reading the original saga.