Flash Fiction Archive

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Classic Fiction Friday: Joe Haldeman’s Four Short Novels

The Allegory of Immortality by Giulio Romano

“Eventually it came to pass that no one ever had to die…” These words preface each section of Joe Haldeman’s Four Short Novels. The nomenclature, however, is a little deceptive. Weighing in at just under three thousand words, Four Short Novels is much more a unique experiment in writing than anything that resembles one let alone four novels.

Though I’m loath to reduce things to general labels, attempting to do so proves helpful in framing the strength of this particular “story”. Let’s begin with what it is not. Four Short Novels is neither a novel (obvious), nor is it a short story. It might be the right length to fit into the latter’s definition, but there are four complete, distinct, and separate narratives within the text. For the purposes of this review, I’m going to call Four Short Novels a mirco-anthology of flash fiction.

Each of the pieces within FSN explores immortality under a specific lens. In the first section immortality is a business arrangement: become an expert in a field, sell your knowledge to another so that you might raise a million dollars, and then have Immortality, Incorporated turn back the clock on your life. The second piece examines crime in a peaceful utopia where clones and consciousness downloading eradicates permanent death. In the third story Haldeman speaks on the practical issues of war with an immortal population. And finally, FSN crafts an Earth where death never visits a person so long as they are loved.

Read on their own, each of the flash pieces within FSN are good but nothing spectacular. In typical Haldeman fashion the long-term forecast for humanity is somewhat bleak. There’s also a clear message to each story, which at some points seems almost too heavy handed and obvious. I suspect, however, that this is an intentional move on the part of the author. During the “novel” subtitled “War and Peace” the narrator makes a direct reference to Homer. Consider that The Iliad, as a whole, presents the Trojan War with all the glorious ambiguities that make up the human experience. The individual books of the Iliad, much like each section of FSN, are somewhat more cut and dry: Paris thinks with his hormones; Hector is never quite smart enough. Much like Achilles, the central character to the fourth “novel” misanthropically removes himself from society before ultimately demonstrating he is the only individual capable of character growth.

Of course, if you’re not a huge classics nerd, then the “novels” are probably going to seem a little too much like morality plays.

What binds these stories together is the way in which each exaggerated element of humanity in the throes of immortality comes together to reflect on the current (circa 2000 when the story was published) state of mortal affairs. Therein Mr. Haldeman presents us as a people bound by capitalism yet still undaunted in our limitless ambition. When that drive pairs with essential human flaws and failings, our species is presented with several possible futures. One such eventuality sees humanity destroying itself out of sheer ennui and boredom. How’s that for a critique on North American ethos in the post-Seinfeld Clinton years? Another option sees humanity buckling under the burden of knowledge, reverting to a place of ignorance and innocent bliss. Climate change deniers take note of that theme. When the third way between these two extremes is propping up a system that maintains the status quo, FSN offers a rejection of the entire structure wherein humanity’s only way to thrive is for people to find a reason to live for each other.

In that, Four Short Novels opts for an ending that could easily be construed as cheese, and perhaps it is a little cheesy to say that love conquers all. Still, the deeper message, that living for ourselves within in a faux-meritocracy will ultimately lead to either self-destruction, infinite regression, or stagnation, is a poignant one.

Beyond the subtext, which arguably does require readers to shed a bit more cognitive dissonances than is standard for short fiction, the structure of the story is both classic and innovative. Four Short Novels is worth reading if only to see how one of science fiction’s titans subverts the norms of the short story.

Four Short Novels was originally published in 2000 in the Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction.

You can read it for free at Lightspeed Magazine.


5

Short Story Review: Ascension

Summary Judgement:  A fantastic piece of flash fiction that subverts the tropes of the zombie apocalypse while exploring a disquieting vision of a post-human future.

Story by: Matt Moore

*Minor Spoiler Warning*

What to say about Ascension? I suppose I could come out and say that it is the best piece of horror fiction that I’ve ever read.  Although, I’ve been told that a good reviewer is never supposed to be so direct in their praise as it may come off as being too obsequious.  But when a story works as well as this one does, there’s really no need to be circuitous with the praise.

Ascension beings amid an outbreak of zombification.  The nameless narrator introduces readers to a description of chaos in the form of shambling bodies, panicked onlookers and feasting un-dead.  In that sense, it is everything that I would expect from a thoughtful piece of zombie fiction.  Mr. Moore, having thoroughly convinced me that I was sailing in familiar waters, then fired a broadside wherein the narrator, who I assumed to be a survivor, was actually in the midst of transforming into a zombie.  That is where the fun begins.

While zombie-like in their desire to feast upon the flesh of others, Matt Moore’s zombies retain aspects of their individual self.  Moreover, a shared consciousness emerges among the zombies.  It’s the sort of idea that would have Carl Jung wetting himself as he ran for the safety of the Swiss Alps.

Save for the flesh eating, Moore’s creations seem more like a “bio-Borg” than traditional Romero zombies.  Moore’s creatures are living dead rather than simple walking dead.  On that note the story forces me to consider questions of zombie sociology, perhaps even zombie religion.  The question begs to be asked, has Matt Moore created something that is genuinely new?  I’m too much of a horror neophyte to say that it has never been done before, but it certainly hasn’t been seen within the last twenty-five years of popular culture.  Even when depicted in Max Brooks’ World War Z, a novel that I consider a high water mark for horror, zombies are things to be killed, not studied and certainly not treated as something post-human.  The very notion of zombification as evolution is utterly creepy, but I can’t help but want to know more.

The title of the story is also quietly subversive.  As the narrator feeds upon bits of scalp that he – or she as Moore deliberately plays with gender pronouns within the story – tore from the head of a frantic teenager, he/she states that, “Only my body desires this flesh. To feed. To spread this special death so we can change, leave, ascend.”  As a metaphysical event within genre fiction/literature, ascension stirs images of transformation into an energy based life form a la Stargate SG-1’s Dr. Daniel Jackson.  The notion of becoming something grander through violence and cannibalism is an absolute anathema to the spiritual purity that is commonly associated with rising to a higher plane of existence.  Again, Moore offers a contrasting idea that is simultaneously grotesque while wholly seductive from a literary perspective: where the Borg would augment an individual into their collective, Moore’s bio-Borg literally consume vessels of life essence to transform it into something new.

From that perspective, Ascension is very much a story about surrendering one’s individual agency.  In comparison to the conventional zombie story which is all about the survival of self and self-identity, Ascension is explores the struggle to abandon one’s ego.  What I find particularly interesting therein is the story’s urban setting and the narrator’s reference to other cities around the world.  I can’t help but wonder if this is some sort of enduring metaphor relating to questions of autonomy and community within urban spaces.  Consider that cities are their own sort of collective where people augment themselves to suit the environment.  In dense urban areas it is normal for humans to live on top of, next to and below other people.  Add a global computer network to that claustrophobic isolation and perhaps we can, in the words of the narrator, “…see everything through everyone’s eyes.”  In an era of addictions to social media, online multiplayer games and cybersex, the desire to “ascend” is closer than we might think.

Matt Moore has proven his masterful talent in using flash fiction to create a rich and thoughtful world.  Ascension emphasises the living in “living dead” to create a unique demarcation from the established forms of zombie/horror fiction.  Now will somebody please give Mr. Moore a bucket of scotch, an empty room and a blank cheque so he can write a novel of this calibre.

Overall Score: +4.5

The full text of Ascension can be found on AE: The Canadian Science Fiction Review.

You might also want to check out Matt Moore’s Aurora Award nominated short story, Touch the Sky, They Say, also found the Canadian Science Fiction Review.  Make sure to check out Matt’s blog for details on how you can vote for his story in the Auroras.


6

Short Story Review: Full Moon Hill

Summary Judgement:  With very few words, Full Moon Hill offers an airtight story that is as bio-politically disturbing as it is utterly compelling.

Written by: Matt Moore

Photo by: AP/Rob Schumacher/The Arizona Republic

This story has left absolutely no doubt in my mind that Matt Moore is a master of mood.  Full Moon Hill immediately establishes a literary space that is grim, driven by greed and powered by self-serving men.  The characters in this story show such a striking disregard for individual life that it evokes memories of OCP’s appropriation of Alex Murphy’s body in Robocop.  I dare say that is no small feat for seven hundred words of story.

Although Full Moon Hill can be classified as science fiction, there is no escaping the story’s macabre and supernatural elements.  At the same time, the story suffers from none of the weaknesses endemic to any of those genres.  In short, the narrative is absolutely airtight.  Without giving anything away, I can say that the story plays with a contemporary issue that many of us would rather ignore.  Using this issue proves brilliant on two points.  On the one hand, the story works in an area where Western civilization’s track record is utterly underwhelming.  Our collective inability to address this issue goes so far as to put readers in a place where they are invited to empathize with the questionable deeds of the central characters.  Rest assured, there will be people who see the idea presented in this story as common sense, rather than miscarriage of human decency.  For my time, that is powerful writing.

Were it not for the strength of Matt Moore’s language, there’s no way the story could convey so much in so few words.  The narrative’s prevailing tone pairs a sales pitch with dispassionate dialogue to eliminate the need for exposition or back story.  Although the details are a little sub-textual, the story gives readers everything they need to understand the characters’ motivations as well as what will likely unfold after the story finishes.

Ultimately, Full Moon Hill is the kind of tale that sets a benchmark between a good story and great literature.  A good story leaves me with a few talking points and nothing that merits serious complaint.  A great work of fiction keeps going in my mind long after I’ve finished with the text.  I anticipate that Full Moon Hill will be rattling around in my brain for quite some time.  Why not give it a read and see if it can take up residence in your cranium?

The full text of Full Moon Hill can be found at Lightning Flash Magazine.

Overall Score: +4