Vellum

Like any other year, 2005 was going to be a heavy book-buying year for me, and like every other year there are those dozen or so books I anticipated even more so than the rest of the worthy choices that I would be collecting to add to my book cases. The added anticipation of these “choice” works is born of pure personal speculation, books I have been waiting for, or authors who were above even being just proven commodities. It is out of these books I thought the cream of this year’s crop would derive from. Early in the year I welcomed Haruki Murakami’s Kafka on the Shore (although I read it a couple years ago in its original translation), not his best work, but he is one of the few authors who doesn’t have to write best work in a given year to have written the best book of the year. Coming into 2005, another anticipated work centered on what had become an annual tradition, asking the question, will George R.R. Martin finally deliver A Feast for Crows? In April, I read another fabulous work that became the best novel I read of 2005 upon completion, a novel I had been waiting for every since I heard its mention at Fantastic Metropolis, Tamar Yellin’s stunning Genizah at the House of Shepher. Upon reflection, I should just make it a practice to glance at the Pan Macmillan publication schedule. China Mieville’s Perdido Street Station (not to mention The Scar, and recent Arthur C. Clarke and Locus Fantasy award Winner Iron Council,) Jeff Vandermeer’s City of Saints and Madmen, and various works by Justina Robson, are part of as enviable a list reflecting recent quality as any in the genre (although those folks at Prime may have something to say, and justifiably so). This run of excellence is not lost on Macmillan, as accompanying the manuscript is a publicity statement that signals a debut that they are attaching the same significance with as the Ian Banks classic, The Wasp Factory. The novel I am referring to is the forthcoming debut novel from Scottish author Hal Duncan, and the first installment of his ‘Book of All Hours’ duology, Vellum. Thus far, one of the best novels I have read this year, an experience of such promise that already the sequel ‘Ink’, is an early entry for the short list of 2006 novels I am most anticipating

All that said, I wouldn’t even have been aware to even inquire on a review copy if I hadn’t run across its mention at Vanderworld, the online home of Jeff Vandermeer who said of it:

Not only that, some of us would kill to get the reputably, astoundingly aesthetically alluring, limited, and numbered advanced review copies circulating amongst the usual suspects, however even without this luxury, the contents of the book make it apparent why Vellum is the subject of both praise from noteworthy sources, and anticipation.

In Vellum, Duncan plunges us into a time nearing an apogee in what has been an eternal struggle, between rival factions, for dominion of the Vellum, the Earth being only a small part of it included. The Vellum has been described, and will continually be described here, as Duncan’s take on a Moorcockian multiverse, however I think it bears equal resemblance to Neal Gaiman’s setting for the Endless. The Vellum is reality itself, and all its possibilities, the true nature of which is written in a book lost to both factions, called The Book of All Hours.

The factions in this struggle are made up of the Covenant, a group of Angels led by Metatron (with a slightly more bad attitude than in Dogma), and that include others like Gabriel, and Michael, who desire to establish Paradise once again on earth, even if they have to destroy it first to remake it, and the other group, the Sovereigns, who don’t want anything to do with any Paradise they are not sitting at the head of. In between, are other unkin, who want nothing to do with either faction, except to live, and if necessary run, so they don’t have to be part of a struggle in which they think has no end, and if indeed there were one, neither would be more covetable than the other.

Duncan will take us through multiple PoV’s from the days of Sumerian times to the future, from reality, to other dimensions. These PoV’s center on, but are not exclusive to Seamus Finnan, a trailer park handyman, with an Irish accent. Phree, who lives in the same community as Finnan, who serves as a friend and in ways mentor to both her and her brother, Thomas. The other character is Jack, a strong-arm for the Covenant (although unknown to him). Both Jack and Phree are searching for Thomas (but with 2 distinctly different purposes). We will witness all these characters in various forms in familiar contemporary settings, and throughout historical and mythic events. Is Seamus Finnan just an Irishman, who loves his pints? Or is he Prometheus, the thief and provider of fire (who loves his pints)? Or something more? What does the Metatron want from Finnan? All 3 are unkin, and both factions are recruiting for a war thats ramifications won’t be limited to any single place, person, time, or even to reality.

In all of the settings, Duncan’s prose fully depicts each transition for the most part seamlessly, regardless of the variety and differences of the very distinctive settings or times, regardless if based on reality of if not. In various passages, Duncan sagaciously references others who no doubt influenced him and this work. After the very early reference to Lovecraft, we see other examples such as at a “hospital”, Finnan takes a look around:

In another scene, looking through the room of Jack, who is slipping into madness, we see nods to Michael Moorcock, and Alan Moore:

Duncan spins a fantasy with a SF element of nanotechnology, invoking memories of other novels while crafting a very unique work in it self. In a portion of the novel where a character in possession of the Book of All Hours is traveling for what would be for others an eternity, some of the descriptions of the locales visited on his journey made me feel like I was a great Khan listening to my Venetian explorer of his recent travels, yet at other times in the Vellum I felt I may be viewing alternate versions of Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty traveling the country side, Mr. Duncan, also took me, along with Phree, and Thomas, back to a locale I am personally familiar with, a small college town in North Carolina, a bohemian stronghold in the conservative South, and turned it into a gate to the Underworld. Through it all, whether reading of the Messenger twins (Phree and Thomas), Seamus, Jack, or even the voice of God himself, Metatron, in whatever manifestations, I felt like I may have been catching a glimpse of the world as Bill Lee/Burroughs saw it.

However, invoking various instances reminiscent of other monumental works, and acknowledging past and current master’s does not a great book make. Duncan’s story is his own. The density of some of the passages, will be viewed upon as unnecessary in length by some, of that I have no doubt, but one critic’s fluff is another reader’s window into the layers of richness in Duncan’s prose and narrative that capture and individualize each change in setting and its unique tone, even if they are representing the same occurrences just manifested in different times/places of the Vellum. This will cut either two ways, either annoying you with repetition or prove to imbed the relevance of particular moments into you. For me it was the latter, further more I found it both beneficial if not necessary, do to Duncan employing a narrative that regularly, and granted, at times abruptly, shifted, in regards to PoV, setting and the timeline.

The existance and nature of the Vellum is the single most exciting element within Duncan’s work. The possibilities are endless, as we can see from the infinite and opportunity fertile uses of the Moorcockian multiverse. It will be interesting to see what further stories Duncan will have as he plans on subsequent novels related to follow up ‘The Book of All Hour’s duology. However with such an ambitious tool, there are obstacles to be wary of related to maintaining relevancy of impact events in prior works or scenes especially when existing in a setting where the nature of reality itself is not absolute. I come away from Mr. Duncan’s debut thinking enough of his ability to recognize and avoiding such pitfalls.

As noted above, I thoroughly enjoyed Vellum, and the inclusion of Hal Duncan into the world of speculative fiction. Some portions of the novels invoked memories of other great works, and I enjoyed the references to other authors any fan of speculative fiction would appreciate. I admire the audacity in the implementation of a multiverse and the discipline shown not over-extending its use, while still painting it as something both fantastically boundless. Admittedly I thought some of segues were at times abrupt, and causing for anti-climatic feel, but there are enough pay-offs in Vellum to make those occasions forgettable and categorize them (and perhaps to lenient at times) as advancing the surreal climate of the novel. Most importantly, and regardless of all the rest, I ended my reading of Vellum with a desire to see how Mr. Duncan is going to conclude the story arc, as although interwoven, I’m interested to see how deftly Duncan can weave these fine threads into an equally satisfying product. Although we get a focus on many of the characters, both physically and in Vellum, perhaps more importantly metaphysically, I have a desire to read where their journeys take them, and if no destination is emminent, the continuation of their journey.

As strong of a debut as one could hope for, Duncan’s first effort demands his next work to be on every reputable “to read list”, no matter how short.

I'm off to rereading Vellum.

Jay
The Bodhisattva