At the high school I attended, there were a few English teachers. But two in particular stood out and formed an interesting dichotomy.
One was fairly open-minded when it came to what students could read for their reports and essays. The other staunchly refused to let any student read genre fiction for any work in her courses. She dismissed it all as childish and immature. And, I think she has a pretty good point there.
How often, even before the YA publishing boom of the 2000s that has carried that label through to today, are the protagonists in genre fiction children or teens who do dumb stuff but save the day/the world/their home anyway? If there is one trope that no genre fiction seems to be complete without it’s the coming of age story. And I think that my anti-genre fiction English teacher was acutely aware of that, but also blinded by her loathing of it. Because there are definitely stories that blur that line between genre and literary fiction.
Now, Beholder’s Eye isn’t likely to win Julie E. Czerneda the Nobel Prize for literature. But it is a fantastic example of a literary treatment of a genre fiction coming of age story. The main character, Esen, is the youngest of a small species of shapeshifting aliens who study the species of the universe to store and preserve their cultures before they die out entirely. She is off on her first mission when the book starts and by book’s end she’s cultivated the internal resources to go off on her own and start her own branch of her species after dealing with a universe-ending threat. But, being a shapeshifter whose default shape is never really explained clearly, her age hardly matters (until one of the more poignant little events at the book’s end).
That no doubt sounds wonderful! It certainly intrigued me enough to read this book when I only knew the half of the story given in the blurb on the back of the book!
But the catch is that, for some strange reason, the story begins in the present, jumps back to the past for almost a hundred pages, and then returns to the present and carries forward. Not being a book about time travel, this structural choice disoriented me when I started reading. But the idea of Esen’s species and the other species and worlds that Czerneda sketched intrigued me enough to keep me reading.
Perhaps, though, since I’ve read far more fantasy than sci-fi and have noticed that individuals working for themselves or as representatives of a greater cause seems to be a bit more of a fantasy trope than a general sci-fi one, I also kept on with this book because Esen herself presents a very interesting character to watch. I mean, being a rookie is a really relatable trait, and add onto that her preference for wits over strength and she becomes very interesting as she slips out of pinch after pinch thanks to a keen sense of observation and her scattered knowledge of the universe. It’s all the more interesting when the story’s main human character Paul Ragem joins her.
Both of these figures play off of each other excellently. And the friendship that buds between them expresses a lot of hope and brightness around positive relationships formed between very different beings. Yes, themes of friendship and diversity are definitely present here. So much so that I might’ve dropped a few tears onto the final few pages of this one if I hadn’t been careful about keeping the book away from the splash zone.
But ultimately, despite the worlds Czerneda takes us to (a planet of anthropomorphic bees that’s run like a hive, or a world with an ever-changing theocracy that is on the verge of total collapse) and the aliens we encounter along the way (a matriarchal and Minotaur-like species of mercenaries, or the completely tactile-focused Ket), the flash and bang of this book is in these universe-building elements rather than where the story ends up. As much as it’s a book about friendship and learning about how it plays into maturing, it’s also very much a book that’s more about the journey than the destination. And, when the climax comes, there is no earth-shattering kaboom as might be expected for space-faring sci-fi but more of a strategic zap instead.
After all the mentions of Confederation this and spaceship blaster tech that and questions of how to even destroy members of Esen’s species, her method for dealing with a great (if largely mysterious and unknown to most but her and maybe a dozen humans) threat to the whole universe involves no such thing. Hers is a clever solution, but I found it unsatisfying. After writing about so many jams and close calls, Esen’s final plan A works without a hitch (except for some short term hurt feelings), and the universe is saved, and she is able to go off on her own. The book’s final pages still do the character work to wring out a few tears and sniffles and that final little blush after a good book’s been read, but the plot itself seems to lack another great genre trope: the final flashy showdown.
Despite this lack, I still recommend this book to anyone looking to bring some Canadian sci-fi onto their reading list, or anyone looking for great examples of how to quickly build out various worlds. It’s a fun read after those first hundred pages and the last few deliver a few hits to the feels, but in the end it’s like a peanut butter cup where the ratio is off: I came away with so much more of the literary taste of velvety dark chocolate on my tongue than that of satisfyingly dense peanut butter.
But perhaps this was just a warm up for the rest of the Web Shifters trilogy and I will find better balances in the other two books. 3.5 stars.