5 February, 2004
The Praxis, Walter Jon Williams (438 pp, MMPB, 2002)
Given that Walter Jon Williams is one of my favorite SF authors, it sure took me a long time to read his latest book. Well, I've finally remedied that situation, and at least now I don't have to wait too long for the sequel (April 2004).
The Praxis is set in a Galactic Empire, created 10,000 years ago by the immortal, possibly post-whatever [1] Shaa. Humans, like the other subject species, have long since been assimilated into the Praxis (as the Empire is called, along with its laws and social code). However, post-whateverness is not all it's cracked up to be, and the Shaa have been dying off (through suicide) for some time. This novel opens with the impending demise of the final Shaa. Once it dies, the subject races will be left with the task of maintaining the Praxis on their own.
One might suspect that it wouldn't be so easy. There's a big difference between a galactic empire ruled by a godlike super-being and one ruled by a bunch of humans and human-equivalent aliens, and the Praxis does not survive its master by very long. Shortly after the last Shaa's funeral, one of the formerly-subject species declares themselves to be the true successors to the Shaa, and attempts to take over the empire. The rest of the species don't take this sitting down, and so war erupts among people who haven't seen significant armed conflict for thousands of years. All of this is told through the eyes of two human members of the Praxis military: junior officer Gareth Martinez and ace pilot Caroline Sula. They're both small fry at the start of the novel, but it's clear that, in typical space opera fashion, they are both destined for Great Things.
The Praxis is pure, unabashed space opera. Williams makes no effort to dress it up, he just dives right in with abandon. The Praxis lacks the imaginativeness of some of his other work (Metropolitan, Aristoi). That's not to say that the book is routine or uninteresting. Williams embellishes his space opera with tropes lifted from other genres, such as the naval adventure story (there is a definite flavor of Hornblower to Martinez's rapid rise through the ranks once the war starts), and the comedy of manners (the bits with Martinez's family, and the bits where Sula hob-nobs with the hoity-toity nobility). There's a certain tongue-in-cheek tone running through the narrative, as if Williams is telling us, "Don't take this too seriously, don't nitpick about the setting's 'realism,' or lack thereof. It's all in fun." It's kind of like the Drake Maijstral books, but with less comedy and more plot complexity.
The main characters are really likeable, and they have enough personality flaws to keep them from being insufferably extraordinary. Their backgrounds give Williams a way to flesh out the culture of the Praxis, outside of the military setting of most of the action. Martinez is a member of the lesser nobility, and his familial interactions tell us quite a bit about the Praxis' social strata. Not to mention, his sisters are a hoot. Sula, by contrast, has roots in both the lower class and the upper nobility; her history--told through a series of flashbacks--paints a far different picture of life in the Praxis than what we see from Martinez's point of view.
Looking back on the novel, I've got to say that not very much happens in its 438 pages. The big rebellion/coup doesn't begin until more than halfway through the book; the first 250 pages serve to establish the characters and setting. This kind of approach can spell death for my interest in a story (for example: Tad Williams, The Dragonbone Chair). Fortunately, Williams is such a good writer that the minor activities of Sula and Martinez as they went about their normal lives in the Fleet were completely entertaining and kept me turning pages until the real action started.
I'm so happy to see Williams publishing SF again. I never did read his mainstream disaster novel The Rift. I'm eagerly looking forward to the next book of Dread Empire's Fall.
[1] As in "post-human," but without the human.