THE STEEL REMAINS and the FFFFUUUUU

It seems that after the advent of A Song of Ice and Fire, anything that has enough “gritty realism” and enough iterations of “fuck” in it will be proclaimed the next second coming. Just, you know, as long as the characters swear often enough. Say, how about twenty times a page? No? Well, let’s make that fifty and we’ve a deal!

And there you have Richard Morgan’s The Steel Remains in a nutshell.1

I think it says something–says a lot of things, really–when one of the positive Amazon reviews of this book begins with:

I’ve been a fan of Morgan’s since his first book, Altered Carbon. His novels generally have the same pattern: The main character is an alienated, burnt-out warrior with dangerous combat skills. He has a tortured past, and is largely amoral and cynical, but nevertheless fights for justice against incredible odds. In the end, he saves the day and maybe better understands his place in the world. Perhaps rightly, his work gets branded as juvenile, violent, and misogynistic (the female characters are somewhat poorly drawn). It’s also great fun to read.

Pretty much. Except the great fun part. This reviewer also compares being gay to eating bugs, which is charming to no end. Some others, fans of Morgan from the sf series, whined that The Steel Remainsis too… “politically correct and multicultural.” Is that, like, shorthand for “I’m a xenophobic homophobe, GET THE GAY AWAY FROM ME EWWWW COOTIES WHAT IF I READ THIS AND WANT TO SUCK COCKS TOO”?
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Keith Brooke’s THE ACCORD

The key to understanding Keith Brooke’s The Accord is this: fuck.

Wait, let’s try that again: FUCK!!!

This isn’t me swearing a lot in yet another review; this is Keith Brooke’s prose in his pathetic soap opera masquerading as cyberpunk. I don’t know if it’s just Brooke or an unspoken agreement between certain sci-fi writers (Charles Stross, to a lesser extent M. John Harrison and Richard Morgan) that characters in a futuristic world must never, ever speak naturally. The symptoms vary: most of the time it’s meaningless technobabble describing technology that isn’t probable and backed up by a form of science known to no man except maybe the gnome mages in Dungeons & Dragons, sometimes it’s people talking in a manner writers think super-geniuses would but which resembles nothing in reality. In Brooke’s case, it’s a mix of both plus a liberal use of “fuck” as the be-all, end-all outlet for emotion. Happy? FUCK. Sad? FUCKING FUCK. Angry? FUCKITY FUCK FUCK.
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