Rami explores Charles Stross' brilliant juxtaposition of Fleming, Lovecraft, and modern technology
In Stross' world, it turns out that magic is very closely related to applied mathematics. Pentacles are all well and good, but it's fractals that have real power. Algorithms can double as incantations, in a pinch, which is how The Jennifer Morgue's hacker protagonist Bob Howard got into the business in the first place. These days Bob works for the Laundry -- the ultra-secret British Government department that deals with the occult -- and knows better than to play with computer code that might inadvertently draw Nyarlathotep's attention.
Stross envisions a world in which a sort-of Lovecraftian background holds true -- the Deep Ones do slumber in the lightless depths of the oceans -- but it's not quite as horrific, because humanity has a secret treaty with them. And it's up to various government departments across the world to help ensure that occult activity is controlled, that the Benthic Treaty isn't violated, and that nobody finds out about all of it. As a Laundry computational demonologist, Bob thinks he's just going to yet another intergovernmental conference. He doesn't realize he's going to be thrown headfirst into a desperate mission to save the world, and he's completely unprepared to deal with his constraint: an enormous destiny-entanglement spell that forces all the players in the game to fit into an archetype from Ian Fleming's infamous imagination. He's even got a glamorous blonde companion, although she's rather more demonic than your average Bond girl.
The reason the above reads like an extended back-cover blurb is because I think The Jennifer Morgue deserves more than a typically spoiler-filled review. It's a hilarious romp that lampoons everything from bureaucratic belt-tightening to Microsoft Powerpoint, but holds its own with well-drawn characters, a fascinating environment of technology-magic integration, and a tight plot with plenty of action.
I have to admit that part of the reason I so enjoyed the book is because of the geek humor. Trained as a computer scientist, Stross knows his stuff well enough write without making any retch-inducing errors (unlike, say, Dan Brown) and throws in some brilliant jokes that, while geeky, are generally accessible to anyone who knows their way around the Internet (tongue-in-cheek use of l33t-sp34k, or the name of the villain's company, for instance).
Yes, parts of it are a little cliched -- given one of the constraints central to the plot, they almost have to be -- but Stross even manages to throw a twist into the reader's expected playing-out of the Bond tradition. And it's unlikely to date especially well, being littered with references to current technology (Windows Vista) and popular trends (poking fun at chavs), but these are really just minor niggles about a very good novel that I'd recommend to anyone. You can even borrow my copy...
Stross envisions a world in which a sort-of Lovecraftian background holds true -- the Deep Ones do slumber in the lightless depths of the oceans -- but it's not quite as horrific, because humanity has a secret treaty with them. And it's up to various government departments across the world to help ensure that occult activity is controlled, that the Benthic Treaty isn't violated, and that nobody finds out about all of it. As a Laundry computational demonologist, Bob thinks he's just going to yet another intergovernmental conference. He doesn't realize he's going to be thrown headfirst into a desperate mission to save the world, and he's completely unprepared to deal with his constraint: an enormous destiny-entanglement spell that forces all the players in the game to fit into an archetype from Ian Fleming's infamous imagination. He's even got a glamorous blonde companion, although she's rather more demonic than your average Bond girl.
The reason the above reads like an extended back-cover blurb is because I think The Jennifer Morgue deserves more than a typically spoiler-filled review. It's a hilarious romp that lampoons everything from bureaucratic belt-tightening to Microsoft Powerpoint, but holds its own with well-drawn characters, a fascinating environment of technology-magic integration, and a tight plot with plenty of action.
I have to admit that part of the reason I so enjoyed the book is because of the geek humor. Trained as a computer scientist, Stross knows his stuff well enough write without making any retch-inducing errors (unlike, say, Dan Brown) and throws in some brilliant jokes that, while geeky, are generally accessible to anyone who knows their way around the Internet (tongue-in-cheek use of l33t-sp34k, or the name of the villain's company, for instance).
Yes, parts of it are a little cliched -- given one of the constraints central to the plot, they almost have to be -- but Stross even manages to throw a twist into the reader's expected playing-out of the Bond tradition. And it's unlikely to date especially well, being littered with references to current technology (Windows Vista) and popular trends (poking fun at chavs), but these are really just minor niggles about a very good novel that I'd recommend to anyone. You can even borrow my copy...
