Redshirts

I don't think I've ever seen a properly published piece of writing like this that was so in love with itself and it's premise; it's an absolute credit to Scalzi that this worked for me, because I got absolutely lost along with our crew of eponymous redshirts. I have only a passing familiarity with The Original Series but I had enough to grok the similarities between the bridge crew and that of the Enterprise; safe to say the depictions are imminently recognizable, which is good, because almost every page is the characters discussing the very peculiar meta-narrative dilemma they find themselves in and trying to figure a way to weasel out of it. Characterization takes a back seat; the only things we really learn about our characters by the end of the book is how they react, first to the realization of their predicament, then to the death of their peers, then to their evolving problems as they try to solve the overarching one. The main character, Dahl, is practically just a problem solving machine and snark generator; if the core conceit of the book didn't work I'm sure I would have found him terribly aggravating. If you don't like meta-meta-meta-narratives, stay far away; but if you enjoy a bit of the shameless self-indulgence that entails, you'll probably finish it in two sittings.

John Scalzi's dialog crackles with quick banter that makes his books worth reading:

Corey looked down and furrowed his brow. "Where are my pants?" he said. "We took them from you," Dahl said. "Why?" Corey said. "Because we need to talk to you," Dahl said. "You could do that without taking my pants," Corey said. "In a perfect world, yes," Dahl said.

-- John Scalzi, "Redshirts"

The only other Scalzi book I've read, Kiaju Preservation Society, let me down on plot—even when you remove the expected suspension of disbelief required of all sci-fi.

Fortunately, this book's plot holds up throughout the narrative.

The plot falls right out from the title. Think back to season one of "Star Trek: The Next Generation"—when the show was terrible. Think about all the nameless crew members who died on away missions. All those people had lives and families and worries. And their sad fate was to be devoured by Borgovian land worms. Now imagine those people get wise to the narrative, and you can piece together most of the plot from there.

I enjoyed the irony that the twist of this novel could ALSO be a throw-away episode of Star Trek. And that Wil Wheaton narrates the audiobook—Ensign Crusher in the flesh.

But this novel is funny, heartening, and lovable in the same way as my previous encounter with Scalzi. Plus it won the Hugo award for best novel back in 2013.

The codas were wonderful thought experiments. Imagine reckoning with all the characters you wrote into sloppy deaths. Or owing your life to a fictional version of yourself. Or living a more meaningful life as a fictional character who wouldn't exist except for you.

The idea of inadvertently spawning a fictional version of myself left me thinking of the lines from Whitman:

What I assume, you shall assume, for every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

-- Walt Whitman, "Song of Myself"

I enjoyed this novel. The dialog sparkles, the characters are sympathetic, and the plot is fun and serviceable.

And it gave me a writing gem to take home: you're the general for the army of characters you create.

Sooner or later the Narrative will come for each of us. It'll use us however it wants to use us. And then we'll die from it.

-- John Scalzi, "Redshirts"

Everyone dies. Your characters, if they're mortal, will die. And they may even die in your narrative. But you should never send them into a stupid situation to let them die from a blunder or for a cheap thrill.

If your characters must die, you owe them a good death, at least.