Blood in the Fruit, by L. Timmel Duchamp

Blood in the Fruit
L. Timmel Duchamp
Aqueduct Press: 2008

Blood in the Fruit is a novel which deserves a more meticulous review than I am able to give at this time, but I also do not want the book to go unremarked on. So here we are.

Blood in the Fruit is the fourth volume on the Marq’ssan Cycle written by L. Timmel Duchamp. The first three are Alanya to Alanya, Renegade, and Tsunami. The Marq’ssan Cycle, as a whole, is a series of social and moral ideas played out in bold and clear strokes with characters actively conscious of motivation, identity, and theory. The ideas here are what is important.

As I mentioned in my review of Tsunami

This is a highly political novel filled with depth of thought. Duchamp uses dialogue and the inner narration of the characters to explain political and power philosophy. Duchamp may be a bit blunt and obvious in the handling of this political discourse, but by this point it is part and parcel of the story Duchamp is telling. She is telling a political and feminist story, and if that was going to be a problem it would have been a problem in Alanya to Alanya.

With a lesser writer this would be a flaw. With Duchamp it is simple intent and purpose, though nothing is truly “simple” with L.Timmel Duchamp’s writing.

Set some ten years after the events of Alanya to Alanya, Blood in the Fruit focuses on Hazel Bell (assistant to Elizabeth Weatherall, a major player in this series), Celia Espin and Alexandra Sedgewick (daughter to Robert Sedgewick, the primary antagonist of Alanya to Alanya, though that term does not quite convey his role in the series).

With Elizabeth Weatherall’s defection in the previous book, the ruling Executive of the United States is in shambles and fighting to come to grips with its growing ineffectiveness in doing anything to stop the “alien agenda” or protect its grasp of power, and to combat this, the formerly retired (and broken) Robert Sedgewick is stepping back into a position of clear authority. Through the eyes of his sixteen year old daughter, Alexandra, the extent of his character is laid clear. Sedgewick is grooming Alexandra, much to her dismay, to assume a greater degree of authority and power in the Executive.

While the other characters experience their own personal traumas (none moreso than Celia), Alexandra’s story is a painful bit of “coming-of-age”, shaped as it is by Robert Sedgewick.

Alexandra’s story is on the verge of being the simplest and the easiest part of the narrative, but though Duchamp tells her story in a straightforward manner, Alexandra’s “coming-of-age” is deeply problematic from a moral perspective, as grotesque in its way as anything in the previous novels – the torture of Kay Zeldin included (though, perhaps not to that extent).

By no means should one attempt to read Blood in the Fruit without having read the previous three volumes. This is almost a standalone volume, in the sense that the events of the novel can be understood without prior history with the Marq’ssan Cycle, but it is a richer story with deeper meaning if the reader has taken the full journey thus far.

Duchamp builds socio-political change in this series and does so in very stark terms. While not to every reader’s taste, Blood in the Fruit is an excellent and powerful novel. Very well done.


Reading copy provided courtesy of Aqueduct Press.

Previous Reviews:
Alanya to Alanya
Renegade
Tsunami

Tsunami, by L. Timmel Duchamp

Tsunami
L. Timmel Duchamp
Aqueduct Press: 2007

Tsunami is set almost ten years after the conclusion of the previous volume in the Marq’ssan Cycle, Renegade. Tsunami does not reboot this series, exactly, but it refocuses the nature of the storyline. The Executive is once again operating openly in the world and in the wake of years of war, consolidating power. The Free Zones, under the nominal protection of the Marq’ssan, are building the vision the Marq’ssan presented – that of a free and cooperative society. The leaders of the Free Zones are building alliances and cooperation with other, more supportive governments, and are working towards equality.

There are three primary character perspectives in Tsunami: Elizabeth Weatherall, Martha Greenglass, and Celia Espin. After the first two novels, Weatherall and Greenglass are rather well known characters. Celia Espin is new. She is a human rights lawyer who, for doing her job, gets in trouble with the Executive. This brings Celia into the larger narrative of Tsunami – that of the conflict between the Free Zone and the Executive. Or, more accurately, the conflict complete social and political change.

Ultimately, Tsunami is a novel about power. The power of the Executive. The power of the Marq’ssan. The power of the Free Zone and the power of change. One of the many ways Duchamp demonstrates this is through Elizabeth Weatherall. Weatherall has been the de facto leader of the Security branch of the Executive for more than a decade. As the personal assistant to Robert Sedgwick, she wielded Sedgwick’s power when he was not able to. Weatherall had all the power of Security in everything but name. At any time any of the other senior leaders of the Executive could trump Weatherall by going to Sedgwick. Tsunami features a major power struggle between Weatherall and Sedgwick and this struggle is central to the narrative and the shape of the series.

This is a highly political novel filled with depth of thought. Duchamp uses dialogue and the inner narration of the characters to explain political and power philosophy. Duchamp may be a bit blunt and obvious in the handling of this political discourse, but by this point it is part and parcel of the story Duchamp is telling. She is telling a political and feminist story, and if that was going to be a problem it would have been a problem in Alanya to Alanya.

I hate to use cliché when talking about a work of this depth, but Tsunami is, in a sense, a case of the “dread” Middle Book Syndrome. First, it is a true middle novel, the third of five. That has nothing to do with the Syndrome because some book HAS to be the third book of five. The thing is, on a superficial level, Tsunami fits the bill. Duchamp moves characters from Point A to Point B (not necessarily physical locations, but in story terms) and sets up the direction of the series is to go with the next volume Blood in the Fruit. Specifically, I’m talking about Elizabeth Weatherall. Weatherall opens Tsunami in her previous role as Sedgewick’s Personal Assistant but in the very first pages Sedgewick confronts Weatherall with her actions in Renegade, the emotional torture and breaking of Kay Zeldin. This sets the tone and the gradual change in Weatherall’s position and political beliefs. Weatherall, more than any other character in Tsunami, is absolutely central to the story Duchamp is telling with this series and it is the changes in Weatherall that will set up Blood in the Fruit.

The thing is, there is far less of a clearly defined story in Tsunami than there was in either Alanya to Alanya or Renegade. The three character perspectives do not come together to build a unified whole. Rather, they remain mostly distinct stories which serve to better set up the next two volumes. This does not make Tsunami any less readable or enjoyable, but it does prevent Tsunami from in any way standing on its own as a novel. It is entirely dependent on what came before and what will come next. That’s fine, but it worth noting that what readers may have expected after Renegade is not at all what Duchamp gives the readers. The tension does not ratchet up as it did with the Weatherall / Zeldin showdown in Renegade. The closest to that sort of dramatic tension that is contained within Tsunami is the political / emotional interactions between Weatherall and Sedgwick. While these are arguably the highlights of the novel, they do not deliver the same visceral punch as did the first two novels.

In the end, Tsunami is a solid novel, if not as impressive as the previous two. It sets the stage for what are likely to be two explosive (politically, if not with action) novels. The fallout from Weatherall’s actions and the larger role the Marq’ssan took in this novel will be worth checking out.


Previous Reviews
Alanya to Alanya
Renegade

Renegade, by L. Timmel Duchamp

Renegade
L. Timmel Duchamp
Aqueduct Press: 2006


Renegade is set one year after the aliens came and de-structured the way human society works, humanity has attempted to put the pieces back together. The stated long-term goal of the Marq’ssan was to remake human society into a more cooperative and peaceful society. After disintegrating a number of military assets of the United States government (and likely worldwide, but Duchamp tightly focused Alanya to Alanya on the United States, specifically the Pacific Northwest), and destabilized the government as a whole by destroying communications networks, the Marq’ssan set up a number of Free Zones around the world where humans would be “free” to set up a more cooperative and independent way of life not tied to the extremely hierarchical “Executive” system that was previously in place. Central to the action of Alanya to Alanya was Kay Zeldin, a Seattle history professor and former Executive agent. Zeldin was initially tasked to be the analytical eyes of the United States as a silent “negotiator” with the Marq’ssan. The negotiation did not work out the way the Executive had planned and Zeldin ended up assisting the Marq’ssan and was instrumental in the creation of the Free Zones.

In August 2077 the Seattle Free Zone has something of a functioning society working and the beginning of trade with other nations and other Free Zones. The patriarchal Executive government has been replaced in the Free Zone with a more anarchic / communist society which is shaped not by men, but by women. Part of the conceit of these novels is that the male dominated way of authoritative government has failed and has led, if not exactly to the subjugation of women, but certainly to the disrespect of and dismissal of the capabilities of women. The glass ceiling is not only firmly in place, but it has been sealed with concrete. In Alanya to Alanya the negotiators requested by the Marq’ssan were specified only to be women. This, and the fact that the Free Zones were founded / led by women has resulted in a backlash against women by some of the newly disempowered men. The new Cooperatives have had a year of struggle to survive and flourish without the luxuries generally provided by a civil government.

The opening chapters of Renegade are prologue to what will be the meat of the novel, but this prologue of 182 pages serves to demonstrate the changes that have occurred in the year following the conclusion of Alanya to Alanya. While the world of Alanya to Alanya was an exaggerated vision of our own, it was also recognizable in many ways. The conclusion of Alanya to Alanya marked a paradigm shift for how that future world of ours would work. Renegade picks up on that, shows the reader the Cooperatives, revisits minor characters from Alanya to Alanya, and also shows the reader what some of the major conflicts are in the Free Zones. Some issues facing the Free Zones are agents from the existing Executive government of the rest of the United States, anger from males who wish power, and the overall struggle to create an entirely new way of life. Growing pains.

All of this is prologue to what must be considered the primary story of Renegade: Kay Zeldin versus Elizabeth Weatherall. In the year following Alanya to Alanya’s conclusion, Kay Zeldin has been hunted by agents of the Executive. Elizabeth Weatherall, the personal assistant to Robert Sedgewick (the head of the Security branch of the Executive), is leading the hunt to capture Zeldin. All Zeldin knows is that if she isn’t careful she will be taken, interrogated, and killed. Despite this threat for her life, Zeldin searches for her husband, one of many scientists who disappeared under the guise of working on a “secret project” for the Executive. This search, however, will expose Zeldin to Weatherall’s team hunting her.

The back cover of Renegade claims that Zeldin and Weatherall will “risk all she has become in no-holds-barred, mortal combat”. This is extremely misleading as it suggests something along the lines of a cage-fight, or less crassly, a physical contest between the champions of two armies where the outcome will decide the war. Renegade is not that kind of novel.

The meat of Renegade is an intellectual battle of wills between Kay Zeldin and Elizabeth Weatherall. It is no spoiler to disclose that Zeldin is eventually captured by the Security forces and the battle is not a knock-down drag-out physical confrontation. It is a conflict of captivity, of interrogation, of Stockholm Syndrome, of so dominating the will of the other that her will is co-opted.

There are two things at play in this battle of wills. First, the reader never gets the story through the eyes of Elizabeth Weatherall. Instead, Duchamp’s choice of perspective is Weatherall’s personal assistant Allison. Allison is a young Executive woman and is somewhat politically naïve. This permits Duchamp to give huge info-dumps on the motivations of Elizabeth Weatherall in the form of a Socratic dialogue between Weatherall and Allison. Allison asks a question, admits that she does not understand, and Weatherall spends paragraphs (and pages) explaining the reasoning, often in dismissive language, for Weatherall’s actions. Allison plays the role of the student, saying one or two things to lead Weatherall to continue the monologue (which is essentially what a Socratic dialogue is), and otherwise keep quiet.

Allison found Elizabeth's use of so many abstractions confusing. "I don't understand what you mean when you talk about these structures and reality and so on."

Elizabeth sighed. "I'm sure you'll see what I mean as the experiment proceeds. But let me try to explain. In the first place, the only source of a non-solipsistic reality for her while she is in that cell is me: I'm the only thing outside of herself that can assure her of her own existence." - pg 216-217

The thing that sets Renegade apart from Alanya to Alanya has little do with the Marq’ssan, the human / alien conflict, or even the attempts to build a new human society outside the bounds of what is generally known as “civilization”. What sets Renegade apart and distinct from Alanya to Alanya is just how intellectual and self-aware the characters are of their motivations and actions. There is a great deal of self-analysis from Kay Zeldin and Elizabeth Weatherall in exactly what their actions means intellectually and morally and Duchamp allows her characters to clearly define the larger meaning of everything they say and do.

"You apologize. For what exactly do you apologize, Kay?"

Kay swallowed. Weatherall was going to make it as hard as she could. "I apologize for using ideological and inflammatory words, and for being rude to you."

"Let me see. What was it you said during my last visit about moral authority . . . Does this mean you grant me the moral authority to punish you?"

Kay hated her own stupidity in having supplied Weatherall with such ammunition. pg 247

On one hand this is a fascinating exercise that defines in literal terms what everything in the novel means. There is always a question of whether the characters are telling the truth when explaining their actions, or if they are capable of accurately evaluating their own motivations. This is most important to consider in the character of Elizabeth Weatherall, because unlike Kay Zeldin, we only see Weatherall through the eyes of her personal assistant and lover, Allison. The reader is given detailed intellectual explanation from the mouth of Elizabeth Weatherall, but the reader is never in Weatherall’s head. So, as far as it goes, Renegade is an intellectual battle taking the form of captivity and privation.

The flip side is that most of Renegade is a huge instance of tell and not show. Because the characters so frequently pontificate the reasons behind their actions, the reader is being force-fed the story rather than experiencing the novel and coming up with his or her own interpretation. This can be a major turn-off for many readers.

L. Timmel Duchamp did such a good job in Alanya to Alanya in creating this situation that so hooked the reader that even through chapters of info-dump and pages of detailed explanations of motivations, the readers are so engaged with the characters that Renegade never feels flat. By all rights it should feel flat, but it never does. Duchamp ratchets up the tension chapter by chapter because the reader has no real expectation or pre-understanding of how this story should resolve itself. The ending, as far as the reader is concerned, is not set and Duchamp is willing to do Very Bad Things to her characters and protagonists.

Renegade is a very different novel from Alanya to Alanya. It is much more introspective and self-evaluating. There are hundreds of pages with Zeldin in captivity and because of this, Renegade has a feeling of stagnation, that things may never change. This comes through the perspective of Kay Zeldin, of course, but the reader experiences it for an extended period of time and over the course of a large number of pages.

Very likely, whatever aims L. Timmel Duchamp had in writing Renegade were met. She is a good enough writer to be able to accomplish what she sets out to do, and the extended captivity sequences were integral to the novel. Through these sequences and through the eyes of Allison, the reader learns so much more about what Elizabeth Weatherall is willing to do (though never why she is willing to do them). It is these same sequences, however, that may discourage some readers.

As a whole, Renegade is not a completely satisfying novel. It comes on the heels of a much more straightforward Alanya to Alanya and there is still the knowledge that there are three more volumes in the Marq’ssan Cycle to come. How Renegade is viewed will likely depend entirely on the final three novels. The story it tells, on deeper reflection, is a fascinating one. If the comparison is even remotely appropriate, it has echoes of Primo Levi’s Survival in Auschwitz. For Kay Zeldin, it is certainly that kind of personal story (as it was for Levi), though certainly on a larger scale there is no comparison as the captivity is centralized on Kay Zeldin and not put into a larger context of what Survival in Auschwitz really was about (one man’s experience to help explain a much larger and incomprehensible genocide – the Shoah). On a smaller scale, though, Kay Zeldin’s captivity and her emotional responses and breakdowns are relatable.

Renegade does require that deeper reflection. The superficial reading will likely leave the reader feeling cold and unsatisfied after some of the vibrancy of Alanya to Alanya. The choice of the word “superficial” is not meant to denigrate a particular reading style or the capabilities of understanding of various readers, but rather to show that Renegade only benefits from distance and thought. In writing this review my final opinion changed from an unenthusiastic shrug to a more grudging appreciation for what story L. Timmel Duchamp told. Renegade does come across as cold and intellectual (read: unemotional) at times, but as part of the larger series I believe that Renegade will ultimately be a successful novel, though perhaps not a favorite novel.

Previous Review
Alanya to Alanya

Alanya to Alanya, by L. Timmel Duchamp

Alanya to Alanya
L. Timmel Duchamp
Aqueduct Press

When the aliens came in 2076 they announced themselves with a worldwide message stating who they were (Marq'ssan from a distant world), why they came to Earth (to remake human society / culture into a more cooperative and peaceful society, just like the Marq'ssan), what they expected (each nation to provide three women to negotiate on behalf of the nations), and what the Marq'ssan were about to do (block all electronic signals and communication devices on the planet). Then, the Marq'ssan did exactly what they said and a worldwide blackout was in place. The reader experiences this through the eyes (third person perspective) of Kay Zeldin, a history professor in Seattle. The logical first thought was hackers. The second, when the extent of the blackout in Seattle became known, was terrorists. It was the only possible explanation becase, after all, aliens aren't real and terrorists are.

As the story progresses Kay Zeldin is constantly insulted by the members of the Executive, the true leaders of the world and of the United States government. Her former lover is the Executive in charge of all Security in the United States Robert Sedgwick and he recruits Zeldin to be one of the three US women to negotiate. Except that she is not to actually engage in any negotiation because she is not a member of the Executive Class nor is she male. Zeldin is to observe, report back, and let the men negotiate. From Sedgwick and the other Executives who appear in Alanya to Alanya there is a very strong anti-female / anti-feminist viewpoint and it is both insinuated and stated clearly that for Zeldin to be successful she needs to act more masculine and that no male would be subject to fits of emotion or compromise like a woman is.

Were Alanya to Alanya not published by Aqueduct Press the feminist perspective of the novel would be obvious and would be noted as it is inherent to the story Duchamp is telling. However, being published by Aqueduct makes this explicit as the first paragraph of the publisher’s mission statement is:

Aqueduct Press dedicates itself to publishing challenging, feminist science fiction. We promise to bring our readers work that will stretch the imagination and stimulate thought.

Alanya to Alanya is exactly that. Outside of a bit of over-the-top female-hating at the Executive level of government / society, Alanya to Alanya does not slap the reader in the face with feminist diatribe (or anti-feminist, which gets the point across just as well). The Sedgwick stuff, in particular, is difficult to read because of just how insulting and degrading it is to women. While it is certainly possible that such behavior exists in America in particular spheres of society (whether government or business), I sincerely hope that such behavior is extremely limited. The problem, I suspect, is that while the overt behavior is limited there is still a symptomatic hierarchy where men have the majority of the most powerful jobs and government positions and while they (we?) can point to examples of women who have achieved such power and position, those women can be used to demonstrate just how progressive they (we) are when, in fact, achieving said position may be more aberration than the general rule. What Alanya to Alanya does so well is make what may be hidden under the surface or flat out denied (yet remaining true) to be out front and over-obvious.

Beyond this Executive level overt hatred which underlies the core of the story and creates the backdrop which is 2076 Earth, the rest of Alanya to Alanya interacts with that hatred but is not ruled by it. The Marq’ssan envision remaking Earth in the manner in which they were able to remake their homeworld: by completely changing their society. However, the challenge for the Marq’ssan is that on their homeworld they were able to impose changes from within. Their society changed. With Earth they are imposing their will on humanity and even though they strive to have humanity negotiate its own terms and the Marq’ssan just supervise, it is still an imposed change upon the ruling elite. That such a change is not necessarily a bad thing or wrong (unless one happens to be a member of said privileged elite) it would / will result in great social, economic, and political upheaval and the cost will not be cheap.

Perhaps more than anything else, this is what L. Timmel Duchamp excels at with Alanya to Alanya: She gets that any social change will not come easy and even if the political / social structure of 2076 is an exaggerated dystopian vision of today, changing any entrenched political / social structure will be incredibly difficult and painful. Even if there are aliens with “magic” weapons that can safely turn anything into rubble, the problems caused by upheaval still have to be solved by the people on the ground: i.e. humans. Despite the opening riff with the message from the Marq’ssan and the various forays onto the Marq’ssan ship, Alanya to Alanya is a deeply human story that gets into how people interact and view each other based on gender. The aliens are only a quiet sideshow, the tool in which Duchamp uses to explore behavior and the repression (suppression?) of women.

Great. That’s what Alanya to Alanya is about. More or less. But is it any good? Is it worth reading as a story?

Absolutely.

L. Timmel Duchamp has created a compelling and mostly believable protagonist in Kay Zeldin. Zeldin is hyper-competent at what she does (historical analysis, seeking patterns, communication), but that which falls outside her sphere of ability she struggles with (anything physical). Zeldin’s journey through the invasion and her role as an agent of a government which hates her as much as it needs to use here is not only an interesting concept, but well executed by Duchamp. Most importantly Duchamp has written a highly readable and compelling narrative. Compelling is possibly the perfect word for Alanya to Alanya because most readers will feel compelled to keep going, to turn the page, to find out what happens next all the while being told a story which happens to be “challenging, feminist science fiction””. Alanya to Alanya works and works well enough that readers will want to seek out, run not walk, and grab a copy of the second volume of the Marq’ssan Cycle: Renegade.