Confessions of a Liberal Puritan

I'm operating on less-than-optimal amounts of sleep, today (for reasons which will become obvious), but please bear with me. Or don't. You can skip the dull parts about a series of books you may never have read (which I'll hide behind the cut-tags), and just get to the part where I hope the relevance to my own recent journey will become clear.

Or just skip the whole thing.

But I think there's a point buried in here somewhere, and it's important to me to try to put it into words, for my own sake, so . . .

REVIEWING THE BOOKS:

It's been not quite two and a half weeks since I discovered -- to my mingled delight and horror -- that P.M. Griffin had written and published three brand-spanking-new Star Commandos novels since 2002.

My horror was, of course, due to the fact that I had given up hoping or searching for anything new from her on Amazon.com some years earlier, and I very nearly didn't type in her name that day, either -- I would still be in the dark and without my three new novels, if I hadn't been so desperately trying to put off grading my students' exams that I was willing to search for ANYTHING, no matter how unlikely, in order to waste more time on the computer.

Talk about your narrow escapes! Whew! (Not from the exams, of course -- I still had to read and grade them, so no escape there, but it certainly seemed a less onerous chore with the promise of new books in a favorite series on their way.)

For anyone who might be wondering about my seemingly excessive fondness for novels you've never heard of before, P.M. Griffin's Star Commandos is a series whose first nine novels were published between 1986 and 1991, and then NOTHING since 1991.

I discovered the first paperback novel (titled, simply enough, Star Commandos) quite by accident in the tiny Osceola public library next door to the often-problematic church I was serving in my first pastorate. I read it only because I saw that it was written by a woman and about a woman military hero with an actual love interest (extremely rare in any "military SF" novel back then) and came with a recommendation from Andre Norton (who'd been my introduction to SF reading as a kid and had remained one of my favorite authors as an adult). I read it in one sitting in my church office and was so hooked that I actually considered deliberately not returning the book to the library at all -- better to pay the fine and cost of replacement than to risk never being able to find my own copy to purchase, I thought (that was before I'd ever been to my first SF convention, and there was no Ebay or Amazon online, so my chances of honestly acquiring a book no longer carried by Waldenbooks or B.Dalton seemed slim, at best).

However, I resisted temptation, and was eventually rewarded in 1990 by a happy meeting with kindred souls in the hucksters' room of my first real SF convention. Between the book dealers and the current SF racks of the big shopping mall booksellers, I completed my collection of all nine Star Commandos novels in 1991 and have been using them as "comfort food" or a "virtual spa" for mental and emotional escape by re-reading them all at least once every year or two since then.

So much for the backstory (in case anyone was remotely interested in the first place -- but those of you with your own obsessional reading patterns will understand, at least!).

The tenth book in the series, Watchdogs of Space, which I'd ordered from one of the dealers on Amazon.com (since Amazon itself couldn't promise how long it would take them to locate a copy for me) arrived this past Monday, and I started reading it at bedtime and finished it around 3:30 AM. Since then, I've been re-reading it more slowly, in 40-50-page chunks every night.

I enjoyed Watchdogs very much, even though I got the feeling, at first, that many of the situations were reminiscent of earlier adventures (a sort of refresher course in everything our heroes had been through in the previous nine novels, I initially thought).

It was kind of like the 6th season of "Buffy", in that the "nemeses" of our heroes (in this case, the most-highly-decorated-in-the-history-of-the-Terran-Federation Commando team headed by Islaen Conner and her former-alien-foe-turned-devoted-husband-and-second-in-command Varn Sogan) seem a tad petty and mundane, though still deadly.

But then -- in the case of BtVS -- you realize that the real enemy Buffy and Co. faced in season 6 wasn't meant to be the nerd trio at all, but rather an inner crisis of meaning and confidence and identity (some might argue that they were way too young to have mid-life crises or to be candidates for Individuation in the Jungian sense -- but if you've been saving the world alone or together since you were sixteen-year-olds, who's to say you can't face a mid-life-type crisis of meaning in your early twenties? Especially if you've come back from the dead twice already?)

And in Watchdogs of Space, the real enemy was the fact that our heroes didn't have a sufficiently over-whelming external enemy to face, to keep up the pounding, unrelenting, adrenaline-filled, life-or-death, fate-of-the-galaxy-at-stake-so-no-time-for-healing-old-wounds pressure that they'd been living with since they all hooked up two years earlier. Instead, they were being 'nibbled to death by ducks', almost -- confronting old wounds that had never had a chance to heal properly in themselves and contending with the petty greed and prejudices that peace and prosperity seem to encourage in some people.

The real purpose of this tenth book was to revisit some old wounds and open them up slightly, preparatory to finally tending to them in depth. That, and to reinforce old friendships (like the mutant Malkites' and Sogan's mutual fondness and loyalty for one another, despite all odds), introduce some promising new friends for our heroes (a Terran High Admiral and the mostly mutant maintenace crews who'd happily take a laser bolt for Sogan, once they get to know him), and finally give Varn a chance to tell the Arcturian Empire that had oncecondemned him and chucked him out with the garbage where to go and what to do with itself when it got there.

So, when the 11th and 12th novels finally came from Amazon yesterday afternoon, it was all I could do not to blow off a student-faculty concert of Mendelssohn's "Elijah" that I'd planned to attend last night (I had one of my students singing a supporting role in the production -- one of my "quiet" students, apparently the lone agnostic in a class full of gung-ho believers, so I was extra motivated to attend and let him know that I really do value his contributions and gifts, regardless of whether or not he shares my particular beliefs or chooses to stick his neck out in class).

[Slightly off-topic: I'm really glad I went to the concert as planned, even though I doubt my student could see me or hear me clapping for him, because I'd never heard more than a few excerpts from "Elijah" before, and the performance was well-done and quite moving at times.]

But at my already late bedtime, I couldn't resist starting Star Commandos 11: Pariah and reading it through to the conclusion at 4:30 AM. And then, of course, when I woke up before 9 AM, I couldn't resist blowing off plans to eat and get dressed and do anything else with my day until I'd started and finished Star Commandos 12: War Prince, which was proclaimed by Andre Norton to be the best work Griffin had ever done and was proclaimed by the publisher to be the definitive end to the series.

In a sense, Pariah continued the work of Watchdogs of Space by focusing in on one particular social problem that had been pushed to the back burner too many times by our heroes: virulent hatred and mindless violence or constant persecution against Sogan because he 'looks like' one of the Federation's former Arcturian invaders. This time around (unlike in, say, Mission Underground) there was no 'mission' to take precedence over caring for their own (no "planet-buster bomb" to be defused, etc.), but only friendships to be acknowledged, trusted, and finally purposefully nurtured, as a bulwark against the hatred of a few cowards. And, of course, new avenues for using their gifts and learning to truly enjoy the life and peace they've worked so hard to protect. The ending was clearly setting up some major resolutions and changes (no more "Bonanza Syndrome"-like stasis in regard to key relationships or "three-steps-forward-and-two-steps-back" or "dysfunctional universe's business as usual" for our heroes), and I was so eager to continue the story that it was hard to MAKE myself turn out the light and get a few hours sleep this morning.

And then War Prince had me laughing and crying, in turns, with the greater reality and depth the characters were allowed to experience, along with introducing some GOOD and LIKABLE Arcturians (other than Varn), and finally healing and resolving a lot of old wounds within individuals and between the Federation and the Empire.

Where the earlier novels had tended to be short and so action-packed (after all, they were clearly billed as 'adventure SF') that our heroes could only triumph over the enemy in battle, slap a band-aid over their various psychic and social wounds, and find a way to come to a position of hopefulness (rather than happiness) in the last few pages, these last three novels -- and especially the exceptionally good and deeply satisfying War Prince -- finally give a sense that the characters are moving forward with hopeful anticipation and joy (based on positive experiences and absolute security in many important relationships, allowing them to truly take some leaps of faith and not be too worried about what new disaster or need for ultimate sacrifice tomorrow might bring), rather than only keeping themselves going on raw courage, mutual loyalty, and refusal to roll over and die for anyone's convenience.

From being a small, close-knit unit with only each other to truly trust or turn to as "home" (since Call to Arms firmly established that even Islaen Conner, however much her family of origina might love her and welcome her and her husband to their home on visits, could never really go home again or fit in with life on her home planet), by the end of these last three novels, the improved health of the group and of the two ultra-systems they've served is measured by their vastly expanded adoptive family and by the fact that more and more people are in on their deepest, darkest secrets and letting them know that they don't give a rat's behind about any of the 'bad' stuff and will continue to stand with these five persons (counting Bandit, of course) with the greatest of pleasure.

If I had to sum up in one word my review of these last three Star Commandos novels, it would be "maturity." These books show that Griffin has not wasted those 11 years between Call to Arms in 1991 and Watchdogs in 2002. What these books demonstrate to me is a mature and joyful sense of priorities, as well as the confidence to face one's own demons and defeat them, with more than a little help from one's friends and one's 'family' of fellow mutants and mutant-lovers.

My only complaint is that things ended so well and so promisingly, that I'm reluctant to accept War Prince as the absolute final book in the series. Couldn't I at least get Star Commandos: The Next Generation at some point? I mean, we've got all those great kids coming up in the ranks on both the Federation and Arcturian sides, and if our heroes start having some young ones of their own . . . well, surely that's a story that must be told?

From my point of view (as an ardent and annual re-reader also of the works of Lois McMaster Bujold), I see Islaen and Varn having just arrived, after two years of marriage and saving the world(s) on a regular basis, at the place where Cordelia Naismith Vorkosigan and Aral are at the end of Bujold's Shards of Honor and Barrayar, and it's time to see what kinds of trouble their kids and their friends' kids and all those people whose lives they've touched and enriched can get into and get back out of again (possibly with a little help from the old folks).

Or maybe Griffin will just leave that up to her readers' very active and happy imaginations.

AVAILABILITY:

In case anyone else cares (and if you grew up on Andre Norton in your youth and adore Lois McMaster Bujold in your maturity, as I do, then you really might want to check these out as sort of the 'missing link' between those two authors' gifts and perspectives), the full series is as follows:

1) Star Commandos, 228 pp., 1986
2) Star Commandos: Colony in Peril, 199 pp., 1987
3) Star Commandos: Mission Underground, 201 pp., 1988
4) Star Commandos: Death Planet, 201 pp., 1989
5) Star Commandos: Mind Slaver, 231 pp., March 1990
6) Star Commandos: Return to War, 247 pp., July 1990
7) Star Commandos: Fire Planet, 186 pp., November 1990
8) Star Commandos: Jungle Assault, 186 pp., April 1991
9) Star Commandos: Call to Arms, 197 pp., August 1991

10) Watchdogs of Space by Pauline Griffin, 349 pp., 2002
11) Star Commandos: Pariah, 309 pp., 2003
12) Star Commandos: War Prince, 360 pp., 2004

According to Amazon.com (last time I checked), all nine of the earlier Ace Science Fiction editions can be bought used for much less than their original cover price -- remember back in the last century, when new paperback novels cost just $2.95 to $3.95? [*nostalgic sigh*]. However, the last page of WAR PRINCE announced that Griffin has substantially revised and updated the previous nine novels, as well, in the intervening years, and that they'll all be re-issued in new, matching hardcover editions over the coming year. So, maybe I'll finally get to find out exactly what happened on Varn and Islaen's honeymoon with the
battle over Astarte, which was only referred to in books 2-12, and wasn't included in book 1 (it was probably published in one of the magazaines as a short story that I never saw, I guess). I'd like that. But what it also means is that I may have to seriously consider saving up to buy these books all over again, at about 100 times the original cover price of my Ace paperback editions (the hardcover editions of #11 and #12 were listed at $27.99 and $28.99, respectively -- yikes!).

WHY AM I SO OBSESSED?:

(Beyond the obvious and too-easy answer that I'm just an obsessive-compulsive grad. student/minister/middle-aged spinster who needs a good dose of romance, space-battles, and butt-kicking heroism now and then, to keep me going.)

This will have to be the briefest of speculations, since I'm getting seriously tired, now, and even with an extra hour of sleep from putting the clocks back tonight, I'm not sure how functional I'll be in the morning.

In a real sense, I think I identify with Varn Tarl Sogan in a way that I never quite picked up on before. And, reading these three books so closely upon my own dark-night-of-the-soul experience a week ago (where I was finally able to stop running from crisis to crisis, apparently, and begin to tolerate the opening up and proper dressing of a few of my too-lightly-healed wounds) has brought that identification into focus.

I used to get really uncomfortable (usually a dead giveaway that something in an otherwise very comfy and enjoyable piece of entertainment is coming too close to home) over Sogan's seeming 'stuckness' at times, in those original 9 novels. No matter how many times he comes through, no matter how often he saves the day, no matter how many heroism citations he collects from his adopted Federation, the guy couldn't seem to cut himself a break. He kept seeing himself as damaged goods and undeserving of the honors and affection heaped upon him by the people he loved most. It wasn't until he was run so ragged by the unrelenting and overwhelming demands placed on his Commando unit and on his personal honor and courage over the past two years that he was barely functional that he could begin to 'break down' enough to let his wife and friends get inside his defenses and trust them to defend him when he was completely at a loss. No room for 'miracles' until he had died enough deaths and taken enough losses so that he was finally desperate enough to accept the love and help being offered to him.

Looking it back, it would seem that while Sogan was trying to be good enough and smart enough and strong enough and save the universe enough to DESERVE the second chance he'd gotten (in spite of his knowledge that he was, by his own standards, damaged goods and shamed beyond redemption), and managing to go from crisis to crisis with only 'baby steps' of personal progress to show for all he'd gone through, I may have been in the same boat. And having seen where his 'dark night' experiences in the last three books led him, I take great comfort and courage at the thought that my own future might also hold a time of true joy and hopefulness and courage not based on desperation, despair, or overcompensation.

In a way, then, I guess I COULD say that these books have done what they needed to do, taking me as far as they can take me, and the rest of the story is up to me to write and star in.

Of course, since I've never been one to have a break-through in therapy and never look back, I'm sure I'll need to revisit all these novels a few more times in coming years, to remind myself where I've been and where I need to be going.

Definitely time for bed now. Words no longer forming. Losing my ability to spell and use grammar and punctuation. Must sleep!