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The Bannerless Saga #1
Bannerless
WINNER OF THE PHILIP K. DICK AWARD A mysterious murder in a dystopian future leads a novice investigator to question what she’s learned about the foundation of her population-controlled society Decades after economic and environmental collapse destroys much of civilization in the United States, the Coast Road region isn’t just surviving but thriving by some accounts, building something new on the ruins of what came before. A culture of population control has developed in which people, organized into households, must earn the children they bear by proving they can take care of them and are awarded symbolic banners to demonstrate this privilege. In the meantime, birth control is mandatory. Enid of Haven is an Investigator, called on to mediate disputes and examine transgressions against the community. She’s young for the job and hasn't yet handled a serious case. Now, though, a suspicious death requires her attention. The victim was an outcast, but might someone have taken dislike a step further and murdered him? In a world defined by the disasters that happened a century before, the past is always present. But this investigation may reveal the cracks in Enid’s world and make her question what she really stands for.
274 pages, Paperback
First published July 11, 2017
342 people are currently reading
5153 people want to read
About the author
Carrie Vaughn
281 books4,543 followersCarrie Vaughn is the author more than twenty novels and over a hundred short stories. She's best known for her New York Times bestselling series of novels about a werewolf named Kitty who hosts a talk radio advice show for the supernaturally disadvantaged. In 2018, she won the Philip K. Dick Award for Bannerless, a post-apocalyptic murder mystery. She's published over 20 novels and 100 short stories, two of which have been finalists for the Hugo Award. She's a contributor to the Wild Cards series of shared world superhero books edited by George R. R. Martin and a graduate of the Odyssey Fantasy Writing Workshop.
An Air Force brat, she survived her nomadic childhood and managed to put down roots in Boulder, Colorado, where she collects hobbies.
Visit her at www.carrievaughn.com
For writing advice and essays, check out her Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/carrievaughn
An Air Force brat, she survived her nomadic childhood and managed to put down roots in Boulder, Colorado, where she collects hobbies.
Visit her at www.carrievaughn.com
For writing advice and essays, check out her Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/carrievaughn
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 578 reviews
September 26, 2019
Vaughn has a easy-to-read style, and it didn't take me long to finish Bannerless, despite persistent déjà vu. I read the second book in 'The Bannerless Saga,' The Wild Ones, last year, and a short story set earlier in this world,** but I at times I was so disconcerted that I ended up checking Goodreads to see if I had read this book before.
As in The Wild Ones, Bannerless involves Investigators called to a seemingly idyllic small town to investigate a dead body. In both cases, the circumstances are vague enough that it could potentially be ruled an accidental death, but is just suspicious enough to deserve investigation. In Bannerless, Enid is with her professional mentor, Thomas, and in the second book, she leads her own mentee. Narrative in both is interspersed with Enid's own memories.
The world-building is very intriguing. With a combination of decimation of population and a return to agricultural-based, mostly-subsistence lifestyle, at times the story is literally pastoral. Bannerless sets it up almost believably, with the explanation that the world slid into chaos gradually, with one disaster after another, until rebuilding became financially impossible.
The mood is thoughtful, and introspective. Because the narrative flips back and forth between Enid's adolescence and the investigation, it feels as if the stories progress well, even as there is rather incremental and non-dramatic action. The earlier narrative is a coming-of-age story that gives an intriguing opportunity to explore the world. The set-up of the investigation is interesting, because Investigators are not precisely police and have to also rely on political presence over force. I wouldn't go into it looking for an edgy or fast-paced crime; more a slice-of-life challenge.
Part of the first chapter was included in an apocalypse anthology some time ago, edited by John Joseph Adams. There was also a short story prequel to this world as well, so part of the sense of familiarity was justified. At any rate, 'familiar' in this case did not mean 'bad.' My three-star rating is partially taste; though I enjoyed the world-building a great deal, I'm often ambivalent about the New-Adult/coming-of-age story, and Enid is occasionally too much of a milquetoast (in her younger days) for me to enjoy her as much as I might. Overall, I recommend it, particularly if you enjoyed Station Eleven, or want to take a look at post-fall in a more hopeful, potentially real fashion (no zombies, asteroids or supernatural events).
**Suspicion that it was in John Joseph Adams (ed.) book, The End Has Come.
My review of The Wild Ones: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
As in The Wild Ones, Bannerless involves Investigators called to a seemingly idyllic small town to investigate a dead body. In both cases, the circumstances are vague enough that it could potentially be ruled an accidental death, but is just suspicious enough to deserve investigation. In Bannerless, Enid is with her professional mentor, Thomas, and in the second book, she leads her own mentee. Narrative in both is interspersed with Enid's own memories.
The world-building is very intriguing. With a combination of decimation of population and a return to agricultural-based, mostly-subsistence lifestyle, at times the story is literally pastoral. Bannerless sets it up almost believably, with the explanation that the world slid into chaos gradually, with one disaster after another, until rebuilding became financially impossible.
The mood is thoughtful, and introspective. Because the narrative flips back and forth between Enid's adolescence and the investigation, it feels as if the stories progress well, even as there is rather incremental and non-dramatic action. The earlier narrative is a coming-of-age story that gives an intriguing opportunity to explore the world. The set-up of the investigation is interesting, because Investigators are not precisely police and have to also rely on political presence over force. I wouldn't go into it looking for an edgy or fast-paced crime; more a slice-of-life challenge.
Part of the first chapter was included in an apocalypse anthology some time ago, edited by John Joseph Adams. There was also a short story prequel to this world as well, so part of the sense of familiarity was justified. At any rate, 'familiar' in this case did not mean 'bad.' My three-star rating is partially taste; though I enjoyed the world-building a great deal, I'm often ambivalent about the New-Adult/coming-of-age story, and Enid is occasionally too much of a milquetoast (in her younger days) for me to enjoy her as much as I might. Overall, I recommend it, particularly if you enjoyed Station Eleven, or want to take a look at post-fall in a more hopeful, potentially real fashion (no zombies, asteroids or supernatural events).
**Suspicion that it was in John Joseph Adams (ed.) book, The End Has Come.
My review of The Wild Ones: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
April 9, 2018
3.75 stars for this rather subdued, introspective SF post-apocalyptic novel, based around a murder mystery. Final review, first posted on Fantasy Literature:
In Bannerless (2017), Carrie Vaughn ― perhaps best known for her KITTY NORVILLE urban fantasy series inhabited by werewolves and vampires ― has created a reflective, deliberately paced post-apocalyptic tale with some detective fiction mixed in. It’s about a hundred years in our world’s future and after an event simply called the Fall, when civilization collapsed worldwide. The cities are now ruins, abandoned by all but the most desperate people. Climate change has resulted in, among other things, deadly typhoons that periodically hit the California coast, the setting for our story. What’s left of humanity is living a far simpler lifestyle than most of their twentieth century ancestors.
Along the Coast Road, a largely agrarian society has developed in which people have a reasonably good way of life. People live in small communities, and in group households. They have extremely strict restrictions on use of resources and on population control, which they view as a way to prevent the events that caused the Fall from reoccurring. Childbearing has become a privilege, one that must be earned; official permission for a household to have a child is evidenced by a green-and-red woven banner. Having a “bannerless” child is a major violation of the rules and social code that govern Coastal society. That, like other violations of rules such as overfishing or overplanting of fields, generally lead to the breaking up of the violator’s household and social shunning. A few traces of pre-Fall technology still survive, like (conveniently enough) birth control implants. It’s an interesting world, well-built by Vaughn.
Enid is an Investigator, one of a limited number of people with a law enforcement job that combines the roles of detective, police and judge. There isn’t a lot of crime in their area; bannerless pregnancies and people cheating the system by planting unauthorized crops are far more common than murders or crimes of violence. But Enid and her partner Tomas are called to the community of Pasadan to investigate a questionable death. The death of Sero, a man who lived alone, appears to be an accident … but he had no friends in Pasadan, and the people there are suspiciously close-mouthed about what they might know of Sero and the circumstances of his death. In Pasadan, Enid also unexpectedly finds her former lover Dak, a wandering minstrel with whom she spent a few months traveling the Coast Road some ten years ago. How is Dak involved in Sero’s death … if he is?
Bannerless alternates between two timelines: Enid and Tomas’ investigation into Sero’s death in the current day, and flashbacks from Enid’s youth, particularly her time with Dak, journeying up and down the coast with him and his cherished (and rare) guitar. He lives the life of a traveling bard, singing old and new songs, including one about dust in the wind that he learned as a child from an old man, who told him the song came from “a place called Kansas.” Dak’s renewed interest in Enid, when they meet again after so many years, didn’t seem realistic to me. Enid thinks it’s because she was the one who left him rather than the other way around, but it struck me as just as likely that he was acting charmed by Enid mostly to promote his own self-interest.
Bannerless has a restrained tone throughout, despite the main character’s investigation of a possible murder. It’s not as exciting as some novels about more harrowing dystopian societies, and may not keep you on the edge of your seat with gladiator-like fights to the death or zombie attacks. But it’s a more plausible and even hopeful future. Bannerless emphasizes the positive traits of human cooperation and care for our environment, while at the same time being clear-eyed about human shortcomings and weaknesses. Vaughn is rather mysterious about the particular causes and events of the Fall for the first half of the book; actually, it was a bit underwhelming when the Fall was finally explained.
Bannerless expands the world Vaughn created in the excellent Hugo award-nominated 2010 short story “Amaryllis,” which she’s explored in at least a couple of other short stories. If you’re a fan of contemplative post-apocalyptic novels like Station Eleven, Bannerless may appeal to you; while it’s not as deep and complex as Station Eleven, it’s still quietly appealing.
I received a free copy of this book from the publisher and NetGalley. Thank you!
In Bannerless (2017), Carrie Vaughn ― perhaps best known for her KITTY NORVILLE urban fantasy series inhabited by werewolves and vampires ― has created a reflective, deliberately paced post-apocalyptic tale with some detective fiction mixed in. It’s about a hundred years in our world’s future and after an event simply called the Fall, when civilization collapsed worldwide. The cities are now ruins, abandoned by all but the most desperate people. Climate change has resulted in, among other things, deadly typhoons that periodically hit the California coast, the setting for our story. What’s left of humanity is living a far simpler lifestyle than most of their twentieth century ancestors.
Along the Coast Road, a largely agrarian society has developed in which people have a reasonably good way of life. People live in small communities, and in group households. They have extremely strict restrictions on use of resources and on population control, which they view as a way to prevent the events that caused the Fall from reoccurring. Childbearing has become a privilege, one that must be earned; official permission for a household to have a child is evidenced by a green-and-red woven banner. Having a “bannerless” child is a major violation of the rules and social code that govern Coastal society. That, like other violations of rules such as overfishing or overplanting of fields, generally lead to the breaking up of the violator’s household and social shunning. A few traces of pre-Fall technology still survive, like (conveniently enough) birth control implants. It’s an interesting world, well-built by Vaughn.
Enid is an Investigator, one of a limited number of people with a law enforcement job that combines the roles of detective, police and judge. There isn’t a lot of crime in their area; bannerless pregnancies and people cheating the system by planting unauthorized crops are far more common than murders or crimes of violence. But Enid and her partner Tomas are called to the community of Pasadan to investigate a questionable death. The death of Sero, a man who lived alone, appears to be an accident … but he had no friends in Pasadan, and the people there are suspiciously close-mouthed about what they might know of Sero and the circumstances of his death. In Pasadan, Enid also unexpectedly finds her former lover Dak, a wandering minstrel with whom she spent a few months traveling the Coast Road some ten years ago. How is Dak involved in Sero’s death … if he is?
Bannerless alternates between two timelines: Enid and Tomas’ investigation into Sero’s death in the current day, and flashbacks from Enid’s youth, particularly her time with Dak, journeying up and down the coast with him and his cherished (and rare) guitar. He lives the life of a traveling bard, singing old and new songs, including one about dust in the wind that he learned as a child from an old man, who told him the song came from “a place called Kansas.” Dak’s renewed interest in Enid, when they meet again after so many years, didn’t seem realistic to me. Enid thinks it’s because she was the one who left him rather than the other way around, but it struck me as just as likely that he was acting charmed by Enid mostly to promote his own self-interest.
Bannerless has a restrained tone throughout, despite the main character’s investigation of a possible murder. It’s not as exciting as some novels about more harrowing dystopian societies, and may not keep you on the edge of your seat with gladiator-like fights to the death or zombie attacks. But it’s a more plausible and even hopeful future. Bannerless emphasizes the positive traits of human cooperation and care for our environment, while at the same time being clear-eyed about human shortcomings and weaknesses. Vaughn is rather mysterious about the particular causes and events of the Fall for the first half of the book; actually, it was a bit underwhelming when the Fall was finally explained.
Bannerless expands the world Vaughn created in the excellent Hugo award-nominated 2010 short story “Amaryllis,” which she’s explored in at least a couple of other short stories. If you’re a fan of contemplative post-apocalyptic novels like Station Eleven, Bannerless may appeal to you; while it’s not as deep and complex as Station Eleven, it’s still quietly appealing.
I received a free copy of this book from the publisher and NetGalley. Thank you!
April 9, 2018
What this is:
A post-apocalyptic pastoral with mystery elements, with murder, light social corruption, with traces of old tech in a much-reduced future where simple ways are regulated with tight social pressures. Banners are referring to the right to have children... as if overpopulation was the true cause of the earlier devastations.
What this isn't:
A literary post-apocalyptic novel. It's not attempting an outright thematic-based artsy-fartsy post-apoc. Indeed, it focuses on a hopeful future with an interesting social setup that attempts at a very real fairness that really isn't the norm for these types of novels. I'm used to women being raped every other page, and nothing like that is happening here. It's a real delight to see! Almost as if people are somewhat DECENT or something.
I did mention it was a pastoral novel, and it very much is. There are no big blowouts despite the investigation of a murder. There are very deliberate and reflective tones here, a big sense of patience and delving into characterization, too, but it's all in the service of a big picture.
It's a big departure from the author's UF, but that's fine. I love to see different genres from authors I trust. :) I'm very interested in continuing the sequel, now, too! :)
A post-apocalyptic pastoral with mystery elements, with murder, light social corruption, with traces of old tech in a much-reduced future where simple ways are regulated with tight social pressures. Banners are referring to the right to have children... as if overpopulation was the true cause of the earlier devastations.
What this isn't:
A literary post-apocalyptic novel. It's not attempting an outright thematic-based artsy-fartsy post-apoc. Indeed, it focuses on a hopeful future with an interesting social setup that attempts at a very real fairness that really isn't the norm for these types of novels. I'm used to women being raped every other page, and nothing like that is happening here. It's a real delight to see! Almost as if people are somewhat DECENT or something.
I did mention it was a pastoral novel, and it very much is. There are no big blowouts despite the investigation of a murder. There are very deliberate and reflective tones here, a big sense of patience and delving into characterization, too, but it's all in the service of a big picture.
It's a big departure from the author's UF, but that's fine. I love to see different genres from authors I trust. :) I'm very interested in continuing the sequel, now, too! :)
May 26, 2017
3.5 stars
Bannerless is a post-apocalyptic murder mystery that works well as a post-apocalypse, somewhat less so as a murder mystery. Carrie Vaughn’s strengths as a writer – her powerful visuals, compelling characters, and intricate worldbuilding – serve this novel well.
Set in a future “after the Fall”, Vaughn imagines this new world as a network of communities that follow strict guidelines to ensure that scant resources aren’t overtaxed. Population control is the most essential feature of this world. Women are fitted with birth control implants to curtail unsanctioned pregnancies, and households are only allowed to bear children once they earn a “banner” by proving their ability to be highly productive (and law abiding) members of society. As one might expect, these banners are a great source of pride for the households that obtain them, but are also a source of resentment and disaffection for the bannerless.
Enid is an investigator whose jurisdiction includes all manner of crimes and violations, and the main plot of the novel involves her and her partner Tomas trying to determine if a grisly death in the town of Pasadan was an accident or murder. This story alternates with flashback chapters of Enid as a young woman, living an itinerant lifestyle with her musician lover Dak. In the “present day” storyline, Enid becomes emotionally conflicted when the long estranged Dak shows up as a member of the Pasadan community.
I preferred the flashback chapters of the novel, which explored in detail the way the communities function in this setting, and how difficult it is to function without one. You know how it’s going to end, by design, but the climax is thrilling and Enid’s final choice is both believable and heart-wrenching. The mystery story is a bit thin – by the end it feels like a short story padded out to novel length. The conclusion to the “whodunnit” is easy to predict halfway through, though the ending still manages to be emotionally satisfying and fits well into Vaughn’s theme of communities succeeding, or failing, together.
A solid book, despite its flaws.
Bannerless is a post-apocalyptic murder mystery that works well as a post-apocalypse, somewhat less so as a murder mystery. Carrie Vaughn’s strengths as a writer – her powerful visuals, compelling characters, and intricate worldbuilding – serve this novel well.
Set in a future “after the Fall”, Vaughn imagines this new world as a network of communities that follow strict guidelines to ensure that scant resources aren’t overtaxed. Population control is the most essential feature of this world. Women are fitted with birth control implants to curtail unsanctioned pregnancies, and households are only allowed to bear children once they earn a “banner” by proving their ability to be highly productive (and law abiding) members of society. As one might expect, these banners are a great source of pride for the households that obtain them, but are also a source of resentment and disaffection for the bannerless.
Enid is an investigator whose jurisdiction includes all manner of crimes and violations, and the main plot of the novel involves her and her partner Tomas trying to determine if a grisly death in the town of Pasadan was an accident or murder. This story alternates with flashback chapters of Enid as a young woman, living an itinerant lifestyle with her musician lover Dak. In the “present day” storyline, Enid becomes emotionally conflicted when the long estranged Dak shows up as a member of the Pasadan community.
I preferred the flashback chapters of the novel, which explored in detail the way the communities function in this setting, and how difficult it is to function without one. You know how it’s going to end, by design, but the climax is thrilling and Enid’s final choice is both believable and heart-wrenching. The mystery story is a bit thin – by the end it feels like a short story padded out to novel length. The conclusion to the “whodunnit” is easy to predict halfway through, though the ending still manages to be emotionally satisfying and fits well into Vaughn’s theme of communities succeeding, or failing, together.
A solid book, despite its flaws.
December 20, 2024
Bannerless is just my kind of book. Though relatively short, Carrie Vaughn packs a lot of world into these pages - though it helps if you've read the short stories from this universe, as I have.
It's not quite a solarpunk novel, but I would say it has a Solarpunk setting: the end of the world has been and gone in a soft apocalypse, and the survivors have adopted a very careful and eco-friendly way of life to prevent things slipping back to where they were before. Birth control is mandatory (though only for those choosing to live in this society), and households - collective groups of adults ranging in size according to personal preference, but usually 2-4 couples - can earn banners, which allow them to have a baby. More than just the option to reproduce, though, those banners show that you're contributing, that you're helping to ensure a better future.
Enid, our lead character, is an Investigator in this world - a role that seems to be viewed as distasteful but necessary by most. Though each town has a council to see to most legalities, and crime has clearly much reduced, people are still people, and outside help is needed from time to time. And there begins the murder mystery that both marks the central plot of the book, as she travels with her partner to a small village that just might be too good to be true.
There's something - despite the murder - just so cosy about this setting. Clearly people feel safe - travellers don't travel with weapons, and everyone is welcome everywhere if they contribute roughly what they use. There's some technology that has been preserved, enough for showers and interior plumbing, as well a solar-powered vehicle available for the town's use. So it's a comfortable, pastoral and self-sufficient life they live, one where a stranger is an opportunity for news and stories, rather than a threat. Who knows, maybe underneath my cynical streak I'm a Pollyanna at heart? But the setting of this book is an absolute delight. I'll be eagerly awaiting more.
It's not quite a solarpunk novel, but I would say it has a Solarpunk setting: the end of the world has been and gone in a soft apocalypse, and the survivors have adopted a very careful and eco-friendly way of life to prevent things slipping back to where they were before. Birth control is mandatory (though only for those choosing to live in this society), and households - collective groups of adults ranging in size according to personal preference, but usually 2-4 couples - can earn banners, which allow them to have a baby. More than just the option to reproduce, though, those banners show that you're contributing, that you're helping to ensure a better future.
Enid, our lead character, is an Investigator in this world - a role that seems to be viewed as distasteful but necessary by most. Though each town has a council to see to most legalities, and crime has clearly much reduced, people are still people, and outside help is needed from time to time. And there begins the murder mystery that both marks the central plot of the book, as she travels with her partner to a small village that just might be too good to be true.
There's something - despite the murder - just so cosy about this setting. Clearly people feel safe - travellers don't travel with weapons, and everyone is welcome everywhere if they contribute roughly what they use. There's some technology that has been preserved, enough for showers and interior plumbing, as well a solar-powered vehicle available for the town's use. So it's a comfortable, pastoral and self-sufficient life they live, one where a stranger is an opportunity for news and stories, rather than a threat. Who knows, maybe underneath my cynical streak I'm a Pollyanna at heart? But the setting of this book is an absolute delight. I'll be eagerly awaiting more.
August 18, 2018
It could just be that I was really disappointed with the last few books I’ve read, but I absolutely loved this. Vaughn writes beautifully and a lot of what she says I found very relatable.
When I read the blurb, I was expecting something along the lines of The Handmaid’s Tale, a future dystopian society where women’s reproductive rights are controlled. While the book does have that, it isn’t all that it’s about, and that particular part of the story is so subtly woven into everything else that at the end I was left feeling unsure how I felt about that particular conflict. It was about the women sure, but it was also about society as a collective. As far as post-apocalyptic dystopian societies go- the society presented on the Coast Road doesn’t seem like such a terrible way to live. Which is why I’m so conflicted- because I don’t think a government should be interfering with a woman’s body in any way.
The focus of the story is Enid. We see her in two timelines, one where she comes of age, and another, as an adult. Both timelines pulled me in equally, and I was never felt disappointed, never felt like I needed to hurry through the next chapter to get back to the story I really cared about. It was impossible not to care for her- not be happy for her triumphs and adventures, not to be sad for her in her losses.
The plot isn’t action filled, it goes at its own pace, but the setting and characters are so lovely, I never noticed.
I would recommend this to anyone looking for something on the lighter side of dystopias, but still wants a book that will make them think. I absolutely can’t wait to read the next.
When I read the blurb, I was expecting something along the lines of The Handmaid’s Tale, a future dystopian society where women’s reproductive rights are controlled. While the book does have that, it isn’t all that it’s about, and that particular part of the story is so subtly woven into everything else that at the end I was left feeling unsure how I felt about that particular conflict. It was about the women sure, but it was also about society as a collective. As far as post-apocalyptic dystopian societies go- the society presented on the Coast Road doesn’t seem like such a terrible way to live. Which is why I’m so conflicted- because I don’t think a government should be interfering with a woman’s body in any way.
The focus of the story is Enid. We see her in two timelines, one where she comes of age, and another, as an adult. Both timelines pulled me in equally, and I was never felt disappointed, never felt like I needed to hurry through the next chapter to get back to the story I really cared about. It was impossible not to care for her- not be happy for her triumphs and adventures, not to be sad for her in her losses.
The plot isn’t action filled, it goes at its own pace, but the setting and characters are so lovely, I never noticed.
I would recommend this to anyone looking for something on the lighter side of dystopias, but still wants a book that will make them think. I absolutely can’t wait to read the next.
April 20, 2018
Leider überhaupt nicht das, was ich vom Klappentext her erwartet habe. Insgesamt auch eher schleppend. Deshalb gibt's von mir auch nur 2,5 Sterne.
August 10, 2017
Enid grew up after the epidemics and extreme weather conditions that caused the fall of modern civilization. To her, the idea of billions of people--even millions--is unimaginable. Like most everyone else, she lives in a small agrarian community. Her household is doing well; they have been granted a Banner, meaning they've proven themselves responsible and self-sufficient enough to be allowed to have a child. Enid is called upon to investigate a suspicious death in a nearby community, and therein begins the tale.
Unfriendly, awkward, and stuttering, Sero wasn't part of any household. After he was found dead in his workshop, most assumed he tripped and fell; only one councilor wanted to summon the investigators. When Enid and her partner Tomas turn up to Pasadan, they find that it's a homey, peaceful little place, whose denizens are both excited to have strangers and a little mystery in their midst, and uncomfortable with the investigation. Enid's questions turn up mild prejudice, a little jealousy, some minor greed, but the mystery of what happened to Sero remains unclear. Only several days of calculatedly careful and persistent observation and questioning uncovers the truth at last.
The investigation in Pasadan is intercut with Enid's travels years ago. Before she found her calling as an investigator, she traveled the Coast Road with a charming vagabond minstrel. Her journey let her (and the reader) explore the variety of towns and industries that live in this post-apocalyptic version of the US West Coast. I loved getting all the little earthy details in where their salt comes from, how they know how to create contraceptives, what remains of the old asphalt roads and abandoned cities, etc. Vaughn talks a little about her world-building choices in this interview.
I loved Enid. In a thousand small ways she demonstrates a care for others and a respect for the tenuous societal rules and norms that have arisen to help humanity survive post-Fall. On her There's this one section when she's caught in a typhoon on her travels, just barely makes it out alive, and as soon as she's basically recovered, sets out walking toward her hometown because she knows they'll need as much help with physical labor as they can get. Every traveler she meets on the way exchanges news, any information about areas that need help or places where a road has washed out and needs to be replaced, asks if the other traveler needs any food or water, carries messages if they're going that way...I loved seeing how casually cooperative they all were, and Enid especially. Others in her society look at investigators at bit askance--they might break up families where abuse occurs, or punish households for doing more or less than their fair share--but Enid is passionate about fairness and equity. Not in the sense of every person getting exactly the same amount of food or anything rigid like that, but in the idea that every baby should be taken care of, communities should help each other when they can, every household should only till as much as they need and no more, to leave resources for the next generation. Throughout the book there's this underlying question about what's needed for an individual, a household, a community, and a network of communities to survive. It's not just material things. There also has to be music, companionship, and a shared trust in each other. Enid sees her job as necessary to maintain that last quality, even when no one else around her does. I loved that Enid persisted in solving Sero's death, even though no one wanted her to. Mercy and forgiveness can be granted only after there is truth and justice.
The plot isn't all that complicated, and doesn't have earth-shattering stakes. This book worked really well for me as a study of Enid and the world around her, and because I was so interested in both, I found it almost impossible to put this book down. But someone looking for a Mad Max style adventure would be very disappointed. Also--the back cover's description isn't particularly on-point. She doesn't expose cracks in the foundation of their very society. Their society is just like any other: it works pretty well for most people, and sometimes people try to take advantage, and sometimes people are more generous than expected. So if you go in expecting a dystopia like Daughters of the North, you'll be disappointed as well.
Unfriendly, awkward, and stuttering, Sero wasn't part of any household. After he was found dead in his workshop, most assumed he tripped and fell; only one councilor wanted to summon the investigators. When Enid and her partner Tomas turn up to Pasadan, they find that it's a homey, peaceful little place, whose denizens are both excited to have strangers and a little mystery in their midst, and uncomfortable with the investigation. Enid's questions turn up mild prejudice, a little jealousy, some minor greed, but the mystery of what happened to Sero remains unclear. Only several days of calculatedly careful and persistent observation and questioning uncovers the truth at last.
The investigation in Pasadan is intercut with Enid's travels years ago. Before she found her calling as an investigator, she traveled the Coast Road with a charming vagabond minstrel. Her journey let her (and the reader) explore the variety of towns and industries that live in this post-apocalyptic version of the US West Coast. I loved getting all the little earthy details in where their salt comes from, how they know how to create contraceptives, what remains of the old asphalt roads and abandoned cities, etc. Vaughn talks a little about her world-building choices in this interview.
I loved Enid. In a thousand small ways she demonstrates a care for others and a respect for the tenuous societal rules and norms that have arisen to help humanity survive post-Fall. On her There's this one section when she's caught in a typhoon on her travels, just barely makes it out alive, and as soon as she's basically recovered, sets out walking toward her hometown because she knows they'll need as much help with physical labor as they can get. Every traveler she meets on the way exchanges news, any information about areas that need help or places where a road has washed out and needs to be replaced, asks if the other traveler needs any food or water, carries messages if they're going that way...I loved seeing how casually cooperative they all were, and Enid especially. Others in her society look at investigators at bit askance--they might break up families where abuse occurs, or punish households for doing more or less than their fair share--but Enid is passionate about fairness and equity. Not in the sense of every person getting exactly the same amount of food or anything rigid like that, but in the idea that every baby should be taken care of, communities should help each other when they can, every household should only till as much as they need and no more, to leave resources for the next generation. Throughout the book there's this underlying question about what's needed for an individual, a household, a community, and a network of communities to survive. It's not just material things. There also has to be music, companionship, and a shared trust in each other. Enid sees her job as necessary to maintain that last quality, even when no one else around her does. I loved that Enid persisted in solving Sero's death, even though no one wanted her to. Mercy and forgiveness can be granted only after there is truth and justice.
The plot isn't all that complicated, and doesn't have earth-shattering stakes. This book worked really well for me as a study of Enid and the world around her, and because I was so interested in both, I found it almost impossible to put this book down. But someone looking for a Mad Max style adventure would be very disappointed. Also--the back cover's description isn't particularly on-point. She doesn't expose cracks in the foundation of their very society. Their society is just like any other: it works pretty well for most people, and sometimes people try to take advantage, and sometimes people are more generous than expected. So if you go in expecting a dystopia like Daughters of the North, you'll be disappointed as well.
March 31, 2018
What kind of post-apocalypse novel is this, where smart and good people do smart and good things, and lead a decent life because of it? A hugely refreshing addition to the genre, that's what!
Set a few generations past the collapse of society, we follow the story of Enid, an "Investigator" who is called to the site of a death, which may or may not have been murder. And while this frames the story, it's more a tale of learning from the mistakes of the past and fixing what went wrong. Towns now consist of households, a family unit made of many permutations of adults, all working towards the strength of the community, hoping to prove they can provide for themselves and contribute to the good of the neighborhood, eventually earning a banner that gives them permission to bring a child into the world, one for whom will be properly supported and cared.
I loved the tone of this book. Optimism and hope and wisdom abound. Even with the deaths and lies and glimpses of the darker side of human nature, this left me feeling uplifted, without the dark aftertaste of dispair that most post-apocalyptic tales wallow in.
Nominee for the 2018 Philip K Dick Awards, and my running favorite so far to win.
Edit: And it won! Well deserved.
Set a few generations past the collapse of society, we follow the story of Enid, an "Investigator" who is called to the site of a death, which may or may not have been murder. And while this frames the story, it's more a tale of learning from the mistakes of the past and fixing what went wrong. Towns now consist of households, a family unit made of many permutations of adults, all working towards the strength of the community, hoping to prove they can provide for themselves and contribute to the good of the neighborhood, eventually earning a banner that gives them permission to bring a child into the world, one for whom will be properly supported and cared.
I loved the tone of this book. Optimism and hope and wisdom abound. Even with the deaths and lies and glimpses of the darker side of human nature, this left me feeling uplifted, without the dark aftertaste of dispair that most post-apocalyptic tales wallow in.
Nominee for the 2018 Philip K Dick Awards, and my running favorite so far to win.
Edit: And it won! Well deserved.
July 15, 2019
A soft spoken procedural that takes place in a post-collapse world. As the main character investigates a suspicious death in another settlement, we get to know the new and lower tech world that has sprung up in place of the one we know.
I liked the quieter way Vaughn writes. I'm starting to see it as the way she generally tells her stories, and I find it appealing. The characters seem real and up close, like people you might know yourself.
The arrangement of the society Enid lives in was an interesting choice. Households of contributing adults, who may or may not be romantic partners, create a form of independence while taking advantage of all benefits of co-dependent and communal living. I'm interested in finding out more about the fringe groups that live outside the Coast Road settlements; maybe more will become known about them in the next book.
A promising start to a series that can easily be read as a standalone, but I'm definitely going to check out the sequel, The Wild Dead.
I liked the quieter way Vaughn writes. I'm starting to see it as the way she generally tells her stories, and I find it appealing. The characters seem real and up close, like people you might know yourself.
The arrangement of the society Enid lives in was an interesting choice. Households of contributing adults, who may or may not be romantic partners, create a form of independence while taking advantage of all benefits of co-dependent and communal living. I'm interested in finding out more about the fringe groups that live outside the Coast Road settlements; maybe more will become known about them in the next book.
A promising start to a series that can easily be read as a standalone, but I'm definitely going to check out the sequel, The Wild Dead.
July 31, 2019
A quiet story of a society, 100 years after much of civilization as we know it broke down. There is a mystery that starts the story off: there was a questionable death in another town. Enid, the main character, works as an Investigator. And though this instantly conjures up certain images in my mind, Enid must rely mostly on asking questions, and a calm demeanor, to get her through her investigations. Much was lost many years ago, including forensic techniques.
Enid and her co-investigator, mentor and longtime friend Thomas, arrive and find the dead guy, resistance to their presence, and in Enid's case, an old boyfriend from her adolescence with whom she had spent many weeks walking from town to town. The dead guy was a loner, and wasn't particularly liked, as he was seen as bannerless: having been born outside of the accepted practice.
The mystery isn't that difficult to solve, but what was more interesting was the society that had developed with a number of low-environmental-impact technologies, and the collective attitude that everyone needed to pull together, to be useful, and to not hoard. It's a much more peaceful world, and disputes are mostly resolved fairly quietly.
I liked the general sense of calm in the story. People in Enid's part of the world survived the apocalypse, and didn't degenerate into a wild, horrible, free-for-all, as is so often the case in post-apocalyptic stories. Instead, people realize the importance of cooperation, and of how everyone is dependent upon one another. It's such a hopeful, unusual picture.
Enid and her co-investigator, mentor and longtime friend Thomas, arrive and find the dead guy, resistance to their presence, and in Enid's case, an old boyfriend from her adolescence with whom she had spent many weeks walking from town to town. The dead guy was a loner, and wasn't particularly liked, as he was seen as bannerless: having been born outside of the accepted practice.
The mystery isn't that difficult to solve, but what was more interesting was the society that had developed with a number of low-environmental-impact technologies, and the collective attitude that everyone needed to pull together, to be useful, and to not hoard. It's a much more peaceful world, and disputes are mostly resolved fairly quietly.
I liked the general sense of calm in the story. People in Enid's part of the world survived the apocalypse, and didn't degenerate into a wild, horrible, free-for-all, as is so often the case in post-apocalyptic stories. Instead, people realize the importance of cooperation, and of how everyone is dependent upon one another. It's such a hopeful, unusual picture.
February 14, 2017
I get really excited about dystopian/speculative mysteries, probably because THE CITY AND THE CITY is one of my favorite mysteries. But both can be tough genres, hard to do well. Especially if you decide to also shoot for a rather literary approach to the whole endeavor. In the end, BANNERLESS didn't quite succeed for me in any category.
The post-apocalyptic setting is crucial to the book. I tend to prefer books that don't go too high concept but that still create a world that feels vivid and different. This book has a low concept setting, a rather simple and straightforward apocalypse, a rather simple and straightforward new society. (If one that felt rather unbalanced. In some ways they are heavily agrarian and have little technology, but then there will be birth control implants and solar cars.) If you are all about worldbuilding, this book isn't going to keep you all that interested.
The mystery could easily salvage this but this world has a victim no one liked, a society where there's rarely a motive to murder, and a small list of suspects. I found myself skimming more than once, which is certainly not my normal experience with a mystery.
The mystery intersperses with a long backstory, but it doesn't teach us much about our protagonist or do much to forward the plot or post-apocalyptic setting. Instead it just brought the pacing down in an already rather slow read.
The post-apocalyptic setting is crucial to the book. I tend to prefer books that don't go too high concept but that still create a world that feels vivid and different. This book has a low concept setting, a rather simple and straightforward apocalypse, a rather simple and straightforward new society. (If one that felt rather unbalanced. In some ways they are heavily agrarian and have little technology, but then there will be birth control implants and solar cars.) If you are all about worldbuilding, this book isn't going to keep you all that interested.
The mystery could easily salvage this but this world has a victim no one liked, a society where there's rarely a motive to murder, and a small list of suspects. I found myself skimming more than once, which is certainly not my normal experience with a mystery.
The mystery intersperses with a long backstory, but it doesn't teach us much about our protagonist or do much to forward the plot or post-apocalyptic setting. Instead it just brought the pacing down in an already rather slow read.
June 14, 2018
Not a very strong plot nor characters . I spent half the book waiting for the “big “ plot twist to happen but it never did . Expected a lot more from this book after reading its intro but I was left disappointed.
May 29, 2018
This book was betrayed by its marketing. This is not dystopian, and there’s no exposing the cracks in the foundation of society, and anyone who reads it hoping for that grim Handmaid’s Tale action is going to be incredibly disappointed. Meanwhile, people like me, who don’t like that stuff but would really enjoy this book, are driven away. I was almost driven away, but I’m glad I gave this book a shot.
What it actually is hopeful post-apocalyptic fiction. Yeah, there was an apocalypse — not one big dramatic one, but basically the accumulation of disasters and attrition over a period of years — but that was 100 years ago, and society recovered. The technological level has fallen, but not evenly or completely; they still have solar panels and some tools and birth control implants. The last is really important to the book — every woman (or, well, it should be uterus-haver, but this is NOT a gender-variance-friendly book) gets an implant, and only removes it once their household has proven that it can support a baby and is given a banner, which signifies the right to have a child.
The society in this is not dystopian at all, nor is it utopian. It’s just a different way of organizing people. In that, it reminds me in some ways of New York 2140, albeit with a much lower technology level (and with much less focus on the details of living; one thing Robinson does not really address is child-having or child-rearing or really families much at all). This society is more communal, with minimal focus on the nuclear family unit (instead, the base unit is the household, which is built in various ways, but not really ever with just a nuclear family), and way more interdependence in communities. The focus on everyone helping, everyone doing their bit, is intense. And it also very much drives the plot.
And as for the cracks in society — nope, those aren’t exposed, either. If anything, this book is about the relative resilience of this society. Sure, the mystery involves some people being selfish and working the system in their favor, but that’s just humans being humans. In the end, the problem is dealt with, and the society continues on.
I really enjoyed this book. Not so much because of the mystery, which is, shall we say, not exactly a challenge to solve, but because of the worldbuilding, and because of the characters that inhabit this world. I especially liked Enid, but honestly most of the characters were interesting and likable both.
This book struck me as inherently hopeful and kind. It was not just a compelling read but a *pleasant* one. And that’s why the summary copy stuns me — this book is exactly the opposite of what it says on the tin.
What it actually is hopeful post-apocalyptic fiction. Yeah, there was an apocalypse — not one big dramatic one, but basically the accumulation of disasters and attrition over a period of years — but that was 100 years ago, and society recovered. The technological level has fallen, but not evenly or completely; they still have solar panels and some tools and birth control implants. The last is really important to the book — every woman (or, well, it should be uterus-haver, but this is NOT a gender-variance-friendly book) gets an implant, and only removes it once their household has proven that it can support a baby and is given a banner, which signifies the right to have a child.
The society in this is not dystopian at all, nor is it utopian. It’s just a different way of organizing people. In that, it reminds me in some ways of New York 2140, albeit with a much lower technology level (and with much less focus on the details of living; one thing Robinson does not really address is child-having or child-rearing or really families much at all). This society is more communal, with minimal focus on the nuclear family unit (instead, the base unit is the household, which is built in various ways, but not really ever with just a nuclear family), and way more interdependence in communities. The focus on everyone helping, everyone doing their bit, is intense. And it also very much drives the plot.
And as for the cracks in society — nope, those aren’t exposed, either. If anything, this book is about the relative resilience of this society. Sure, the mystery involves some people being selfish and working the system in their favor, but that’s just humans being humans. In the end, the problem is dealt with, and the society continues on.
I really enjoyed this book. Not so much because of the mystery, which is, shall we say, not exactly a challenge to solve, but because of the worldbuilding, and because of the characters that inhabit this world. I especially liked Enid, but honestly most of the characters were interesting and likable both.
This book struck me as inherently hopeful and kind. It was not just a compelling read but a *pleasant* one. And that’s why the summary copy stuns me — this book is exactly the opposite of what it says on the tin.
July 31, 2018
July 2018 - Re-read before reading newly-published sequel The Wild Dead
March 2018 -This was strangely difficult to put down, in a quiet and unobtrusive way. It's a murder mystery at the same time as it's a post-apocalyptic fantasy. No great weapons, no sound-and-fury. Just people who have grown up in a low-tech world trying to get on with their lives. They're very conscious of their limited resources, and that affects many of their laws and customs.
The cutting back-and-forth in Our Heroine's timeline isn't disruptive - and it's only 10 or so years. But it's helpful in understanding her ways of thinking, her passions and her actions.
In a few ways, this is difficult to read, since one of the basic precepts of this alternate reality is to conserve resources, to guard the over-use of them. We are currently at the hands of people in control who seem to think that they must grab all the resources for themselves and their cronies, rather than keeping them for the future.
March 2018 -This was strangely difficult to put down, in a quiet and unobtrusive way. It's a murder mystery at the same time as it's a post-apocalyptic fantasy. No great weapons, no sound-and-fury. Just people who have grown up in a low-tech world trying to get on with their lives. They're very conscious of their limited resources, and that affects many of their laws and customs.
The cutting back-and-forth in Our Heroine's timeline isn't disruptive - and it's only 10 or so years. But it's helpful in understanding her ways of thinking, her passions and her actions.
In a few ways, this is difficult to read, since one of the basic precepts of this alternate reality is to conserve resources, to guard the over-use of them. We are currently at the hands of people in control who seem to think that they must grab all the resources for themselves and their cronies, rather than keeping them for the future.
July 11, 2017
Ahoy there me mateys! I received this sci-fi eARC from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. So here be me honest musings . . .
I had previously read and enjoyed Carrie Vaughn's young adult sci-fi novel, martians abroad. When I saw that she had a dystopian murder mystery sci-fi coming out, I was excited to read it. And it exceeded me expectations.
The story is set "after the fall" in the coastal United States. The coast has flooded. Cities have fallen. The world is slowly rebuilding. The novel follows Enid, a young Investigator who helps police the towns along the Coastal Road. That job involves anything from helping people in the aftermath of storms, settling disputes, or in this case, investigating an extremely rare potential murder.
This book totally worked for me based on the strength of the world-building and Enid's character. It was a thrilling character study of one person living at the beginnings of a new era. The people in Enid's part of the world have been rebuilding through generations in an agrarian society where people live in structured households and must earn the right to bear children. Going against the norms are frowned upon because no one wants to repeat the mistakes of the past. When an outcast in another town is found dead, an investigation is requested. Enid takes the lead on her first major case where the stakes keep getting higher.
Now the murder mystery was a fun background but is not the true point of the story. This novel is really structured around Enid's life both past and present. This involves the fantastic use of flashbacks that help the reader understand some of the reasons Enid chooses to take the steps she does in the solving the crime. Enid is inherently curious and wants to be helpful. Because of the fall, society has lost so much knowledge. While the rest of the people seem to be focused on the future, Enid ponders both the past and the present. This is a dystopian with an optimistic outlook. I would love to have Enid on me crew.
I enjoyed the glimpses into why the world fell, the societies that exist outside the coastal road, the seemingly realistic mix of old technologies and new, the strong place of women in society, and above all watching Enid's journey. I will certainly be reading more of this author's work.
So lastly . . .
Thank you John Joseph Adams / Mariner Books!
See me other reviews at https://thecaptainsquartersblog.wordp...
I had previously read and enjoyed Carrie Vaughn's young adult sci-fi novel, martians abroad. When I saw that she had a dystopian murder mystery sci-fi coming out, I was excited to read it. And it exceeded me expectations.
The story is set "after the fall" in the coastal United States. The coast has flooded. Cities have fallen. The world is slowly rebuilding. The novel follows Enid, a young Investigator who helps police the towns along the Coastal Road. That job involves anything from helping people in the aftermath of storms, settling disputes, or in this case, investigating an extremely rare potential murder.
This book totally worked for me based on the strength of the world-building and Enid's character. It was a thrilling character study of one person living at the beginnings of a new era. The people in Enid's part of the world have been rebuilding through generations in an agrarian society where people live in structured households and must earn the right to bear children. Going against the norms are frowned upon because no one wants to repeat the mistakes of the past. When an outcast in another town is found dead, an investigation is requested. Enid takes the lead on her first major case where the stakes keep getting higher.
Now the murder mystery was a fun background but is not the true point of the story. This novel is really structured around Enid's life both past and present. This involves the fantastic use of flashbacks that help the reader understand some of the reasons Enid chooses to take the steps she does in the solving the crime. Enid is inherently curious and wants to be helpful. Because of the fall, society has lost so much knowledge. While the rest of the people seem to be focused on the future, Enid ponders both the past and the present. This is a dystopian with an optimistic outlook. I would love to have Enid on me crew.
I enjoyed the glimpses into why the world fell, the societies that exist outside the coastal road, the seemingly realistic mix of old technologies and new, the strong place of women in society, and above all watching Enid's journey. I will certainly be reading more of this author's work.
So lastly . . .
Thank you John Joseph Adams / Mariner Books!
See me other reviews at https://thecaptainsquartersblog.wordp...
May 31, 2017
I've read Vaughn's Golden Age novels, to mixed results, but enough to merit interest in her new book. Bannerless is a stand alone (thus far anyway, which doesn't mean much, Vaughn is a prolific series writer) and the mixture of dystopia and a murder mystery sounded very enticing. The execution was somewhat less so. Vaughn created a compelling near future post apocalyptic world, but didn't roam in it too much and the murder mystery was very underwhelming. Not quite sure why, thinking about it. The main character was quite compelling, a female investigator, traveling to another settlement to solve a crime, encountering a past love and some complicated local politics. But it was all just sort of skimmed, the story didn't really go into the details when it should have, making for a quick but not particularly satisfying read, a literary equivalent of an appetizer instead of a meal. The only thing Vaughn's world got really right is the reproduction tactics. In so many dystopias with blatant ignorance to dire circumstances everyone reproduces like it's going out of style, which I always found to be utterly idiotic. When resources are limited, present is bleak future more so, one would think making babies should be the last thing on anyone's minds. But no, time and time again, caution is thrown to the wind and kids are made and brought into the world that is at the very best hostile to all lifeforms. Not here, though, in Vaughn's vision of the future, families are set up and the right to reproduce must be earned, thus the banners. It is, thus, a privilege, not a right or a past time. Granted to some that may sound more brutal that bringing children into a devastated devastating world, but is it really...and anyway different strokes...it would certainly explain the way babies are being born now in certain places, like third world countries. No forethought, no plan, just...babies. At any rate, in the Bannerless world all technology is inferior to the world before, expect, inexplicably, the contraceptives. And so there is a well defined social status struggle. And that aspect is interesting and the rest of the book is ok, nothing special, just a decent quick read. Thanks Netgalley.
May 6, 2018
I read this short story as part of The End Has Come. There is also a full length novel with the same name. Fantastic story. Dystopian older investigator finds out what's happening in a small village. Love it. 5 stars I am so excited there are more books in this series. I would definitely recommend this book/series. I've read that the book is the same investigator but when she first started working. I've ordered it from the library.
For some reason the full length full sized book has the same name. So I'm now reading the full length book #1.
A really good murder mystery that takes place in a dystopian world where everyone must follow the rules or things will go back to the old ways. A really good story. I'm planning on reading the rest of the series.
For some reason the full length full sized book has the same name. So I'm now reading the full length book #1.
A really good murder mystery that takes place in a dystopian world where everyone must follow the rules or things will go back to the old ways. A really good story. I'm planning on reading the rest of the series.
August 11, 2017
I'm not sure if this is a fast read, or if my being sick the last two days and reading a lot made it seem like a fast read. In either case, it did make the days go faster. :)
This is marketed as a dytopia, but I actually didn't find the post-apocalyptic society particularly dystopian. In fact, it's pretty stable and egalitarian. I would live in this future, except minus all the previous deaths, of course, but this takes place many decades after the apocalypse as well.
Enid is an investigator, and she and her friend and fellow investigator Tomas travel to what looks like an idyllic town to investigate a rare murder. The title comes from the Banners awarded households who have contributed to their community enough to be able to support a child. The Banners allow households to have children, but only the households who can contribute. So a household where no one works wouldn't be awarded a banner. At the age of 12, girls are put on birth control, and if their household receives a banner, then the BC is removed until they have a child.
There are ways to spin that as dystopian, but in the world of the novel, it seems perfectly practical. As someone with a mild disability, and a father with a disability that prohibits him from working (mine doesn't), it does make me wonder about the households with family members who are unable to contribute to earning a banner. Unable to work. However, disabled people apparently don't exist in this world. (Note: I mistakenly said this. There is a child with Downs syndrome in the novel. I'm still curious about how adults with disabilities interact in this world, but some disabilities are presented.)
The mystery was a bit unmysterious, but it still kept me reading. I enjoyed the world and Enid's character enough to want to know what happened next. The world building is clunky in the beginning, but once it settles into a story, it's a fun read.
Thanks to Netgalley and John Joseph Adams/Mariner Books for providing me with a free copy in exchange for an honest review.
3.5/5
This is marketed as a dytopia, but I actually didn't find the post-apocalyptic society particularly dystopian. In fact, it's pretty stable and egalitarian. I would live in this future, except minus all the previous deaths, of course, but this takes place many decades after the apocalypse as well.
Enid is an investigator, and she and her friend and fellow investigator Tomas travel to what looks like an idyllic town to investigate a rare murder. The title comes from the Banners awarded households who have contributed to their community enough to be able to support a child. The Banners allow households to have children, but only the households who can contribute. So a household where no one works wouldn't be awarded a banner. At the age of 12, girls are put on birth control, and if their household receives a banner, then the BC is removed until they have a child.
There are ways to spin that as dystopian, but in the world of the novel, it seems perfectly practical. As someone with a mild disability, and a father with a disability that prohibits him from working (mine doesn't), it does make me wonder about the households with family members who are unable to contribute to earning a banner. Unable to work. However, disabled people apparently don't exist in this world. (Note: I mistakenly said this. There is a child with Downs syndrome in the novel. I'm still curious about how adults with disabilities interact in this world, but some disabilities are presented.)
The mystery was a bit unmysterious, but it still kept me reading. I enjoyed the world and Enid's character enough to want to know what happened next. The world building is clunky in the beginning, but once it settles into a story, it's a fun read.
Thanks to Netgalley and John Joseph Adams/Mariner Books for providing me with a free copy in exchange for an honest review.
3.5/5
August 5, 2017
It’s hard to write about the future when the present is on fire.
—John Scalzi, July 28, 2017, on his blog Whatever
The present may well be on fire (and writing this review in the midst of a disturbingly intense heat wave only reinforced that impression!), but—at least as far as Carrie Vaughn's SF novel Bannerless is concerned—those flames will eventually fade into a warm and comforting glow, a perspective which fits Bannerless snugly into the post-apocalyptic subgenre of speculative fiction.
Post-apocalyptic SF offers not just the fascinating spectacle of disaster, but a look at what might happen afterward. It is, generally—and this may seem counterintuitive—relatively upbeat. Most of humanity may perish, but not all, and the ones who are left... well, they're survivors, aren't they, precisely by definition. These are the brave souls who by some combination of luck, skill and character managed to make it through that harsh winnowing (whatever form it took this time) to begin rebuilding civilization—maybe even with a few improvements—after its collapse. And we, as readers sharing their experiences, are able (if only briefly and vicariously) to count ourselves among those survivors.
The post-apocalyptic conceit lets us reset the clock—test our resolve—make contingency plans and see how they might play out. Some of its writers (and their readers) revel in anarchy (while still of course reclining in civilized comfort themselves), gleeful at the evaporation of the oppressive laws and strictures of behavior that only shackled and obscured their true natures. Others, more thoughtful, mourn their losses, insist on the worth of civilized cooperation, and offer a steady spark of hope seen through the flickering flames.
Vaughn's novel is of that latter sort. Its antecedents are too numerous to list, but a few enduring examples from my own reading would have to include George R. Stewart's Earth Abides, Pat Frank's Alas, Babylon, and—the one it resembles most closely—Ursula K. LeGuin's landmark work of future anthropology, Always Coming Home.
Like Always Coming Home, Bannerless takes place on America's West Coast, in a region that went through cataclysms both natural and anthropogenic but which, by the time the book is set, has returned to something like a pastoral, pre-Columbian paradise. Vaughn's people of the Coast Road live in the same sort of stable, sustainable simplicity as LeGuin's tribal Kesh. These are not the survivors of the Fall—they are the descendants of the survivors, the beneficiaries of their ancestors' many sacrifices. The Kesh have forgotten the details of their Fall, and the people of the Coast Road are close to doing so, but both still try to remember and avoid the mistakes that caused the collapse. Both the Kesh and the Coast Road folk tend to be insular, inward-looking, even though they're spread out geographically and offer great freedom of motion for those few who want it. They have a dynamic love/hate relationship with our own era—while anxious to preserve a few parts they like, they have jettisoned others wholesale. A few functioning artifacts that remain from the bad old days are carefully maintained, but treated warily, as if they are infectious agents, likely to cause the fever to return.
Bannerless diverges from LeGuin's work in at least two important respects, though. The founders of Haven in Bannerless were medical professionals, who chose to preserve (and in fact require) reliable, safe, subcutaneous contraceptive implants. A family has to earn a banner, before being allowed to conceive a child—although of course Vaughn's title alone reminds us that human beings won't always follow the rules. In Always Coming Home, there's little mention of contraception; the Kesh are instead subject to harsher, more Malthusian population controls: low birth rate and high infant mortality, both pointed legacies from LeGuin's version of the Fall.
Always Coming Home is also more a collection of ethnographic data than a sustained narrative, whereas Bannerless is actually a novel, with a relatively straightforward focus on one woman: Enid of Haven, whose story alternates between flashbacks to her adventurous youth, in which she wanders the Coast Road with a charismatic musician, and her more mature present, in which Enid must investigate a suspicious death in the suspiciously pleasant town of Pasadan. Vaughn's future may be happy and stable, but it is not Utopian.
I'm still not sure how well the Coast Road's system would survive if pitted against a determined opponent—it seems to me that a major factor in its equilibrium is its lucky isolation. Nonetheless, Bannerless portrays the kind of civilization I'd like to see succeed—and in that, I think, Carrie Vaughn succeeds as well.
July 17, 2019
It was ok. I was really curious to find out where post-apocalyptic, dystopian fiction by Carrie Vaughn of „Kitty and the Midnight Hour“-fame would take me. And it was ok, nothing more, nothing less. Nice world building, nice character development, nice enough.
I liked the society she invented along that Coast Road and the idea of earning banners. Intriguing, even. I liked Enid‘s backstory and watching her becoming the person she is in the story‘s present. But that was about it. The mystery held little interest for me and the solution was meh. I could have put this book down pretty much at any point in the story and wouldn‘t have missed it.
The ending felt a little rushed. I will very likely not continue this series.
Part of this were reminiscent of the Book of the Unnamed Midwife.
I liked the society she invented along that Coast Road and the idea of earning banners. Intriguing, even. I liked Enid‘s backstory and watching her becoming the person she is in the story‘s present. But that was about it. The mystery held little interest for me and the solution was meh. I could have put this book down pretty much at any point in the story and wouldn‘t have missed it.
The ending felt a little rushed. I will very likely not continue this series.
Part of this were reminiscent of the Book of the Unnamed Midwife.
July 9, 2017
Review originally published 9 July 2017 at Falling Letters. I received a copy from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for my honest review. (Decided I 'did not like' this book, so 1 star it is.)
I went into this book hoping for some clever literary fiction exploring questions of population management, bodily autonomy, and maybe some critiquing of environmental and economic policies. I hoped the murder mystery would take a back seat, functioning as frame for those questions. Unfortunately, Bannerless falls short in all those areas. Bannerless instead tells a simple coming of age tale and murder mystery, neither of which are particularly compelling.
The first thing about this book that stood out to me was the repetitive and self-explanatory prose. One aspect that particularly grated on me was the hammering on about how investigators are feared, terrible, powerful. Their brown uniforms symbolize of something awful, but who knows what. We’re told numerous times that the average person disdains investigators, yet the narration never shows why. I don’t like being told something over and over with no evidence. Perhaps its because investigators enforce rules that people don’t like? But we’re never shown effects of that – the system that most people live by functions well and we don’t see or hear about an investigator ruining someone’s life. (One person has an outburst about a household that was split up because an investigator discovered they were doing something illegal, but that has no connection to this story.)
Another related issue I had with the prose is that many sentences felt unnecessary, in that they told me something I could have inferred from the dialogue. It was an odd case of telling instead of showing – at times, the telling happened in addition to the showing. One chapter contains five instances of glaring, by the same two characters. In general, the prose reads amateurish and undeveloped.
This critique about the investigators ties into my main issue with the novel. Where is the dystopia? How does the investigation “reveal the cracks in Enid’s world and make her question what she really stands for”? Enid doesn’t seem to question her role as the blurb hints. The story doesn’t convincingly portray birth/population control as a negative thing, which, given the book’s dystopic tropes, I would assume is the goal. There’s talk of how children born bannerless (i.e. their parents didn’t have a banner and thus shouldn’t have had a child) are discriminated against. Enid encounters people living outside the households and banners structure, but they live desperate lives which enforces Enid’s belief in the banner system (not that she ever questioned the system). Based on what happens in the novel, I support the banner system, which ensures if you can support a child, then you can have one. Wouldn’t that be the case in an ideal world? That everyone who has a child can support that child? Of course, that’s a simplistic view that should open the door for a more complex exploration of bodily autonomy and other concepts, but Bannerless makes no room for such an exploration.
It occurs to me now perhaps the story is more complex than I’m giving it credit for. Maybe it really is advocating this method of population control, or just trying to start that discussion by showing a positive side of population control. Yet I still feel that the story would have been improved by a more nuanced exploration of the various sides of that discussion. Plus, the book is being marketed as a dystopia so I’m not sure what what Enid was supposed to discover as she investigated the murder.
The story follows two threads – Enid as a teen travelling with musician Dak and Enid as a twenty-something investigating a murder. The murder mystery itself is simple and predictable, and thus pretty boring. The investigation is blah. Enid tries to talk to people, they don’t want to talk to her. She eventually figures it out. Hooray. I did like teen Enid, despite her slow story. She follows her own path. She makes the decision to travel with Dak and she makes the decision to leave him.
The Bottom Line: Bannerless has the premise of a fascinating story, but the weak plot and dull storytelling make Bannerless one you can skip.
I went into this book hoping for some clever literary fiction exploring questions of population management, bodily autonomy, and maybe some critiquing of environmental and economic policies. I hoped the murder mystery would take a back seat, functioning as frame for those questions. Unfortunately, Bannerless falls short in all those areas. Bannerless instead tells a simple coming of age tale and murder mystery, neither of which are particularly compelling.
The first thing about this book that stood out to me was the repetitive and self-explanatory prose. One aspect that particularly grated on me was the hammering on about how investigators are feared, terrible, powerful. Their brown uniforms symbolize of something awful, but who knows what. We’re told numerous times that the average person disdains investigators, yet the narration never shows why. I don’t like being told something over and over with no evidence. Perhaps its because investigators enforce rules that people don’t like? But we’re never shown effects of that – the system that most people live by functions well and we don’t see or hear about an investigator ruining someone’s life. (One person has an outburst about a household that was split up because an investigator discovered they were doing something illegal, but that has no connection to this story.)
Another related issue I had with the prose is that many sentences felt unnecessary, in that they told me something I could have inferred from the dialogue. It was an odd case of telling instead of showing – at times, the telling happened in addition to the showing. One chapter contains five instances of glaring, by the same two characters. In general, the prose reads amateurish and undeveloped.
This critique about the investigators ties into my main issue with the novel. Where is the dystopia? How does the investigation “reveal the cracks in Enid’s world and make her question what she really stands for”? Enid doesn’t seem to question her role as the blurb hints. The story doesn’t convincingly portray birth/population control as a negative thing, which, given the book’s dystopic tropes, I would assume is the goal. There’s talk of how children born bannerless (i.e. their parents didn’t have a banner and thus shouldn’t have had a child) are discriminated against. Enid encounters people living outside the households and banners structure, but they live desperate lives which enforces Enid’s belief in the banner system (not that she ever questioned the system). Based on what happens in the novel, I support the banner system, which ensures if you can support a child, then you can have one. Wouldn’t that be the case in an ideal world? That everyone who has a child can support that child? Of course, that’s a simplistic view that should open the door for a more complex exploration of bodily autonomy and other concepts, but Bannerless makes no room for such an exploration.
It occurs to me now perhaps the story is more complex than I’m giving it credit for. Maybe it really is advocating this method of population control, or just trying to start that discussion by showing a positive side of population control. Yet I still feel that the story would have been improved by a more nuanced exploration of the various sides of that discussion. Plus, the book is being marketed as a dystopia so I’m not sure what what Enid was supposed to discover as she investigated the murder.
The story follows two threads – Enid as a teen travelling with musician Dak and Enid as a twenty-something investigating a murder. The murder mystery itself is simple and predictable, and thus pretty boring. The investigation is blah. Enid tries to talk to people, they don’t want to talk to her. She eventually figures it out. Hooray. I did like teen Enid, despite her slow story. She follows her own path. She makes the decision to travel with Dak and she makes the decision to leave him.
The Bottom Line: Bannerless has the premise of a fascinating story, but the weak plot and dull storytelling make Bannerless one you can skip.
March 14, 2020
*This is the San Francisco Public Library's "On The Same Page" book for March/April
I'm not going to lie, I went into this expecting to dislike it. I'm not a huge sci-fi fan, nor am I a mystery fan but something about the combination of the two and this author's writing style made it work for me. I enjoyed how the story flipped from past-to-present and I enjoyed the main character's sense of herself. I also really enjoyed how the post-apocalyptic society was functioning; it legit sounded like my dream life (minus the forced birth-control implant). Essentially, it was a novel that I found pleasant to read and I miiiiight just read the next one in the series as well.
I'm not going to lie, I went into this expecting to dislike it. I'm not a huge sci-fi fan, nor am I a mystery fan but something about the combination of the two and this author's writing style made it work for me. I enjoyed how the story flipped from past-to-present and I enjoyed the main character's sense of herself. I also really enjoyed how the post-apocalyptic society was functioning; it legit sounded like my dream life (minus the forced birth-control implant). Essentially, it was a novel that I found pleasant to read and I miiiiight just read the next one in the series as well.
January 28, 2020
In "Bannerless" Vaughn has created a world that barely surviving a superflu epidemic, is also beset by horrendous storms responsible for laying to waste the cities, once inhabited, are now left to crumble. What remains of humanity near the Coast Road are non-traditional family units that have formed communities loosely networked together.
The rule of law seems simple - take only what you need. This of course, is reflected in the way that the farmers plant and harvest food, the way resources are distributed, and even how shelter is offered. It also applies to children, meaning, that like some sort of libertarian dream, these non-traditional family units must earn a banner in order to have a child. This banner signifies that this particular household is producing enough in order to allow for one more mouth to be fed.
Banners, given this setting, are of utmost importance. Families that accidentally have children outside of banners (accidentally: meaning, the mandatory birth control has failed) and those that do so on purpose (the female end of this equation has her birth control implant removed) are investigated. If they are found innocent of reproducing intentionally, allowances are made. However, if the child was conceived purposefully the house is broken up, redistributed, and shamed. Bannerless children are the bastards of this new society.
Enid is just such an investigator and along with her father-figure, Tomas, is sent to investigate the death of a man named Soros, a loner who was allegedly the child of a bannerless family. As Enid and Tomas investigate Soros' passing, the secrets of Soros' community start to unravel. The resentment of the community against Enid and Tomas runs high and the investigation becomes complicated, forcing Enid to wrestle with her past, the choices of the present, and the implications of both on her future.
This is the first in the series and is set up with a bit of a post-apocalyptic cozy-mystery feel. The communities on the Shore Road are tightly knit and the investigators are seen as the sign of that community's disruption. Vaughn does an admirable job of creating convincing characters one cannot help but hope that the strains of humor that made her previous serial heroine, Kitty Norville so relatable come into play for Enid, lending her the same affability. Even in a post-apocalyptic future where human beings are still susceptible to human vices, levity would not be remiss.
The rule of law seems simple - take only what you need. This of course, is reflected in the way that the farmers plant and harvest food, the way resources are distributed, and even how shelter is offered. It also applies to children, meaning, that like some sort of libertarian dream, these non-traditional family units must earn a banner in order to have a child. This banner signifies that this particular household is producing enough in order to allow for one more mouth to be fed.
Banners, given this setting, are of utmost importance. Families that accidentally have children outside of banners (accidentally: meaning, the mandatory birth control has failed) and those that do so on purpose (the female end of this equation has her birth control implant removed) are investigated. If they are found innocent of reproducing intentionally, allowances are made. However, if the child was conceived purposefully the house is broken up, redistributed, and shamed. Bannerless children are the bastards of this new society.
Enid is just such an investigator and along with her father-figure, Tomas, is sent to investigate the death of a man named Soros, a loner who was allegedly the child of a bannerless family. As Enid and Tomas investigate Soros' passing, the secrets of Soros' community start to unravel. The resentment of the community against Enid and Tomas runs high and the investigation becomes complicated, forcing Enid to wrestle with her past, the choices of the present, and the implications of both on her future.
This is the first in the series and is set up with a bit of a post-apocalyptic cozy-mystery feel. The communities on the Shore Road are tightly knit and the investigators are seen as the sign of that community's disruption. Vaughn does an admirable job of creating convincing characters one cannot help but hope that the strains of humor that made her previous serial heroine, Kitty Norville so relatable come into play for Enid, lending her the same affability. Even in a post-apocalyptic future where human beings are still susceptible to human vices, levity would not be remiss.
June 1, 2021
“You’re trying to save a world that went away a century ago.”
Had to force myself to finish. The premise was so blatantly ridiculous that I had to see if the author somehow saved it. She didn’t. The setting is a post-industrial, post-electrical, post-pharmaceutical, post-religious utopia a century after The Fall, which is the end of civilization as we (or at least Californians) know it. Except they still have solar cars and birth control implants. And a still? They miss plastic wrap? I’d miss antibiotics.
“Wouldn’t want anyone to get more than they deserved, because that was what doomed the old world.”
Villages of hundreds have replaced cities of millions, and everyone lives in hippy communes growing vegetables and weaving cloth. Community standards are enforced by gossip and “investigators,” constables who are judge, jury, and presumably executors. It’s all warm and fuzzy and smells aromatic. Except there’s this dead body.
“They were supposed to be better than that. Better than the old world.”
“Children are precious … you are willing to earn the right to bear a child of your own someday, and not leave it to chance.” Reminds me of Saudis, who tell us how much they honor women, as they treat them like property.
“If you could manage the birth rate, you could manage anything, and they had the stats to prove it.” Only if they invented them. With the lack of antibiotics and medicine, the death rate--especially the infant mortality rate--would skyrocket. Not only Dark Ages; look at the nineteenth century. Vaughn contrasts the homesteads with the single mother of three in the Ruins; invalid.
Quibbles: “Heard the [electric] car’s motor”? Resources scarce, yet they burn the dead on big, honking pyres. Salt harvested from dried lake beds might contain dangerous chemicals.
“We’re lucky we didn’t die.” “That’s what makes it an adventure.”
All that said, Vaughn is a good storyteller. Well-constructed, folded story line. Read this as fantasy and it’s almost enjoyable, just don’t expect it to make sense.
“The plan has to be for everyone or it fails; we all fail.”
Had to force myself to finish. The premise was so blatantly ridiculous that I had to see if the author somehow saved it. She didn’t. The setting is a post-industrial, post-electrical, post-pharmaceutical, post-religious utopia a century after The Fall, which is the end of civilization as we (or at least Californians) know it. Except they still have solar cars and birth control implants. And a still? They miss plastic wrap? I’d miss antibiotics.
“Wouldn’t want anyone to get more than they deserved, because that was what doomed the old world.”
Villages of hundreds have replaced cities of millions, and everyone lives in hippy communes growing vegetables and weaving cloth. Community standards are enforced by gossip and “investigators,” constables who are judge, jury, and presumably executors. It’s all warm and fuzzy and smells aromatic. Except there’s this dead body.
“They were supposed to be better than that. Better than the old world.”
“Children are precious … you are willing to earn the right to bear a child of your own someday, and not leave it to chance.” Reminds me of Saudis, who tell us how much they honor women, as they treat them like property.
“If you could manage the birth rate, you could manage anything, and they had the stats to prove it.” Only if they invented them. With the lack of antibiotics and medicine, the death rate--especially the infant mortality rate--would skyrocket. Not only Dark Ages; look at the nineteenth century. Vaughn contrasts the homesteads with the single mother of three in the Ruins; invalid.
Quibbles: “Heard the [electric] car’s motor”? Resources scarce, yet they burn the dead on big, honking pyres. Salt harvested from dried lake beds might contain dangerous chemicals.
“We’re lucky we didn’t die.” “That’s what makes it an adventure.”
All that said, Vaughn is a good storyteller. Well-constructed, folded story line. Read this as fantasy and it’s almost enjoyable, just don’t expect it to make sense.
“The plan has to be for everyone or it fails; we all fail.”
September 14, 2020
'Bannerless' by Carrie Vaughn, is a gentle, thoughtful, book that uses a murder mystery to tell the story of an Investigator's life and to display the post-apocalyptic community she was born into.
'Bannerless' is a book that's easy to under-estimate. It's not Hollywood Blockbuster material. It's quietly original and combines truth with hope. It sets aside all our post-apocalyptic dystopian tropes, most of which either mourn what was lost or try to revive it or revel in the chaos and cruelty of the new world. Carrie Vaughn gives us a different view, She lets us see the world after The Fall, through the eyes of Enid of Haven, a woman who was born after The Fall, for whom Before is a set of stories of wonders, nightmares and mistakes passed on in her childhood by the oldest among them. She comes from a generation with nothing to mourn. A generation for whom the world is not a dystopia but their home, a place to be cherished and enriched.
The book excels at showing rather than telling. Instead of infodumps or potted histories, we learn about this world by learning about Enid. Enid's story is told through two inter-cut timelines. In the main one, we see Enid in her early thirties, taking the lead in an Investigation for the first time after three years as an Investigator, supported by her mentor, a man she has known since childhood. In the secondary one, we see Enid in her teens, leaving home for the first time, to travel the Coast Road, the only human settlements within a thousand miles, to follow her first love, a charismatic bard, who takes his guitar and his voice and his wide smile from village to village where his arrival always triggers parties and celebrations.
Enid's work as an Investigator gives us a look at the underbelly of her society, at the things that aren't working and which people can't or won't fix for themselves but it also shows us the values the Investigators are upholding and the how these values change the way in which an investigation is done. This is a world where pride comes from forming a household that is productive and stable enough to earn a Banner that entitles that household to birth a child and where shame comes from Bannerless births or breaking quotas and growing or catching more than you need. It's a world that remembers billions of deaths as being caused by the unending pursuit of more and the prioritisation of me and now over us and the future. It's also a world were violence is uncommon and murder is almost unheard of,
As I watched Enid investigate a suspicious death, I was fascinated by how different her role is from our own police. Investigators aren't trying to wrangle the criminal herd, doing their best to enforce laws that are often broken and collecting evidence for others to decide guilt or innocence. They Investigate by consent. Their presence is requested. They Investigate to resolve disputes or to discover whether someone has done something that places their needs above the rules designed to allow everyone a sustainable opportunity to thrive. They are there to pass judgements against which there is no appeal. Yet, perhaps the biggest difference is that, when Enid asks her mentor for advice on how an Investigator should behave, his answer is 'Be kind'.
Inevitably, the investigation is shaped by Enid's own experience, which guides not only how she investigates but why she does so. The storyline that shows Enid in her teens gives us a view on how Enid became who she is as well as showing us the world she lives in. Her youthful passion for her travelling minstrel took her everywhere on the Coast Road, from prosperous settlements to settlements struggling to survive or settlements that chose to sit at the edges of the world, doing just enough to get by and then on to the ruins of an old city, reduced to rusted stumps of buildings and slabs of crumbling concrete where a small number of people scrabble for a living rather than accept the Banner-driven rules of the Coast Road settlements. Through all her travelling two things became clear about Enid, firstly, wherever she went, she felt the urge to held, to get involved, to fix things and secondly that she wanted to go home, to a place that was hers where she could be with people that she loves. In this way, Enid embodies the values the Coast Road is built on.
'Bannerless' gave me a character I believed in and liked, showed me that an apocalypse is not the end, that life will find a way if we let it, and that the next generation might not mess up a second chance. I liked that is showed the apocalypse,'The Fall', as something that had no definitive date but as something that happened slowly enough for us all to get used to it without being able to prevent it. The Fall and the creation of the Coast Road community that followed were made up of what one chapter calls 'The Things History May Not Remember', the personal tragedies that ended one way of life and sometimes led to the starting of another. That seems very real to me.
The only thing I didn't like about 'Bannerless' was the publisher's summary which seems to have been written by someone who either read a different book to me or had been hoping that Carrie Vaughn would give them an easy-to-sell-to-the-SyFy-Channel post-apocalyptic thriller. Here's the first paragraph of the summary. It's in bold type to let you know it's the pitch:
A mysterious murder in a dystopian future leads a novice investigator to question what she’s learned about the foundation of her population-controlled society.
'Bannerless' won the Philip K Dick Award in 2018. I think I think it's an excellent piece of speculative fiction as well as an intriguing mystery. I'll be reading the next mystery that Enid investigates in 'The Wild Dead' shortly.
'Bannerless' is a book that's easy to under-estimate. It's not Hollywood Blockbuster material. It's quietly original and combines truth with hope. It sets aside all our post-apocalyptic dystopian tropes, most of which either mourn what was lost or try to revive it or revel in the chaos and cruelty of the new world. Carrie Vaughn gives us a different view, She lets us see the world after The Fall, through the eyes of Enid of Haven, a woman who was born after The Fall, for whom Before is a set of stories of wonders, nightmares and mistakes passed on in her childhood by the oldest among them. She comes from a generation with nothing to mourn. A generation for whom the world is not a dystopia but their home, a place to be cherished and enriched.
The book excels at showing rather than telling. Instead of infodumps or potted histories, we learn about this world by learning about Enid. Enid's story is told through two inter-cut timelines. In the main one, we see Enid in her early thirties, taking the lead in an Investigation for the first time after three years as an Investigator, supported by her mentor, a man she has known since childhood. In the secondary one, we see Enid in her teens, leaving home for the first time, to travel the Coast Road, the only human settlements within a thousand miles, to follow her first love, a charismatic bard, who takes his guitar and his voice and his wide smile from village to village where his arrival always triggers parties and celebrations.
Enid's work as an Investigator gives us a look at the underbelly of her society, at the things that aren't working and which people can't or won't fix for themselves but it also shows us the values the Investigators are upholding and the how these values change the way in which an investigation is done. This is a world where pride comes from forming a household that is productive and stable enough to earn a Banner that entitles that household to birth a child and where shame comes from Bannerless births or breaking quotas and growing or catching more than you need. It's a world that remembers billions of deaths as being caused by the unending pursuit of more and the prioritisation of me and now over us and the future. It's also a world were violence is uncommon and murder is almost unheard of,
As I watched Enid investigate a suspicious death, I was fascinated by how different her role is from our own police. Investigators aren't trying to wrangle the criminal herd, doing their best to enforce laws that are often broken and collecting evidence for others to decide guilt or innocence. They Investigate by consent. Their presence is requested. They Investigate to resolve disputes or to discover whether someone has done something that places their needs above the rules designed to allow everyone a sustainable opportunity to thrive. They are there to pass judgements against which there is no appeal. Yet, perhaps the biggest difference is that, when Enid asks her mentor for advice on how an Investigator should behave, his answer is 'Be kind'.
Inevitably, the investigation is shaped by Enid's own experience, which guides not only how she investigates but why she does so. The storyline that shows Enid in her teens gives us a view on how Enid became who she is as well as showing us the world she lives in. Her youthful passion for her travelling minstrel took her everywhere on the Coast Road, from prosperous settlements to settlements struggling to survive or settlements that chose to sit at the edges of the world, doing just enough to get by and then on to the ruins of an old city, reduced to rusted stumps of buildings and slabs of crumbling concrete where a small number of people scrabble for a living rather than accept the Banner-driven rules of the Coast Road settlements. Through all her travelling two things became clear about Enid, firstly, wherever she went, she felt the urge to held, to get involved, to fix things and secondly that she wanted to go home, to a place that was hers where she could be with people that she loves. In this way, Enid embodies the values the Coast Road is built on.
'Bannerless' gave me a character I believed in and liked, showed me that an apocalypse is not the end, that life will find a way if we let it, and that the next generation might not mess up a second chance. I liked that is showed the apocalypse,'The Fall', as something that had no definitive date but as something that happened slowly enough for us all to get used to it without being able to prevent it. The Fall and the creation of the Coast Road community that followed were made up of what one chapter calls 'The Things History May Not Remember', the personal tragedies that ended one way of life and sometimes led to the starting of another. That seems very real to me.
The only thing I didn't like about 'Bannerless' was the publisher's summary which seems to have been written by someone who either read a different book to me or had been hoping that Carrie Vaughn would give them an easy-to-sell-to-the-SyFy-Channel post-apocalyptic thriller. Here's the first paragraph of the summary. It's in bold type to let you know it's the pitch:
A mysterious murder in a dystopian future leads a novice investigator to question what she’s learned about the foundation of her population-controlled society.
'Bannerless' won the Philip K Dick Award in 2018. I think I think it's an excellent piece of speculative fiction as well as an intriguing mystery. I'll be reading the next mystery that Enid investigates in 'The Wild Dead' shortly.
November 12, 2017
Carrie Vaughn’s “Bannerless” is a science fiction book of ideas. Ostensibly a mystery, this short novel is really an exploration of the ramifications of the effect of scarce resources on society. But unlike the summary on the cover of the book, the main character Enid, an “Investigator” does not expose cracks in foundation of the society. What she does is enforce the laws of this community run society. Essentially, the Investigators are judge, jury and enforcer of the Coast Road rules. They travel from town to town to make sure the Coast Road polities are obeyed. The most stringently enforced rules deal with over-consumption. After the “Fall”, the apocalyptic catastrophe that killed millions and decimated society two generations or so ago, the remaining people had to band together to make it.
Small communities sprung up and down the Coast Road, grew their own food, hunted or fished and made do with a small amount of technology that survived plus the books and treatises saved by the founders. Vaughn imagines that birth control would be one of the main technologies that would survive this catastrophe. The Coast Road society uses the ability to control birth and control population to ensure that the towns and households do not over consume scant resources. People are only allowed to have children (obtain a Banner) if the community or their household can show the ability to support more children. And people who get permission proudly display their banners.
Needless to say that if people try to illegally gain a child, the Investigators are quick to punish the household by either splitting them up or taking children away from their families and parents or punishing the community by banning children for a time. In Enid’s mind these transgressions should be punished severely. Several times Vaughn depicts Enid’s anger as an Investigator. Her fear of what happened before and her desire to not have it happen again.
The novel is split into two halves. Enid and Tomas, her co-Investigator, and mentor, have been called to Serenity, a small community down the Coast Road, where one of the citizens has died under suspicious circumstances. The only mystery is whether the man, who appears to be bannerless, that is born without permission of the Coast Road, and ostracized in Serenity fell or was pushed to his death. Although the “culprit” is easily identified early on, it is Enid’s investigation of the reasons for his death that is the key. Serenity is a town run by a counsel made up of Ariana, Philos and Lee, three heads of households in the town. Enid’s discovers that Ariana requested the investigation, but has ulterior purposes. Philos, who runs the Bounty household, has run roughshod over the town for a while and Ariana wants to take him down. But while Enid pursues her investigation, she runs into Dak, a troubadour that she had journeyed with in her youth.
This is the second part of the novel. In a series of timeline shifts, Vaughn skips back and forth from the present to the past. Enid tells of the time before she was an Investigator and went down the Coast Road, visiting various towns and making love with Dak, a sweet playing musician. Enid journey is both a journey of discovery of who she is and who Dak is, but also a reinforcement in many ways of the benefits of the Coast Road society rules. Enid discovers that she wants to be useful and stand on her own merits, while Dak is a little hollow at his core, and Enid discovers does not want to get involved with Investigators or society. His wandering ways are as much a part of his reaction to what happened to him as a kid as Enid strong center are hers. Enid will also run into people in an abandoned pre-fall city, where a woman with three malnourished children is surviving in a nomadic existence. This is a woman who will not accept the population controls of the Coast Road and telling says to Enid, that the Coast Road "takes your children away"
Enid and Tomas investigation of Serenity, Dak, Ariana and Philos will reveal the tensions in a society that values control of resources and rules against freedom to do what you will. In the end, greed and power are always a danger to societal rules.
The real question for the reader is whether Vaughn through Enid makes her point. Is the Coast Road’s society just. Can religiously controlling reproduction and resources ensure that a society can grow responsibly? The jury is out for this reader. But Enid is very convinced and diligently pursues punishment for the people who want to break her society’s rules.
Small communities sprung up and down the Coast Road, grew their own food, hunted or fished and made do with a small amount of technology that survived plus the books and treatises saved by the founders. Vaughn imagines that birth control would be one of the main technologies that would survive this catastrophe. The Coast Road society uses the ability to control birth and control population to ensure that the towns and households do not over consume scant resources. People are only allowed to have children (obtain a Banner) if the community or their household can show the ability to support more children. And people who get permission proudly display their banners.
Needless to say that if people try to illegally gain a child, the Investigators are quick to punish the household by either splitting them up or taking children away from their families and parents or punishing the community by banning children for a time. In Enid’s mind these transgressions should be punished severely. Several times Vaughn depicts Enid’s anger as an Investigator. Her fear of what happened before and her desire to not have it happen again.
The novel is split into two halves. Enid and Tomas, her co-Investigator, and mentor, have been called to Serenity, a small community down the Coast Road, where one of the citizens has died under suspicious circumstances. The only mystery is whether the man, who appears to be bannerless, that is born without permission of the Coast Road, and ostracized in Serenity fell or was pushed to his death. Although the “culprit” is easily identified early on, it is Enid’s investigation of the reasons for his death that is the key. Serenity is a town run by a counsel made up of Ariana, Philos and Lee, three heads of households in the town. Enid’s discovers that Ariana requested the investigation, but has ulterior purposes. Philos, who runs the Bounty household, has run roughshod over the town for a while and Ariana wants to take him down. But while Enid pursues her investigation, she runs into Dak, a troubadour that she had journeyed with in her youth.
This is the second part of the novel. In a series of timeline shifts, Vaughn skips back and forth from the present to the past. Enid tells of the time before she was an Investigator and went down the Coast Road, visiting various towns and making love with Dak, a sweet playing musician. Enid journey is both a journey of discovery of who she is and who Dak is, but also a reinforcement in many ways of the benefits of the Coast Road society rules. Enid discovers that she wants to be useful and stand on her own merits, while Dak is a little hollow at his core, and Enid discovers does not want to get involved with Investigators or society. His wandering ways are as much a part of his reaction to what happened to him as a kid as Enid strong center are hers. Enid will also run into people in an abandoned pre-fall city, where a woman with three malnourished children is surviving in a nomadic existence. This is a woman who will not accept the population controls of the Coast Road and telling says to Enid, that the Coast Road "takes your children away"
Enid and Tomas investigation of Serenity, Dak, Ariana and Philos will reveal the tensions in a society that values control of resources and rules against freedom to do what you will. In the end, greed and power are always a danger to societal rules.
The real question for the reader is whether Vaughn through Enid makes her point. Is the Coast Road’s society just. Can religiously controlling reproduction and resources ensure that a society can grow responsibly? The jury is out for this reader. But Enid is very convinced and diligently pursues punishment for the people who want to break her society’s rules.
October 28, 2018
2018 update: Re-read via audiobook, and loved it. Excellent narration, and the story is just as good as I'd remembered!
2017 original review: Bannerless is a unique and interesting approach to the dystopian genre. In fact, if you took away the references to "the Fall", you might almost think you were reading a story of agrarian life in the Middle Ages. Let me explain...
In Bannerless, we follow main character Enid, a resident of the town of Haven whose occupation is investigator. Investigators are both detectives and enforcers, sent from settlement to settlement to look into complaints, solve problems, and if needed, impose sentences. Investigators tend to be feared -- when these outsiders show up wearing their official brown tunics, it's likely to end in repercussions either for individuals, households, or possibly the entire town.
Enid's village lies among the geographic area known as the Coast Road, sets of smaller and larger settlements who interact for trading, messages, and resources. All follow the same general governing principles. The towns are primarily agrarian, and all members of a community have roles to play. Towns may only produce up to their quotas, so that resources are preserved for for the future. People form households to work together to show productivity, and if they prove that they can support more, they are awarded banners, which give them the right to have a child.
All in all, it sounds like a rather peaceful and healthy way to go about life. Community is all-important. People offer one another help when needed, and when help is provided, there's a commitment made to repay expended resources when the recipient is able.
As I mentioned, if you didn't know the setting, you might think this story takes place a few centuries ago. It has that old-fashioned, idyllic feel to it. But we do know that there was a Fall -- and while the author doesn't go into tremendous detail, it becomes clear that civilization fell over the course of years in which the world was devasted by epidemics, followed by substantial climate change that brought life-threatening changes in weather patterns. Enid's adult life takes place about a century after the Fall, and she still remembers her Aunt Kath, who was the oldest member of Haven and the only one to remember the time before. From Kath, Enid learns about how life used to be, from silly details (like a yearning for plastic wrap) to issues around birth control and reproduction.
In terms of the plot of Bannerless, we follow two timelines in alternating chapters. We see Enid and her investigator partner Tomas, a member of her birth household, as they investigate a suspicious death in the nearby town of Pasadan. This in itself is shocking -- while their investigations mainly focus on banner or quota violations, murder is pretty much unheard of. Meanwhile, in every other chapter, we follow the story of Enid from about 10 years earlier, when she followed her lover on his journeys from town to town, and along the way, learns much more about the communities, the ruins of cities, and her own calling.
What's unusual about Bannerless, and what makes me hesitate to call it "dystopian", is that the societal structure seems to work. There are no castes or debasing rules or the other types of harsh governance that seem to be the hallmark of the genre. Yes, the story takes place in a post-apocalyptic world, but the people seem to have worked out a system that makes sense for them. The rules about banners and birth control don't strike me as autocratic or despotic; they go hand in hand with the focus on resources and quotas. The communities bear an awareness of the disasters that led to civilization's downfall, and they're determined to avoid the excesses that result in barren lands and starving children.
And while Enid and others occasionally yearn for the resources they've heard about through stories about life before the Fall (medical equipment and reliable lab tests, for example), they've found a way to manage and preserve what they have, to share and take communal responsibility for one another, and to sustain future generations by conserving current resources.
Yes, the breaking up of households who flout the rules may sound harsh, but there's a lot of reasonableness too. Of all the various fictional scenarios of life post-disaster, the world of Bannerless sounds pretty okay to me.
The book itself is a quick, engaging read. Don't expect explosions or intense battles or action scenes. The drama is all about the people, their interactions, and their motives -- although this book does a great job of demonstrating how scary it can be to be caught out in the open when a storm is on the way.
According to the author's page on Goodreads, she's working on a sequel, and Bannerless is listed as the first in a series. I had no idea while I was reading the book that this would be an ongoing story, and Bannerless works perfectly well as a stand-alone. (I'm glad I didn't know ahead of time; I tend to avoid starting new series, and I'd hate to think that I might have missed out on a good book because of my series-aversion!)
I've enjoyed other books and stories by Carrie Vaughn (although I haven't read her Kitty Norville series, which seems to be her best-known work), and I will definitely read the 2nd book whenever it comes out.
2017 original review: Bannerless is a unique and interesting approach to the dystopian genre. In fact, if you took away the references to "the Fall", you might almost think you were reading a story of agrarian life in the Middle Ages. Let me explain...
In Bannerless, we follow main character Enid, a resident of the town of Haven whose occupation is investigator. Investigators are both detectives and enforcers, sent from settlement to settlement to look into complaints, solve problems, and if needed, impose sentences. Investigators tend to be feared -- when these outsiders show up wearing their official brown tunics, it's likely to end in repercussions either for individuals, households, or possibly the entire town.
Enid's village lies among the geographic area known as the Coast Road, sets of smaller and larger settlements who interact for trading, messages, and resources. All follow the same general governing principles. The towns are primarily agrarian, and all members of a community have roles to play. Towns may only produce up to their quotas, so that resources are preserved for for the future. People form households to work together to show productivity, and if they prove that they can support more, they are awarded banners, which give them the right to have a child.
All in all, it sounds like a rather peaceful and healthy way to go about life. Community is all-important. People offer one another help when needed, and when help is provided, there's a commitment made to repay expended resources when the recipient is able.
As I mentioned, if you didn't know the setting, you might think this story takes place a few centuries ago. It has that old-fashioned, idyllic feel to it. But we do know that there was a Fall -- and while the author doesn't go into tremendous detail, it becomes clear that civilization fell over the course of years in which the world was devasted by epidemics, followed by substantial climate change that brought life-threatening changes in weather patterns. Enid's adult life takes place about a century after the Fall, and she still remembers her Aunt Kath, who was the oldest member of Haven and the only one to remember the time before. From Kath, Enid learns about how life used to be, from silly details (like a yearning for plastic wrap) to issues around birth control and reproduction.
In terms of the plot of Bannerless, we follow two timelines in alternating chapters. We see Enid and her investigator partner Tomas, a member of her birth household, as they investigate a suspicious death in the nearby town of Pasadan. This in itself is shocking -- while their investigations mainly focus on banner or quota violations, murder is pretty much unheard of. Meanwhile, in every other chapter, we follow the story of Enid from about 10 years earlier, when she followed her lover on his journeys from town to town, and along the way, learns much more about the communities, the ruins of cities, and her own calling.
What's unusual about Bannerless, and what makes me hesitate to call it "dystopian", is that the societal structure seems to work. There are no castes or debasing rules or the other types of harsh governance that seem to be the hallmark of the genre. Yes, the story takes place in a post-apocalyptic world, but the people seem to have worked out a system that makes sense for them. The rules about banners and birth control don't strike me as autocratic or despotic; they go hand in hand with the focus on resources and quotas. The communities bear an awareness of the disasters that led to civilization's downfall, and they're determined to avoid the excesses that result in barren lands and starving children.
And while Enid and others occasionally yearn for the resources they've heard about through stories about life before the Fall (medical equipment and reliable lab tests, for example), they've found a way to manage and preserve what they have, to share and take communal responsibility for one another, and to sustain future generations by conserving current resources.
Yes, the breaking up of households who flout the rules may sound harsh, but there's a lot of reasonableness too. Of all the various fictional scenarios of life post-disaster, the world of Bannerless sounds pretty okay to me.
The book itself is a quick, engaging read. Don't expect explosions or intense battles or action scenes. The drama is all about the people, their interactions, and their motives -- although this book does a great job of demonstrating how scary it can be to be caught out in the open when a storm is on the way.
According to the author's page on Goodreads, she's working on a sequel, and Bannerless is listed as the first in a series. I had no idea while I was reading the book that this would be an ongoing story, and Bannerless works perfectly well as a stand-alone. (I'm glad I didn't know ahead of time; I tend to avoid starting new series, and I'd hate to think that I might have missed out on a good book because of my series-aversion!)
I've enjoyed other books and stories by Carrie Vaughn (although I haven't read her Kitty Norville series, which seems to be her best-known work), and I will definitely read the 2nd book whenever it comes out.
Want to read
May 19, 2017Note to self: Not a description that would usually appeal but just read short story by the same name in Dozois' Year's Best 33 featuring Enid and really liked her. But she was old and about to retire.
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