DARK SPACE by MARIANNE DE PIERRES
Orbit paperback, 432pp, £6.99

Reviewed by Paul Raven

WARNING: This review can be considered to contain spoilers

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The strapline reads ‚ÄúDark space is not really dark. Neither is it empty.‚Äù Twisting this to refer to the book itself, it’s half right: Dark Space is certainly not empty. It is, however, very dark. Unflinchingly so; it’s a complex and exciting novel, almost devoid of cheap sentiment and comfortable vindication. It’s not a cheerful read, but it is a very rewarding one.

One of the established modes of science fiction is the story that asks “what if this carries on?” With Dark Space, de Pierres is performing a variation of that mode, which we might choose to describe as “what if this happened again?” Having created a world that draws heavily on the politics (and to some extent the language and other trappings) of the Italian city-states of the Renaissance, de Pierres is able to examine societies and interpersonal relationships from feminist and Marxist angles without seemingly having any particular axe to grind other than that of general progressiveness – though a more coherent agenda promises to reveal itself over the course of the series.

The Orion League of Sentient Species has been thrown into a tizzy since the discovery of God by one Jo-Jo Rasterovich, disreputable former minerals scout. Not the Judeo-Christian God, of course – though the capricious and manipulative nature of this dark space being, also known as the Sole Entity, does bear a slight resemblance to the Yahweh of the Old Testament. The entity (or Sole, as it is most often referred to) is one of a race of incorporeal beings who have gathered innumerable secrets of the universe in their travels across space-time.

Sole makes it known that its secrets are available for trade – “one clearly delineated feat of cleverness on the part of the Sentients in exchange for new knowledge or a key to knowledge” [page 3]. The academics of the region swarm like flies to compete for these intellectual table-scraps, sending delegates to be “shafted” – mentally rewired so as to be able to communicate with Sole on the level it prefers – and to shaft their rivals, by beating them to a potentially lucrative or prestigious prize. In the midst of their ruthless gaming, they fail to see that they themselves are being gamed – perhaps the lustre of the prize has blinded them.

That’s the big picture; now we zoom in to the hot and dusty feudal mining planet of Araldis. Baronessa Mira Fedor, like most of the population, knows nothing of the Sole Entity. What she does know is that she’s in a lot of trouble. She has a genetic birthright that makes her the only person who can communicate directly with the ‘biozoon’ semi-artificial intelligence of the Cipriani royal family’s space craft. So it comes as a surprise of the worst kind when, at a graduation ceremony, the Principe (king-equivalent) of the planet announces that his son and heir, Trinder Pelligrini, will become First Pilot instead. The genetic code will need to be transferred, though, and that holds little promise of being a healthy process from Mira’s point of view ‚Äì and so she flees before she can be rounded up.

Trinder himself is a less than likeable young man. In fact, he’s a spoiled aristo brat with a drug problem and poor impulse control, interested in little more than his eventual ascent to his father’s position of ultimate planetary power. However, his father is a more canny player, and recognises the need for his son to develop a work ethic ‚Äì and a spine. After a spectacular display of crass and drunken stupidity on Trinder’s part, he is despatched to a frontier mining town to act as aide to a local chief of security ‚Äì a job prospect that Trinder finds less than inspiring, which is a feeling shared by his new co-workers. The best of aristocrats aren’t popular outside their aristocracies, and Trinder is far from the best of anything.

And so, the stage is set. The bulk of the action in Dark Space plays out on Araldis, which becomes the scene of a carefully planned and executed invasion by brain-sucking aliens, with an interlacing of events near to (or concerned with) the Sole Entity seen through the eyes of Rasterovich or Tekton the archi-Tect, one of the shafted candidates for Sole’s favour. Much of the latter consists of the chicanery of the academics, who are very much in competition to win the patronage of Sole, and will stop at nothing to get an edge on each other: sex, blackmail, double-dealing, and surveillance are all par for the course.

Down on Araldis, things are a little less rarefied and a lot less pleasant. The aristocracy live a technology-rich high life, but most of the Orion League consider feudal backwaters like Araldis to be barbarian bumpkins. In addition to the inevitable rift between the landed aristo class and the average working peasantry, there is also a huge gender inequality thanks to the patriarchal social structure, as well as a vigorous culture of xenophobia against ‘gingko’ alien races. Araldis is a tough planet to live on; only a few generations old since the Cipriani families colonised on a tight budget, it’s only real appeal is its mineral wealth, very little of which makes its way down the folk who toil to unearth it from the arid land. Resentment is as commonplace among the working classes as arrogance is among the aristos.

The use of bastardised Italian for the names and language used on Araldis must be assumed to be a deliberate evocation of Renaissance-era Italian politics. Cue the word ‘Machiavellian’ to be misused as it has been for centuries ‚Äì for what we mean when we say ‚ÄúMachiavellian‚Äù is usually somewhat different to what that writer actually laid out as his political philosophy. But that word as used fits the bill here: ruthless oppression and manipulation; the will to power by any means necessary; the virtue of pragmatism.

With the exception of Rasterovich, all the main characters in Dark Space have come from a position of relative privilege. This could be taken as a simple writerly gambit to ensure that they’re unused to the sharp end of the stick, and hence unaccustomed to making tough decisions. But when considered as part of the thematic whole it seems to be more to do with the disruption of hegemony, and the responses of people who were embedded in that structure. Dark Space is concerned with how different personalities react when the shit hits the fan and their established routine is annihilated ‚Äì this is the character-driven writing that genre fiction is (often quite rightly) accused of lacking.

The arrival of Sole throws the whole Orion League into a certain disarray; Araldis descends into panic and anarchy as the invasion progresses; Trinder is cast down from his perch of privilege, first by his father and then further by developing events; Mira, although at the bottom of the aristocratic ladder, finds that there is far more despair and unpleasantness in the levels of status below her own; Tekton lands in a situation where his name alone is not enough to secure advantage, and has to climb a learning curve of deceit and subterfuge in order to reach his goals.

It’s a nasty galaxy full of nasty people, and the feminist guns are brought to bear right from the start ‚Äì almost without exception, the male characters in Dark Space are misogynist weasels and scumbags of the highest order. However, no one escapes the tar brush; most of the female characters are all too human as well. Those women who acquiesce to their oppressed status are non-characters, portrayed as soft weak puppets of their brutal menfolk: for example, Trinder’s alcoholic mother, in thrall to the Principe while fully aware of his infidelity, lovingly devoted to her son despite his continual denigration and psychological abuse of her.

Even the stronger women are subject to human flaws of judgement and reasoning ‚Äì or, in the case of Rast the mercenary, so independent as to be utterly selfish, a blurred mirror-image of masculinity. Mira is an exception, of course, but even she must overcome a lot of her preconceived notions and aristo upbringing before she can act effectively and decisively. She has help, however, in the form of an underground network of Araldian women working to undermine the patriarchy by non-violent defiance. This network only reveals itself a few times in Dark Space, most notably in the forms of Mira’s sister Faja and the servant who helps Mira escape from the Principe, but it promises to be an important part of the ongoing series.

The various relationships between man and woman are also well explored, but in a most unflattering light – for example, the Cipriani of Araldis have been genetically tweaked so that the men can choose when they are fertile. If a man needs or wants an heir, all he need do is rape a woman once; the ultimate cap on an already rigid patriarchal system.

This attitude toward women as chattel, baby machines or lesser life-forms is mirrored in the lower social strata as well, with the majority of women meekly accepting the status quo even when they can see the flaws in it. Sisterhood is a little prettier, as seen between Mira and Faja, but this relationship too is marred with the same misunderstandings that the real world is full of. de Pierres’ willingness to display the imperfections of her characters is a large part of the appeal of Dark Space; she deftly handles the aspects of bringing characters to life that elude so many space opera writers, simply by making them genuinely human ‚Äì with all the contradictory drives and motives that implies.

The only relationship that remains untainted is that of motherhood, be it natural or adoptive. It is only from mother to child (and occasionally between mothers) that we see simple acts of kindness performed without motive of personal advantage, and this bond is also common to all classes, from the unappreciated devotion of Trinder’s mother right down to the self-sacrifice of miner’s wives for the sake of their offspring.

At the braided core of the narrative, Mira and Trinder are very different characters, and as such provide a contrast of light and dark as the story progresses. However, they both go through a similar development of character, though it expresses itself in different ways.

Trinder has to learn to work for his own benefit, as opposed to responding impetuously to circumstance. His earlier habits of simply expecting the obedience due his rank are steadily replaced by a growing knowledge of the value of cultivating relationships. In the process, he also finds the first seeds of respect for others, in parallel with a slight strengthening of his moral fibre.

Trinder has a pathological fear of women, and it is only when something is forbidden or repellent (or both) to him that he is truly attracted to it – he acquires a dependent in the form of Djeserit, a young alien half-caste to whom he becomes obsessively devoted. Forced into an unwanted position of responsibility by the death of his father the Principe, he learns to deal with problems in the abstract; he understands that sacrifices must be made for to maintain the damaged social system he now represents and spearheads, but wherever possible he will sacrifice someone other than himself.

By contrast, Mira’s na?Øve meekness takes a considerable degree of punishment during her flight from the authorities and the subsequent perils of the invasion of Araldis. She too acquires dependants ‚Äì in this case a baby named Vito (a masculine version of the Italian word for ‘life’) and a young alien called a korm, who become her immediate concern and take priority over her own well-being.

She becomes an agent for the feminist agenda on Araldis without any conscious choice; as the invasion progresses, she sees that the women will need to be able to look after themselves, and she puts her neck out to enable this to happen. Like Trinder, Mira also shoulders responsibilities beyond herself, but unlike Trinder she makes sacrifices personally wherever possible, and is always remorseful when the innocent suffer, even if for the good of the many. The sanctity of motherhood applies at this scale too, as Mira unwittingly takes on the role of mother to Araldis itself.

So, two sides of one coin, that coin being pragmatism. Dark Space is a novel about facing up to harsh reality and making tough decisions, and two different approaches become gendered avatars as the characters of Mira and Trinder. It seems plain that this will be the central theme of the series - a revolutionary feminising influence being brought to bear on a male-dominated sphere ‚Äì but it is a relief to see that de Pierres doesn’t intend to completely sublimate the entertainment levels of the story to this agenda.

While a deeply political book, Dark Space is also a very engaging one ‚Äì the fine characterisation and subtle writing make for a novel which is both exciting and thought-provoking at once. It stands alone well enough, although the ending is quite understandably poised to hook the reader for the next instalment. And that next instalment promises to have plenty of new stuff for the reader to get their teeth into ‚Äì the affairs of the Orion League are barely explored as yet, and the troubles on Araldis are set to spill out into this greater theatre (from whence they originally stemmed). Add to that the machinations of the Sole Entity and those who compete for its favour, and there are plenty of reasons to look forward to the sequel. It’s always a joy to find intelligent and exciting space opera; to find it being written by a woman unafraid to bring her own perspective to a traditionally masculine genre, doubly so.

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