Grumped

I’ve been getting really splendid reviews for Implied Spaces, and it may seems ungrateful of me to quibble with some minor aspects of what are otherwise terrific notices. But that’s exactly what I’m going to do— and I’d like to think I’m not acting entirely out of ego (though of course I am), but out of an objectively virtuous attempt to set the history straight.

Here’s a quote from one (otherwise delightfully positive) review: “He [that would be me] is playing with a fairly familiar set of SF tropes . . . Implied Spaces is very much mature SF, building on the ideas the field has been addressing in the past decade or more.”

And, from another splendidly positive review: “There is little in Implied Spaces that will surprise readers acquainted with the post-human space operas of Iain M. Banks, John C. Wright, Peter Hamilton and others of their ilk …”

Do I detect a theme here? The notion that, perhaps, Implied Spaces is treading on ground pioneered by other writers?

Again I hate to quibble, but may I respectfully point out that I’ve been on this ground for over twenty years? Hardwired (1986) dealt with immortality via transfer into new bodies, and it and its sequel “Solip:System” (1989) featured reprogramming the human brain to create new allegiances. “Flatline” (1988) was about nanotechnology and vast, inhuman artificial intelligence. “Dinosaurs” (also 1988) dealt with posthumanity, and was nominated for Nebula and Hugo awards. Aristoi (1992) was New Space Opera before New Space Opera had a name. “Lethe” (1997) concerned itself with immortality, space travel, and the process of history.

The whole creating-universes thing is pretty much mine, though I suppose it may lean on the last scene of the final Cities in Flight novel.

What I’m outright stealing is the Singularity, or at least my version of it, but Vernor seems to think that’s pretty cool, and I reference Vernor anyway. And besides, after a thing’s been in the literature for twenty years, it’s fair game.

So there’s my grump for the day, for all that I feel like I’m banging my cane on the boarding house porch as I complain about how the younger generation don’t know nothing, anymore.

Learn your history! Dammit.