I finished
Filaria a few days ago -- a very nice piece of work, Mr. Hayward!
danielausema wrote:
I enjoyed how the four story-lines slid past each other, how they complemented each other without ever fully touching.
Yes, this was fun -- the thrill of recognition at seeing a name we know (Crystal Max, Ensign Conway, etc.) in an unexpected place. It gave the setting a sense of large and yet managed scale: of a network that can't quite connect; of enormity that, several generations in, had devolved to become a matter of degrees of separation for everyone in the complex. The structure did a very nice job of supporting the book's themes.
It was also fun how the reappearances of characters caused us to reinterpret their character and actions: like how Deidre imagines Ensign Conway as a heroic figure in uniform and hopes people like him will rescue her (careful what you wish for!), or the Orchard Keeper sending away his family, we initially think, because he's worried for their safety.
danielausema wrote:
Tran so, to me, seemed primarily to be a vehicle to show the decline of the place rather than a compelling story in his own right. That was fine for his parts in the story individually--I think the entropy of it was fascinating thematic aspect of the story, and it was good to get a broader sense of how everything was falling apart--but it made ending with him feel anti-climatic.
That's interesting, because I would have said this about Mereziah; I thought Tran so was the most interesting character of the four. Maybe because Tran so seemed to have the most agency, the most willingness to confront his world? This led him to also have what were my favorite scenes in the book: the whole business with the crab; with Simon in the nostalgia suites (just a wonderful scene of two characters talking past each other); and I really liked his ending scene, it was such an absurdly minor and fleeting, yet personally significant, victory amidst all the chaos. This seemed to fit into one of the story's themes, that all of our victories against entropy are temporary ones. (But we're human, so we keep fighting.)
Mereziah on the other hand...well, it was his job as lift attendant to help people get from one place to another, and that's basically what he does in the book.
danielausema wrote:
I suspect that adding anything to the end--a coda or an additional chapter from one or several characters--would have pleased a certain type of reader, but would have felt awkward to me.
Agreed.
danielausema wrote:
None of the story-lines really ended conclusively, though some more than others. And I think that might add to your sense, Matt, of it more as a showcase of the setting than a story in its own right. At least if we think of story as primarily character-focused. If we think of story as a playing out of a theme, then I think this holds together nicely. It doesn't resolve, but it's not in that frustrating, merely loose-ends way but rather in the way a challenging work lingers, inviting you to keep its images and themes fresh in your mind after you're done.
Agreed again. It worked out better as a story than I had feared it might from reading the sample chapters; the storytelling structures (and larger plot) that helped it work weren't apparent to me from those three initial sections. It's a story of the setting, yes, and of humanity by association to that setting, as its creators, inhabitants, and destroyers. In that sense, the story resolves as much as it needs to for me to be satisfied.
danielausema wrote:
I'm not going to rush out and recommend it to everyone I know, but I do think it's a book that deserves and earns attention and discussion.
I can definitely imagine many people enjoying it. It reminded me a lot of Wolfe's Long Sun series, although without the same array of thematic depths and references as those books. Probably the best comparison is the one you made originally, with Veniss Underground, because Filaria's strengths also seem to be ones of structure, prose, and setting in conveying atmosphere.
Also,
Brent H wrote:
I would say that the book is not horror, for starters, though there are some creepy moments, I'd like to think.
I can see why people would call it horror, although certainly not in the splatter/torture porn b-movie sense of the word. There's the atmosphere, that (to continue the movie metaphor) puts it in the SF-horror hybrid realm of the first Alien movie, or Pitch Black. There's Cynthia, who seems a vampire-like horror figure. But more than anything, Deidre's segment of the story seems to me to read better as horror than as SF. In a "pure" SF story, we'd expect the coming humans to focus on a logical plan to save people en mass, to maximize the benefit to their gene pool. But with them (and the story) focusing so closely on Deidre, her healing, entrapping her naked in a garden of Eden while ogling her "physical perfection," sexualizing her plight now after her previous story segment with Mingh straw, the reader is forced to concentrate on the horror of her situation as an individual and what her role will be. That moment of recognizing a hostile truth about the universe -- in this case that our species' implacable drive to survive is often destructive to individuals and their wants and hopes, their plans and dreams -- is a signature technique of horror, because it's going for affect rather than rational comprehensiveness.
Which isn't to say that the book
is horror, but that I found horror to be one of several useful lenses by which to read it.
MattD