This is the third installment of a series on lesser-known books conservatives should know about. First, we did thrillers, then fantasy, and now we’re taking a look at science fiction. Last time, I complained that fantasy books were too long. This time, two out of my three entries are book-bricks. What can I say? At base, I’m a science fiction kind of guy.
“Red State Mars” by Travis Corcoran
In 2126, a settled Mars is divided between Chinese and American domes, which have amicable trading relations until the Chinese government goes all in on caste-producing genetic engineering and changes its laissez-faire policy toward Chinese Martian colonists who fled Earth to avoid such enhancement. Wouldn’t you know it? The new regime gets heavy-handed with the American colonists too, and suddenly there’s a shooting war that, if it doesn’t kill the colonists off entirely, might just shake up their whole political situation.
We’ve seen future wars aplenty, but Travis Corcoran’s take is inspired by “Albion’s Seed,” which points out the different contributions made to America by the Cavaliers, Puritans, Scots-Irish, and Quakers. “Red State Mars” uses that lens as well as that of neoreactionary thought (religious theonomists, nationalist ethnats, and building-minded techno-commercialists) to bump different kinds of right-wingers up against each other, getting frustrated with one another in ways that feel familiar to anyone who’s spent time in or paying attention to conservative subcultures from fringe to mainstream.
Most science fiction books are painfully naive about politics and the difficulties of trying to get a group of people to agree on anything at all. But Travis Corcoran isn’t just an author: he’s an elected official who knows those challenges all too well and builds tension with the heroes carefully watching who’s talking to whom to figure out how a vote may go. And as for the battle scenes, there are some terrific fights on the ground and in space, climaxing with perhaps the most audacious attack you’ll read in a novel this year and a thoroughly satisfying conclusion.
Travis Corcoran is a friend, close enough that it feels weird calling him “Corcoran” as a reviewer does, and he knows his limitations as an author. So he won’t mind my calling out a few. One is that while the voices of his family-linked factions are clearly drawn and distinguished, many individuals within those factions are less so. This is most notable with the rambunctious Atkins clan, who all speak with the same voice. There’s one notable bit of set-up and payoff that doesn’t quite work (the bad guys are caught trying to do something sneaky, so you expect this to be somehow turned back on the bad guys, except the bad guys get away with it later anyway). Also, while he can write the heck out of engineering plot lines or a procedural manual for a hobby farm (see his homesteading manual “Escape the City”), you are not looking for stirring prose in a Travis Corcoran novel except in the form of musings on Martian geology. (Spoiler: There are musings on Martian geology.)
But will you be dissuaded by that? No, you will not, and you shouldn’t be. Travis Corcoran’s “Red State Mars” brings to mind the early works of science fiction writer Robert A. Heinlein, and that’s an itch that’s hard to scratch these days. There’s a promised sequel or two in the works, but “Red State Mars” stands well on its own. And I’d be remiss if I didn’t note that Ark Press’s hardcover, of which I was sent a review copy, is an absolutely gorgeous bit of production: great cover, fantastic dust jacket, and terrific endpaper maps in a package to delight the hand and eye.
“Theft of Fire” by Devon Eriksen
If “Red State Mars” is early Heinlein, “Theft of Fire” is late Heinlein: goofier, more emotional, and hornier. The premise is simple: Genetically engineered anime girl ice princess Miranda Foxgrove, desperate to make her own mark and distinguish herself from her wealthy family, shanghais a ship belonging to asteroid miner Marcus Warnoc, who is vulnerable to a hostile takeover because, strapped for funds, he has descended into piracy. Her goal: force him to take her to a space discovery that she expects to change everything. Will these two crazy kids butt heads but eventually appreciate each other? Will they! Does the ice princess melt and the crusty miner soften as they find new footing with each other and with the mysterious cargo she smuggled aboard? Do they! Does the genetically engineered anime girl need help getting into and out of her skin-tight space suit? Does she ever!
“Theft of Fire” is essentially a book in two acts. The first is a lengthy stage play about two characters butting heads in a spaceship while they negotiate their social situation. The second is an action-packed chase and fight; much of it involves the arduousness of extended travel under high-g acceleration. Eriksen takes a lot of care to show off his characters’ personalities and give his protagonist a variety of small-scale objectives, which keeps the power dynamic and the evolution of the characters’ relationship in steady motion. The structure is a bit clunky; the first act runs long, and the second act feels a trifle padded because the nature of the situation means there are limits to how much evolution Eriksen can provide.
The ending provides a meaningful conclusion for its characters but doesn’t deliver the satisfaction readers want, leaving several threads dangling for a promised sequel (“Box of Trouble,” delayed by a family health crisis but reportedly well on the road to completion). As the Hugo- and Dragon- nominated author Kit Sun Cheah fairly noted, the book’s generally hard science softens selectively for dramatic purposes, meaning that it operates on the level of a mostly but not overly realistic TV series.
But that’s still a solid space to operate in, and on a scene-by-scene level, Eriksen writes his tail off. “Theft of Fire” got readers’ attention from heavy social media promotion and an indefatigable spousal marketing campaign, but it kept them because Devon Eriksen can build tension, create suspense, and write an enjoyable conversation. His characters have strong, distinctive voices. They feel alive and colorful. Maybe there are too many negotiation scenes, but most of them are quite fun. Maybe there’s too much banter, but it’s entertaining. The excess is sufficiently enjoyable that one can see how it would be hard to cut. Devon Eriksen starts from a much, much stronger place than almost all other first-time authors. It’s hard to see him not getting better from here.
“Legionnaire” by Jason Anspach and Nick Cole
Several people recommended I review this one or another by the same authors. I’ll be honest: I was reluctant. The advertising copy I had seen excitedly billed each installment in this book’s now-25-book-long series as an essential part of an interconnected whole, which made it sound like work (“Want to read our book? You’ll have to read 25 books!”). Also, I’d bounced off their military-vs-fantasy-creatures series starter “Forgotten Ruin,” which many people like, but I found too padded and repetitive.
But “Legionnaire” was a pleasant surprise: It’s a zippy little war-on-terrorism-inspired future war tale that sees a bunch of legionnaires on the ground in hostile territory trying to accomplish a mission that’s not been particularly well-thought-out by their chain of command. When things go awry, a violent attrition of manpower renders the protagonist abruptly in charge in the face of a rapidly unraveling tactical situation and internal wrangling from an infuriating political officer who claims that he was actually put in charge (these claims aren’t exactly accurate). The combat action plays well, and amid the action and adventure, Anspach and Cole turn both an appreciative and a jaundiced eye on the legion itself: the honor of the service, the regret that it’s often not actually in service of all that much, and the doomed sense that those who serve will serve anyway.
“Legionnaire” isn’t groundbreaking, but that’s fine. The ending drags; while it’s supposed to be an exciting tale that entices you to get the next book, it suffers from its framing as a story told by an old legionnaire in a bar. But “Legionnaire” is a perfectly good hammock read, and if you like it, look up other people’s favorites in the series to see the next book you should try.
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David Hines has a background in forensic science and international human rights, has written for the Federalist and the American Conservative, and loves books. Possibly even yours.
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