1989
Awards:
Hugo, Locus
Rating:
★ ★ ★
★ –
The Story
Hyperion is the
first book in what eventually became a four-part series called the Hyperion Cantos. It is set in the distant future, at a time when humans have settled far and wide throughout the galaxy.
The
most powerful political entity in the universe of Hyperion is the Hegemony, which governs a large number of technologically
advanced member planets. Hegemony worlds are connected by faster-than-light
communication and space travel, as well as instantaneous Star-Trek-transporter-like
portals called “farcasters.” This planetary information and transportation
network is referred to as the “WorldWeb.”
Outside
the Hegemony are a number of remote, inhabited planets that aren’t connected to
the others by farcaster. Even with FTL travel it still takes
years to get to them, which discourages visitors, colonists, and commerce. Some
of the inhabitants of these planets like it this way.
One
of these remote planets is called Hyperion. Hyperion is home only to a small
number of indigenous people, archaeologists, exiles, and missionaries. It is sparsely
populated not only because it is physically distant and technologically isolated,
but also because it is the home of the Shrike: a terrifyingly huge homicidal monster,
basically humanoid in form except that it has four arms and metallic spikes
poking out all over its body.
Most
people are terrified of the Shrike. Some have formed a religion around it and
the places it frequents—particularly the mysterious Time Tombs of Hyperion.
The
strange thing is that it turns out that none of the pilgrims are members of
the Shrike church. And they come from a weird range of professions: priest, poet,
scholar, soldier, detective, ship captain, diplomat. But their stories reveal
that they each have a strong reason for being on the pilgrimage and for confronting
the Shrike.
Respect for the Past
Hyperion is consciously
modeled on the Canterbury Tales, Chaucer’s
novel about pilgrims telling stories to each other on the way to Canterbury
Cathedral, which I have to admit I didn’t really like when I read it in school.
But the tales told by the Hyperion pilgrims are really good. They are varied
and unique, and several are told in radically different styles, reflecting the
very different voices of their tellers.
The
scholar’s story, for example, is very sad. His beloved only daughter was an
accomplished archaeologist working on her dream site in the Time Tombs on
Hyperion. But during an accident in the Tombs she caught an affliction that
caused her to age backwards. The scholar has had to watch her regress painfully
from brilliant scientist back to childhood; by the time he is picked to go on
the pilgrimage, she is an infant. His story moves all the other pilgrims, and
he uses it to raise bigger existential questions, almost like a bible lesson or
philosophical exercise.
This
stands in contrast to the detective’s story, which is like a gritty noir
mystery except with the gender roles reversed. The scotch-drinking (female)
detective is world-wise and tough, ogling the beautiful (male) client who walks
into her office one day to hire her. Her story is almost a mini Neuromancer, a
cyber-piracy adventure involving artificial intelligence and cyber-cowboys and
a heady trip through the virtual “DataSphere.” It pays deliberate homage mainly
to Raymond Chandler and William Gibson, but also to Philip K. Dick, Aldus Huxley,
and Arthur Conan Doyle.
Creativity and Foresight for the Future
And,
unlike Vernor Vinge, he really explores his ideas, fully integrates them into his story, and then wraps them up nicely before moving on to the next, so
you don’t feel like you’re being blasted with an undeveloped-idea firehose.
One
of my favorite of Simmons’ environmental inventions is the flame forest of
Hyperion. This forest is full of tall
mushroom-shaped trees that, under the proper conditions, become giant lightning
rods bursting with lethal zaps of electricity, turning everything in their
entire area into smoldering cinders. This deadly forest is used to great effect
both at the beginning and the end of the priest’s tale.
Simmons also appears to be pretty foresighted in certain areas. In
the poet’s story, for example, he experiences the sense of hopelessness and ennui that can
come from being constantly plugged in to political minutiae through intrusive, omnipresent
communication technology that we didn't even have yet in 1989.
The
poet is also disappointed when the TechnoCore (the collection of artificial
intelligences in the Hegemony) loves his latest epic poem, but doesn’t buy any
copies, and his agent points out that “copyright means nothing when dealing
with silicon.” She says that the first AI who read it probably downloaded it
and shared it instantly with all the others via the WorldWeb network. I don’t know how
many other people were thinking about this on such a big scale back then.
And
keep in mind, also, that Simmons was writing about his “WorldWeb” network of cyber-connected
planets and computers at a time when the World Wide Web was barely a glimmer in
Tim Berners-Lee’s eye.
The Down Side
There
are some down sides to this novel, unfortunately. For one thing, there is only
one female character of any importance, and she is deliberately modeled after male predecessors. The other women who show up in the book are dominatrices, character-less wives, or idealized lovers waiting patiently for their men to return.
Simmons’ writing also has a tendency to get overly long, romantic,
dreamy, and obscure. I’ll have to admit I skipped some of the more overwritten
parts and that I found the consul’s story—one of the most important ones for
the Shrike story—pretty confusing.
But
I still think I want to read the next one (Fall
of Hyperion) to find out what happens to some of the characters. And to see
what more new cool landscapes and life forms Simmons will invent.
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