Wednesday, 28 November 2018

The Iron Heel

Another month, another work of classic science fiction ticked off the increasingly stable list. This time, it was Jack London's 1908 (a fact I only learned while researching this post - I guessed it had been written around 20 years later - and one that has given me a new perspective on the book) dystopian novel The Iron Heel.

London sets the book up in the form of a personal account written by an aristocratic woman, Avis, at the turn of the century who falls for an aspiring socialist politician, Ernest Everard - both romantically and for his ideas. This is framed in turn in the perspective of a 27th-century historian who has discovered the manuscript, and is interpreting it in the context of a world where humanity has finally got its collective act together and eradicated social inequality. As sci-fi goes, it's fairly soft, and for the majority it felt a lot more like a political manifesto by London and a speculative prediction of future conflicts.

The book starts slowly, as Ernest sets out his ideology in lengthy detail, always having an answer to any attempts to discredit his plans by the upper class company he finds himself a part of. There's something to be said for his idealistic vision of humanity as one, cooperating for the greater good and sharing wealth rather than a handful of monopolies hoarding it; but at the same time there's just something slightly irritating about the way London has written this character as a kind of socialist superman, immune to criticism and blessed with 20:20 vision for the future. Anyway, Avis is sold on what he says after witnessing first-hand the ways in which the capitalist system of America has failed so many of the working class, and decides to support him in his assault on the political system. When a number of Socialist Party politicians are elected to the senate but then arrested by The Man, the movement becomes a revolution as Avis and Ernest lead the increasingly aggressive charge against the government. The government fights back to protect their own interests (and money) and civil war ensues; at first largely covert, but then increasingly violent. We finally get some actual action in the last couple of chapters, a wonderfully surreal street battle in Chicago between government mercenaries, revolutionary agents and the chaotic blunt force of the rioting underclass.

All in all, I wasn't hugely impressed by this book. It's not long by any standards, but it certainly felt like it - London's writing plodding along as he pontificates through his mouthpiece of Ernest at great length. The futuristic footnotes serve more to interrupt the narrative than to complement it and the ending, while perhaps realistic, was a huge letdown. But as I said earlier, the fact that this was written so long ago does change things - with the hindsight of two world wars and a global economic collapse, it's likely London would have produced a very different book even ten years further down the line.

And it's not as if it's not relevant at all today: in fact, it feels like we're even further away from successfully breaking down the system of corporate influence and self-interest that keeps the poor poor and makes the rich increasingly richer - and that all of the problems that go along with that are far from being solved.

2.5/5

Raging against the machine, vintage style.


Tuesday, 6 November 2018

The Cyclist Who Went Out in the Cold: Adventures Along the Iron Curtain Trail

It had been a few months since I'd read any non-fiction, and so as the long winter nights started to draw closer and the weather finally started to take a turn for the worse, I decided to take a look at a book that would put those issues in perspective.

The Cyclist Who Went Out in the Cold: Adventures Along the Iron Curtain Trail is journalist Tim Moore's account of his utterly insane - but ultimately successful - attempt to cycle the length of EuroVelo's EV13 cycling route, better known as the Iron Curtain Trail. Starting at the top of Norway in the depths of winter and emerging in Turkey months later, having ridden 9000km through 19 countries, Moore documents his trip in agonising detail.

There's a lot crammed in to around 350 pages here - from the woeful inadequacy of Moore's bike (built in East Germany in the 1980s for short-distance use), to the tremendous physical and mental strain that such an undertaking entails, to the vast shadow of recent history that still looms over the entire region. Moore chooses to focus principally on the latter, and while his tales of dealing with murderous lorry drivers, aggressive dogs and the perils of saying the wrong thing in the wrong place never wear thin, it is his assessment of the successes and eventual failings of communism and the way this has affected the people, culture and even physical appearance of Eastern Europe into the present day that elevate this above your standard travel journal.

The obvious comparison is Bill Bryson, and while Tim Moore does come close to emulating that style of humour, there's more to be said for this book. Moore does a wonderful job of relaying the maddening tedium and frustration of slogging through Finnish snow for hours on end, and the strangely comparable feeling of slogging up and down Balkan mountains in brain-melting heat. He also has a knack for capturing the essence of a people - from the resolutely serious Finns to the surprisingly laid-back Serbs by way of Germans who live up to every stereotype - and the way in which nearly all of them are friendly and welcoming to a stranger in a way that is much rarer in the West. And he makes sure to put the national moods of the present in their proper historical context. It was these passages that I found most interesting of all - for instance, how the Finnish army held off the Russians for over a year at the start of World War II despite being outnumbered effectively ten to one, or how Romania is still yet to recover from Nicolae Ceausescu's utterly hopeless economic policies. While he does not hesitate to criticise the effects of communism on the area based on a solid foundation of growing up in '70s and '80s Britain, there are moments where he admits there were positives, and in fact seems to have reconsidered his position by the end of the book having met so many people who aren't necessarily any better off today.

All in all, while The Cyclist Who Went Out in the Cold works on its own as an entertaining yarn about Europe's toughest road trip, it goes much deeper as an analysis of just how varied and perhaps divided the continent still is.

4/5

A bicycle can be many things, even a musical instrument...