tl;dr

Far more than a Douglas Adams’ pastiche.  Space Opera is smart, very funny, full of heart and absolutely nails the ethos of Eurovision.

opening remarks

I’ve been a naughty boy and not kept up with Catherynne Valente’s fiction output.  This is despite the fact that I’ve regularly loved her novels such as Deathless and novellas like Six-Gun Snow White.  Given the serious amount of buzz Space Opera, her latest, is getting it would be incredibly rude if I didn’t pick this one up.

knee-jerk observations

Clearly, the opening sentence is riffing on Douglas Adams, that doesn’t change the fact that it’s a fantastic piece of writing. Valente has nailed Adams’ polite, vaguely passive-aggressive (one might say British) tone.

Possibly one of the best explanations as to why life on other planets isn’t that unique a thing:

Again, Valente is channelling Adams here, but it’s still very much her take.  I chuckled at the bit about security deposits.

Now that’s what I call a sentence:

Having established the parameters of her Universe: teeming with life but exceedingly violent, Valente introduces us to Decibel Jones a rockstar who made it big with his band The Absolute Zeros and their hit album, “Spacecrumpet”, only to face the ignominy experienced by so many before them – to become labelled a one-hit wonder.  Well into his decline, waking with a massive hangover, surrounded by copies of his failed solo album, Decibel faces up to a blue flamingo speaking in the voice of his grandmother.  Decibel thinks he must still be high, what he doesn’t know, though, is that this invading space flamingo has visited every person on the planet simultaneously.

The flamingo is part of a conglomerate of alien species who, having monitored Earth for some time, have decided to test if the human species is sentient.  It all links back to the galactic war which was, fundamentally, asking what constitutes sentience.  The bit here on the internet is a cheap shot albeit 100% accurate.

Sentience isn’t just an interesting philosophical question for the flamingo and the conglomerate of species.  They are desperate to avoid another war.  While humanity has shown glimmers of sentience, the way we treat our planet and each other marks us out as a potential threat to this peace and order.  If humanity wants to survive, we have to prove our sentience.  Yes, novel’s tone is funny, absurdist, over the top, but it’s not whimsical or twee.  The stakes are high.

As you’d expect when the whole planet is facing complete destruction, and our only saviour is an alcoholic musician and his one-hit wonder band, what you’re going to focus on is the man’s background, his “muddled” heritage.

The excerpt below is about the second living member of The Absolute Zeros: Omar Caliskan, AKA Oort St Ultraviolet.  I admire how Valente transitions from surreal, whacky space humour to something more personal and intimate.

HA! “… only the teensiest bit of cancer.”

You can’t critique Valente for holding anything back – she has brought to bear the full capabilities of her vibrant, crazy, thrilling imagination:

Throughout the novel, Valente spends a few pages here and a few pages there describing the more prominent alien species.  I’m halfway through the book, and so the following might be subject to change, but the Voorpret, a sentient virus that turns its host into a shambling zombie but knows how to make an excellent cappuccino, is my favourite:

I’d promised myself not to make too many Hitchhiker‘s comparisons, but I read this brilliant rant from Oort St Ultraviolet, and I’m reminded of – “Who said anything about panicking?” snapped Arthur. “This is still just the culture shock. You wait till I’ve settled down into the situation and found my bearings.  Then I’ll start panicking!”

Clippy’s rant and Oort’s response is almost perfect:

If Decibel Jones and The Absolute Zeros can avoid coming last at the Metagalactic Grand Prix humanity is saved.  The chances of this happening, of DJ and Oort finishing second last, are buckleys and none.  Knowing this one of the alien species offers to assist – voting in the band’s favour and influencing others to do the same – for a small payment: India.  Decibel Jones’ response is evidence, if any was needed, that Space Opera is more than an Adams’ pastiche.  It wears its serious themes on its voluminous sleeves:

The death of Mira Wonderful Star, the third member of Decibel Jones and The Absolute Zeros, haunts the novel.  Oort blames DJ for her fatal car accident because when Mira suddenly asks DJ to marry her, his response is to laugh.  She reacts by leaving the hotel they are staying at; it’s the last time either Oort or DJ see Mira alive.  Valente provides us with an insight as to what Mira may have said next if DJ had not interrupted her proposal with a chuckle.  We begin to realise that the UK of the mid 21st Century has gone full alt-right, deporting those not deemed citizens.  Mira just wanted to feel safe in a world that was tearing at the seams.

The Gist Of It

My soon to be 8-year old son is obsessed with all things Eurovision.  He can name the last thirty winners off the top of his head.  He has a well-thumbed coffee table book that charts the 60 odd year history of the song contest.  He even downloaded – fucked if I know how he found it – a scoreboard emulator so he could tally his own country by country votes.  When Eurovision is actually on the telly, he plays and replays his favourite songs on YouTube also demanding we play them in the car (and he’s not a demanding boy… it’s the Eurovision infection).  The point is I know Eurovision, and I can say, hand on the heart, that Catherynne M. Valente nails the ethos, the glam, and the over the top kitsch (is that a tautology?) in her novel Space Opera.  The only thing missing is Terry Wogan taking the piss during both the performances and the voting period. (To be fair to Valente Wogan had already retired from Eurovision and broadcasting duties when she became hooked in 2012).

Based on just the first page of Space Opera people will make comparisons to Douglas Adams’ The Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy.  That’s fair enough, I made the comparison in my comments above, and it’s not like the novel’s tone disinvites the association, and, if there was any doubt, Valente thanks Adams in her liner notes.  However, I find the comparison boring, partly because it’s another instance where we measure up the skills of a woman against the “expertise” of a man to see if she shapes up and partly because while Valente borrows Adams rhythm and sense of the absurd, the set-piece and jokes are all hers.  Whether you find them funny depends on your sense of humour, but I found myself chuckling (quite loudly) more than once.  Even when the book isn’t piss in your pants hilarious, it’s always lively and exciting.

Then there’s the climax – which I wouldn’t dare spoil – that is, in one sense, predictable and in another sense, something you’re unlikely to have read before, all of it beautifully seeded and hinted at earlier in the novel.  It’s a masterclass of set-up, making the jump and then sticking the dismount.

The book’s message is also loud and clear.  Art isn’t just a nice to have; it’s a critical part of what makes us, us.  The passion that art – good and bad – evokes mostly makes us better people.  Space Opera is, therefore, the perfect antidote to the current political climate.  Not because it provides an escape from the dystopian future we seem to be heading toward at a rapid rate of knots but because it reaffirms those things we need to fight for if we’re ever going to save ourselves.

Finally, Eurovision begins in May… my 8-year old is soooo excited.  PLEASE SAVE ME!!!!