Review: Ilium
Dan Simmons’s begins his second foray into the far future with Ilium, the first half of the Ilium / Olympos duology, and what a journey he has made! Ilium won the Locus Award for Best Science Fiction Novel of 2003, and Olympos was also nominated in 2005. For anyone counting, Simmons has claimed that same prize for Hyperion, The Fall of Hyperion, and The Rise of Endymion, all three part of his acclaimed Hyperion Cantos. Each year, Locus magazine presents the Locus Award to the winner of their readers’ poll, and it isn’t difficult to understand why so many science fiction fans chose Ilium: Dan Simmons’s dramatic epic offers something to satisfy every speculative fiction readers’ tastes, cramming dozens upon dozens of literary references between scenes of nerve-racking action, intriguing puzzles, and visionary glimpses of astonishing technology. In a style similar to the Hyperion Cantos, Simmons borrows freely — try Googling “intertextuality” — from a wide variety of sources; the texts of William Shakespeare, Marcel Proust, Robert Browning, Vladimir Nabokov, and Homer feature prominently, along with assorted others. Most people (that don’t hold postgraduate degrees in classical literature) will struggle to appreciate the many allusions contained within the text, but Simmons has ensured that his novel entertains on many levels. Ilium’s ambitious exploration of a fast-approaching future, populated by an entire host of enthralling characters, proves to be an exhilarating and engrossing novel.
Simmons dazzles with his vision of a post-singularity future; Earth’s society has fractured and been reconstructed at least once, if not several times (for more information, a spoiler-heavy, fan-made wiki, charts out a rough timeline from the many historical references throughout the two novels). Suffice it to say, several thousand years have passed. Ilium begins with three separate but convergent worlds. A reenactment of the decade-long Trojan War rages on while Greek “gods,” in actuality post-singularity humans modified via nanotechnology and quantum devices, hover above the battlefield alongside resurrected academic scholars, eagerly observing the unfolding battle. Simmons study of the Iliad must have been exhaustive, as his research demonstrates just how massive and richly detailed the original works were. Elsewhere, a small group of humans struggle to break the mold of their unimportant lives on an abandoned Earth, a planet now occupied by illiterates and indolent pleasure seekers, their every whim addressed by robotic servants. Dinosaurs and other ancient creatures once again stalk the countryside, reconstructed by ARNists through recombinant DNA engineering. And “moravecs,” a species of cyborg explorers and scientists (and apparently, literary critics), dwell in the farthest reaches of the solar system, unconcerned with the happenings of human life on Earth, until the sudden and mysterious terraforming of Mars demands investigation. No critic can accuse Dan Simmons of being frightened by big ideas.
Ilium begins, much as The Iliad began, with an invocation to the Muse asking for aid in telling the story of Achilles’s rage, only now the speaker is Thomas Hockenberry, PhD of classical studies, and Homer’s epic didn’t start by christening the Muse an “incomparable bitch.” Hockenberry, a 20th century scholar who studied the Iliad for twenty years in his first life, now reincarnated by the Gods themselves, monitors the storied battle between the Greeks, Achaeans, and Trojans. After ten years of behind the scenes observations, Hockenberry finds himself thrust into events, and his interference will ripple outward in ways no oracle can predict. Much of the entertainment in following Hockenberry stems from the juxtaposition of this flimsy professor beside the legendary strength and bravery of characters such as Achilles, Hector, Helen, and Odysseus. On Earth, a pudgy lepidopterist (no, really) by the name of Daeman (yep, that too) lusts for his 20-year-old cousin (still not kidding), but after attending her birthday party, ends up on an eye-opening adventure, traveling around the globe with several abnormally curious humans, seeking answers about a long forgotten past. Not to put too fine a point on it, but Daeman whines and complains and generally acts the spoiled brat for most of this, and while readers will appreciate his character’s later growth into someone more serious, this transformation feels very sudden after several hundred pages of childish simpering. Last of the protagonists are the moravecs Mahnmut and Orphu, part of a covert mission to investigate strange activity on Mars. As the mission goes from bad to worse, Mahnmut struggles to protect his friend while completing their daunting task. Each character’s arc maintains a unique quality, and picking a favorite from amongst the protagonists would be a difficult task.
With so many moving pieces, slower portions of the story impress less than others, but the narrative moves along at a brisk pace and refuses to be dragged down by dry exposition. Following the Earth-bound humans as they are dragged along can be an exercise in frustration; for most of the novel, they are ineffectual morons. However, tantalizing glimpses of their lost history hint at shocking past events. Strangely, the storyline on this Earth never intersects with the other characters. The events in the Trojan War amaze, especially the growing repercussions after Hockenberry intervenes to change history. But the moravec Mahnmut, submarine captain / biomechanoid / amateur Shakespeare enthusiast, acts as the unlikely hero of the novel. Consistently in the dark and outgunned, the intelligent and practical cyborg strives without selfishness to protect his companion Orphu. Mahnmut’s narrative also provides the most factual information about current events, as the moravecs possess the superior scientific knowledge of all the protagonists. Unfortunately, the pacing can slow to a crawl when the pair decide to engage in a ten-page bout of literary critique. But the thunderous conclusion more than makes up for this; without spoiling any surprises, one of the closing scenes documents the end of the Trojan War and the start of a much larger battle, detailing the order of battle between the Olympian gods and… well, that will have to wait for the sequel, Olympos.
With the Hugo- and Locus-winning Hyperion Cantos, Dan Simmons ably demonstrated he was a science fiction author to be reckoned with. His latest effort proves this was no fluke: Simmons continues to push the boundaries of far future science fiction. Ilium imagines faraway technologies while simultaneously looking back at the rich history of English classical literature to conjure a kaleidoscopic but relevant adventure. Only the smallest handful of novels could hope to compete with this wide variety of characters: Greek gods, resurrected scientists, heroes sprung from legend, sentient machine-man hybrids, genetically engineered post-humans, and even queerer constructs that threaten to overwhelm the imagination. For every fantastic character, an incredible world cries out for exploration, and for every wonder shown to the reader, the novel presents another question for the sequel to answer. But more awaits in these pages than Brane holes, ballistic artillery batteries, and Shakespearean allusions; Ilium asks what the consequences may be when technology no longer limits human imagination. What will humanity choose to be when even our physical forms can be shrugged aside? The writing’s daunting complexity and multilayered literary references threaten to scare away more casual readers, but those hoping for fantastic adventure and compelling visions of an alien future, Ilium delivers.
Plot: 9
Characters: 8
Action: 9.5
Writing: 9.5
Overall (not an average): 9/10
Edition reviewed: Ilium
* Mass Market Paperback: 752 pages
* Publisher: HarperTorch; First Thus edition (June 28, 2005)
* Language: English
* ISBN-10: 0380817926
* ISBN-13: 978-0380817924