Dealer, I'd Like a New Card

I’ve already written about Orson Scott Card, and I still believe he wrote one of the best pieces of literature, let alone science fiction, of the Twentieth Century. That being said, is latest work is not only not one of the greatest pieces of literature of the Twenty-first Century, I would venture to say that Card has lost contact with what has made him a great writer in the first place; or, perhaps more accurately, has bastardized what he does so well into a story that is not well suited for it.

Empire is disjointed from the beginning, and very little is done to alleviate this. Set in the “near future” (almost literally “tomorrow”), it is a political drama centered on the idea that the next armed conflict that American’s will likely face is that between the ideological extremes that make up our political landscape.

In other words, a civil war between Red Staters and Blue Staters.

That in and of itself is problematic, a point that Card is quick to point out: These labels are constructs of political analysts looking for a way to reduce the country into easily identifiable groups. Unfortunately, there is no such thing as a universally Red or Blue state, even those states that seem to be swayed one way or the other. For example, my own state, New York, is a dead-zone for Republican Presidential hopefuls. Nevertheless, the state is almost evenly split in its liberal and conservative sentiments, constituting a geographical dichotomy between downstate and upstate (and I apologize if my language is overly “academic,” but I’ve been reading a lot of critical theory recently, and it’s hard to get that bad taste out of my pen). Thus, Card correctly points out that the division in our country is more centered on urban and rural than anything else. However, this does not preclude him from making jabs at obvious “liberal hotbeds,” such as Vermont, Washington, Oregon, and of course, New York City.

And here’s where a major problem lies: Card does not hide his political ideals. That alone is no cause for dislike; many of the greatest stories ever told have strong thoughts about the politics they are writing about (think George Orwell). Those stories, though, are overt in there declarations. Card tries to mask his contempt for liberal thought by making his characters so smart and well-versed in all political theory that they seem to be coming from an objective view-point. Except, it really doesn’t fly. From the outset, he tries to mask who the real perpetrators of conflict are, but his red herrings regarding the Right Wing are so obvious that they seem almost laughable. Sure, there are power-hungry conservatives, but it is truly the moderates who are in control of the party during the crisis, and that is supposed to portray the nature of our country. And while I feel this is actually true, personally, it is still a hard pill to swallow in the context of what happens next. Because when you find out it is in fact a liberal conspiracy, it’s a diabolical left-wing conspiracy.

I would go out to say that if you are not conservative, especially in the sense of the word as it applies to our current political climate, you are not going to like this book.

But I would also say that if you are a conservative, but enjoy good literature, you will also not enjoy this book, and here’s why: it’s not well written. As I mentioned before, it’s disjointed. In the first couple of chapters you are jolted from places and times very rapidly, all essentially to get an idea of the main character, Reuben Malich. We know, for example, that he fought in Afghanistan with the Special Ops. Then we know he went to Princeton to earn a doctorate on the government’s dime. Then we know him to be a mysterious Major at the Pentagon, and BAM! the President is being assassinated by terrorists and the world is turned upside down. Through all this, we are shown that Malich is antagonistic towards liberal sentiment (although he “really isn’t,” because he married a Democrat – a Democrat who was an assistant to the most conservative Congressman and, if she is a Democrat, has no spine regarding any of those issues that would make her consider herself one) and that, because he now has a doctorate, is smart enough to hold the ridiculous “I learned history” discussions of which Card is so fond. In this regard, you will recognize similar ideas from any of the Ender books, but it must be remembered: Ender and all the other kids in those books, were geniuses. Not smart, not gifted: GENIUSES. And, even remembering that Malich has a doctorate, no one else he speaks to, except for his professor, Torrent, does. But, since one-sided dialogues don’t really move plot along, everyone else is also extraordinarily talented.

Even Malich’s kids.

But that is possibly just quibbling. I know I’ve had ridiculous discussions with my friends about politics and history, and they must have seemed just as pretentious to others as Card’s dialogue seems to me. So let me talk about the plot: it just doesn’t fly.

The assassination of the President, okay. I can take that as a “plausible” premise (here I’m talking about the actual plan that was used, not just the idea of killing the President). I can even, to an extent, understand the idea of using Malich as a scapegoat. What I can’t condone is how fast and convenient the action occurs.

Malich, who had come up with the warning report that the terrorists use to kill the President, happens to witness it before his eyes on the same day he meets Cole, his new number 2. Then he happens to be in New York City when the liberals (Progressives, can’t let that word-choice go untold), attack with their secretly built futuristic weaponry. He does an okay job of explaining how the weapons were developed (except for the EMP ray, which gets used once, and then is forgotten for the rest of the book). He gets shot by his secretary (which means they must have been setting him up for so long that it seems someone must have been prescient – more on this later) midway through the book, and so all of a sudden you are left without the protagonist. This here deserves a closer look.

The shock, or twist, is a literary staple, and in science fiction, it is almost necessary. However, to invest so much time in one character, to the complete detriment of all other characters, only to kill him off halfway through the novel is jarring and discombobulating. The reader has certain expectations, and one of those is to understand that the protagonist will be developed. Therefore, when you have only developed one character enough to claim that role, and you kill him off, it will be upsetting. I’m granting this is exactly what Card wanted. But he doesn’t then produce another protagonist for the reader to identify with. Instead, he just goes on with the characters he has, and expects that his brief characterization earlier was enough to give you enough sense of how to interact with the story. In this, he fails. When Cole takes over the lead role (in conjunction with Cecily, Malich’s wife), you never learn anything more about how they tick. And this just seems like bad or lazy writing.

And possibly that’s my problem: it was too short. The idea is there – clearly politics in America are at a point where violence is not implausible. You need a bad guy, you have two sides, so you pick the one you already think to be the bad guy. Again, fine, I have no real beef with that, from a reader’s perspective. But to have this all be resolved so quickly, with what seems to be a minimum of fuss, is preposterous. Throughout the book, both sides talk about how it won’t be military maneuvers, but public perception that changes the tides. And yet, in the end, it is exactly a military maneuver (in order to gather “information ammo”), that resolves the crisis. And it is the impeccably clean Torrent, who eschews political parties, who ends up ushering America towards the very thing he had warned against: an Empire.

This is supposed to be ominous, but it reeks of Revelations. If you are unfamiliar with this book of the bible, or if you have not read the Left Behind series (which you should not, by any means, do – also because it is disappointing in the end), then I will explain: Revelations tells of a man who will come, speaking of peace and prosperity, but will in fact bring these things at the price of the people selling their souls to a false idol. He will be charismatic and seemingly rise from humble beginnings.

His name: The Anti-Christ.

I don’t know if this is what Card is alluding to, but I find it hard for someone with his religious background and beliefs to be unaware that this is almost overly coincidental.

Oh yeah, his portrayal of Cecily will no doubt be read as being highly misogynistic by some, and by being the epitome of family values by others. Personally, I don’t think Card is being misogynistic, but I do want to point out how those two things appear to be diametrically opposed.

Do yourself a favor: Read Ender’s Game. Read the sequels and parallel novels. But do not read Empire. You’ll recognize the voice, but not the writer. I think Card has forgotten what it means to write fiction, at least with this as his latest example. I hope he can recover, because it’s always disenchanting to see an idol fall. I understand how hard it is to maintain excellence with every piece you write, so I am not done with him yet.

I’m sure that relieves him to no end.