"This Alien Shore" by C.S. Friedman (1998)

 **Late-90s Cyberpunk Space Opera . . . yeah, I know, that's a hell of a combination of words . . . but with a surprisingly thoughtful central message about diversity and xenophobia**

In many ways, this novel is a pastiche of some of the classics of Science Fiction.  It is unashamed at its debt to William Gibson, and the influence of Frank Herbert is obvious as well.  Cordwainer Smith literally gets a shoutout in the Forward, but I won't say for which story since that's a bit of a spoiler (but yes, if you know Cordwainer Smith, it's almost certainly the one you're thinking of).  However, Friedman takes these elements and combines them into something that feels less like a ripoff and more like a respectful homage--achieving this mostly because this novel takes that foundation and adds to it in some surprisingly beautiful and original ways

The first unique point is the history of her setting, which is fantastically realized and darkly plausible, a backdrop for the adventure and a world in which I'd read a dozen books (although I tagged this post "Standalone", she actually wrote a sequel decades later).  Centuries before the events of the novel, Earth first took to the stars.  Thousands of colony ships had been sent out before anyone realized that this stardrive irreparably mutated anyone on board.  Faced with the prospect of these mutants, these monsters, returning to the homeworld, the people of Earth demanded that all ties be cut off to the colonies.  Although supplies could have been sent my automated pilots, the Terrans rioted and forced the Earth Government to cut off all ties--stranding many of the colonies without support or even adequate supplies.  As I write this review in January 2025, amidst a world full of chaos, reading the book's description of how the riots effected this decision "Not efficiently, but effectively. Such was the power of violence." . . . as I said, darkly plausible.  Xenophobia and the general fear of the unknown is not just a theme present in this novel, it's the entire backbone of the story.  I respect that

Beyond the setting, the twin plots of this novel concern  a young girl who is on the run and clearly has something special in her brainware that even she doesn't know, and a scientist trying to track down the creator of a computer virus that is killing Guild pilots.  Both plots are of the mystery variety, and Friedman does an excellent job of that most crucial and difficult aspect of writing this kind of suspense plot:  Allowing the reader to figure out elements of the mystery before the character does, giving us a smug sense of satisfaction; but not having us figure it out too long before the character does, leading to annoyance as we wait for them to catch up.  It's a tricky balance to walk, and I'm impressed with how well she pulls it off

The plot with the young girl is standard fare, but very well-realized.  In opening chapter, she is woken up in her space habitat by her tutor, given a bugout bag, and told to flee.  

“They’re here because they want you, Jamie. Do you understand? They want your brain and what’s in it, and they don’t care what they have to do to get it. Which is why my job was—” He stopped suddenly. A muscle in his jaw clenched tight. 

“To help me?” His eyes met hers, then looked away. 

“My job was to kill you,” he said hoarsely. “And God help me when Shido finds out I didn’t.”

Yeah.  It's a fun plot, and we follow our young hero as she takes the unfamiliar stars, meets fantastic aliens and cool hackers and unravels the mystery in her brain.  It's a lot of fun

But where this novel truly shines is the second plot, following our scientist.  Because he is a Gueran, the race that has given humanity back the stars.  In the present time of the novel, the Guerans' mutation has allowed them to invent a safe stardrive, and the Guild that controls all interstellar travel (see, I told you the Herbert influence was obvious) has made it their mission to reunite all of humanity's descendants--including the mother world Terra, a decision not particularly well-liked by much of the Outworlds.    What's fascinating about this race is that they have chosen to accept (and perhaps had amplified by the original drive) all of the neurodiversity inherent in the human mind--things that would have been "cured" back on Terra.  Although it's not explicitly stated, our main characters of the novel is clearly far on the autism spectrum . . . and so his traditional Gueran face paint is simply styled in a pattern that says to any Gueran he meets, "don't expect me to make small talk, but if you give me an analytical problem to solve I promise I'll get you results."  It's a superb thought experiment in the tradition of the very best scifi has to offer

I loved this book for many reasons, it's open-armed embrasure of diversity being the highlight.  But overall, this is simply a book that . . . works.  Incredibly vibrant worldbuilding, fun characters (including, although they never really appear in the text, some of the most rage-inducing villains I've read in a while), tight plotting, and just some good ol' fun.  The 90s, though I hold a deep and abiding love for the culture of that decade, was a weird time for scifi, and a lot of it has not held up.  I would not have expected a novel featuring computer programming and atypical neurological profiles as key elements (given how much those fields have changed in the quarter-century since this book was written) to be one of the ones that did.  The fact that this book has aged well is due entirely to the fact that one of the other key elements of this novel is humanity's near-inescapable tendency towards xenophobia and bigotry and hatred of the other . . . and that hasn't changed at all, has it?

"If you want a truly alien creature, look deeply at your own Terran self. Probe into that layer of being which evolved before we had speech or walked erect, and see if it seems at all familiar to your modern, civilized self. Study the parts of the soul that hide from daylight, the quirks and terrors of our insecurities, the inner conflicts that are the very foundation of our human identity. There you will find a creature truly alien, nearly incomprehensible, and as awesome in its potential as it is terrifying in its capacity for self-destruction."

But on the other hand, Friedman chooses to be positive.  To show us that we can be better if we embrace the things that make us different rather than try to conform

There's a scene near the beginning of the book in which our Guildmistress Prima is having a meeting.  The book takes care to make sure we know that she's a pretty big deal--"it might be said that the Mistress Prima of the Ainniq Guild, who controlled all transortation between the outworlds and therefore all commerce, was in fact the most powerful human in the galaxy.  If not the most powerful human who had ever existed."  And yet, as in literally the very next paragraph, it details her preparations for a meeting with her top officers:

The chairs were perfectly spaced, of course, and the monitors all adjusted to the same, precisely chosen angle. Any other arrangement would have resulted in a waste of time and energy for one of her most valued officers.

Soon, this officer arrives:

Devlin nodded, vouchsafing her a tight smile as he took in the arrangement of the charis, the monitors, and probably every spec of dust in the place.  Apparently her efforts to get it all right passed muster, for he made no move to fix anything, but simply took his place behind one of the twelve chairs, there to await the other guests.  She knew that if she had placed a pile of hardcopy reports on the table he would probably straighten that pile, aligning its edges until they were perfectly complimentary to the periphery of the table.

Just as with Masada's neurodivergence, Devlin's is not explicitly named with our Old Earth terms, but I think we all get it.  What fantastic about this passage is that it's clear that this incredibly powerful person has made these preparations not because she's humoring him, not out of condescension, but  . . . because she's good at her job.  And a big part of her job is getting the best out of her officers.  So she makes sure that things are set up to do so.  How simple it is, when you think of it that way

I have a weakness for police procedural shows, copaganda though they may be.  "Monk" was one of my favorites growing up, starring brilliant but tortured Adrian Monk, who suffered from OCD.  Nearly every episode has a scene in which Monk derails a meeting or conversation because he can't focus until e.g. the blinds are perfectly level.  His friends smirk and humor him, and when he's finished Captain Leland Stottlemeyer good-naturedly jibes something like, "finished?  Can we proceed?"

Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to criticize Monk.  In its time, it was a very nice portrayal of friends supporting someone with a neurodivergent trait.  They never ask him to change, they accept him and all his foibles.  And yet.  In this book, Friedman shows us how we could be even better

Instead of the scene of our characters putting up with Monk, imagine if there were a scene in which Captain Stottlemeyer says to the precinct, "ok everyone, Monk is going to be here in fifteen minutes, everyone take a minute to look around the room and make sure everything is in order."  And when some rookie asks why, Stottlemeyer and his mustache glare at him and say, "Listen, new guy.  Adrian Monk is the finest detective I've ever met, but he won't be able to start discussing the case until everything in this room is clean and straight and even.  If he has to adjust things himself, that's a waste of all our time, and more importantly it's a waste of his time, for which he bills the City of San Francisco by the hour.  So stop asking stupid questions and grab a duster"

That's the world that C.S. Friedman is showing us in this book.  It's a world we could create in our present time, if we were committed enough to doing it

I loved this book

"Praise the founders of Guera for having taught them all to nurture such specialized talent, rather than seeking to 'cure' it. It was little wonder that most innovations in technology now came from the outworlds, and that Earth, who set such a strict standard of psychological 'normalcy,' now produced little that was truly exciting. Thank God their own ancestors had left that doomed planet before they, too, had lost the genes of wild genius. Thank God they had seen the creative holocaust coming, and escaped it."