Showing posts with label Matt Ruff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Matt Ruff. Show all posts

Sunday, June 22, 2014

Bohemian Hipsters, Spiritual Canines, Tolkien House and the Infinite Monkey Theorem

Fool on the Hill
by Matt Ruff
p. 1988




Even though Sewer, Gas & Electric was my first foray into the delightful world of Matt Ruff, I still have Ruff’s debut novel, Fool on the Hill, to credit for the introduction because it was this book, and not the former that a friend recommended years ago. I loved Sewer, Gas, & Electric so much that I convinced myself to save Fool on the Hill for later to, like, savor the goodness or something. I don’t know; clearly I was an idiot, as there is probably no limit to how many times one can enjoy a Matt Ruff novel. There is just so much there to digest and his style is endearingly ADD. I get the feeling that both of these books will be even more enjoyable to me the second time around.

I said in my review of Sewer, Gas, & Electric two years ago that Ruff is fond of massive character rosters and convoluted plots. Just like the former, Fool on the Hill boasts an array of irreverent, liberal characters just bloated enough to require a two-page cast list for reference (and you will use it if you read this book) and a complicated, messy plot that all comes together for a comprehensive final act. In Fool on the Hill, the characters are divided into five main groups: Stephen Titus George and Aurora (the ‘white knight’ and the ‘princess’), the Bohemians (larger than life college students that play around the edges of the plot), Luther and Blackjack (the animals on a spiritual quest), the sprites (invisible to most humans, but affecting the plot nonetheless), and an omniscient otherworldly narrator, Mr. Sunshine. Each of those groups is divided into subgroup consisting of various combinations, with others weaving in and out of the story—a pair of Ithaca cops, some engineering students building a float, Aurora’s impulsive but doting father, a preppy frat boy villain.

Ganted, I—more than most readers—really take to comprehensive ensemble stories, so I am inclined to like Ruff’s style more than others generally would. I did not in the least regret having such a large list to keep track of, but it should be warned that others might. That said, I think it’s worth pointing out that while Ruff’s characters are often of a similar hivemind, and few of them are intensively explored, they all manage to stand out in unique ways. One of the things I kept noticing about Ruff’s characters is that even the smallest one, a character who, in any other story, would be a throwaway, manage to reveal something about themselves that gives them some depth, like Aurora’s long dead brother whose spontaneity and spirit forever changed her interaction with her father, or the Bohemian who joined the group long before our story ever started because he was pursuing a member who dropped out after being assaulted by a rival frat brother. All of these things seem so inconsequential but it is really these types of details that fill in the space between the lines.

The story takes place at Cornell University over the course of a school year and there are a lot of elements guiding the plot, not the least of which is Mr. Sunshine, a ‘Greek original,’ who occasionally sticks his hand in to mold the plot directly but is mostly content to sit back and watch fate play itself out. The sprites were generally my least favorite part of the story, but it is their misguided but well-intentioned actions that release the evil that the human characters have to deal with in the end, so they are crucial, even if they never talk to anyone else. Luther and Blackjack were definitely my favorite parts of the story, though the Bohemians will hold a special place in your heart, just for the sheer ludicrousness of them all. This whole book is a messy but fun mix of adventure, fantasy, romance and humor that just keeps adding layer upon layer.

Fool on the Hill was Ruff’s debut novel, and I didn’t find it quite as riotous as Sewer, Gas & Electric but to be fair, I knew what to expect this time and that changed the way I read it. I’d easily put it on par with the former, in terms of humor, and I am beyond thrilled to see how much more Ruff has in store.

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Mutant Sewer Sharks, Killer Robot Servants, and Walt Disney

Sewer, Gas, & Electric: The Public Works Trilogy
by Matt Ruff
p. 1997



Sewer, Gas, and Electric is exactly the kind of frenetic, insane romp that I never knew I was missing in my life, and it has made me an instant devotee of author Matt Ruff. The author was recommended to me by a friend; though I was directed to his earlier book, Fool on a Hill, I happened to find this one in at JKB first, so I tried it out and I can definitely conclude that Fool on a Hill will be bumped up a few places on my list of things to read next.

Written in the early nineties but taking place in 2023, Sewer, Gas, and Electric is... far too complex to explain in a simple review. It can be accused of being ‘convoluted’ but it is convoluted in a good way. The wide array of characters and the intersecting subplots not only move the main story along, but it creates enough distraction to surprise you with the ending. Characters and devices are introduced in the first acts and disappear just long enough to lead you to believe they were red herrings, before establishing their deus ex machina ulterior motives.

The way I understand it, it is Matt Ruff’s characters that decide whether or not you’ll be a fan of this book. For starters, there are a lot of them, so many in fact that a character guide—which I had to consult frequently in the first 50 pages—proves itself as a handy tool. Given the recent popularity of Game of Thrones, however, I would expect this to not be an insurmountable problem. Then again, I am a big fan of quirky ensemble casts and I am fairly used to keeping them straight, but not everyone is. It has been opined that all of Ruff’s characters possess a singular jaded, at times prescient, but mostly resigned sarcasm that cause them to blend together to the point that they are really just one character—surrogates of Matt Ruff himself—and to an extent, I actually agree that they do seem somewhat similar, but it was all so much fun that I hard time complaining. I guess it comes down to whether or not you enjoy and agree with Ruff’s world view. If you despise the man and his outlook, you’re less likely to enjoy the ride than if, like myself, you’re content to sit back and go with the flow.

One of the things I enjoyed most about SG&E, aside from the off the wall characters, was Ruff’s subversion of popular cliches and tropes. One of the first points of view represented to the reader is possessed by a character who is promptly devoured by a mutant sewer shark. The shocking turn serves to keep you on your toes, not so much for the mutant sewer shark part, but for the fact that the narrative is misleading and no one is safe. Near the end of the book, the good old ‘will-I-shoot-the-good-twin-or-the-evil-twin’ trope is quickly and quite literally shot down without hesitation. My favorite subversion of convention is probably that the novel’s female characters are also the strongest, physically and emotionally. Perhaps I’ve been reading too many halcyon days sci fi, but I’m used to seeing strong women underrepresented, so it was a relief, in this modern tale, to see women take the forefront and solve their own problems without needing to be saved.

It’s a bit funny reading this book as it predicts events that, to Ruff, happen in the future when for myself, it is already the distant past. Ruff combines a mess of made up effluvia with real life history and facts, with a few conspiracy theories thrown in. I found myself looking up every historical reference and was surprised to find how many of them were real. At the same time I was amused by Ruff’s predictions that did not come true as he envisioned. The best part of it all is that Ruff clearly states at the beginning of the book, his opinion on science fiction that tries to predict the future then fails... only to do the exact same thing himself. Obviously, Ruff threw caution to the wind, but at least he acknowledges his irreverence. Matt Ruff is someone whose tongue is pretty firmly embedded in his cheek with regards to a lot of issues, not the least of which is political correctness.

The best way to approach this book is not to read up on the plot; any vague description would sound far too silly and the Public Works trilogy is not a short book. It’s probably best to just turn off your critical inclinations, sit back, and enjoy the ride.