Argity-arg. I just read a 2-volume gem o’ his called Deathkiller.
The first, called Mindkiller, steals the pleasure-wire concept straight out of Larry Niven’s universe. Okay, that’s not too bad.
And then I read Time Pressure. It’s more or less Stranger in a Strange Land with a female Michael. And the no-good-nik author has the gall to reference SiaSL! Am I missing something?
Robinson is an easy read, with well-developed characters and a good sense of humor and wordplay, but he is SO much Heinlein’s ventriloquist dummy, it’s distracting. Instead of his books being keepers, they’re put in the bargain bin.
He’s entertaining, and he tends to have likable characters. What else do you want? Did somebody tell you Spider Robinson would give you prophetic dreams, add inches to your penis, read the same forwards or backwards, have a fresh mountain pine scent, help you wash that Asimov out of your hair for good, have negative inertial mass, can only be read by quarter moonlight on wednesdays in footy pajamas with bunny ears? Or what?
“Untalented hack” is a tad harsh. I doubt anyone outside his immediate family considers him one of the giants of SF, but if you’re looking for a good beach read that doesn’t require you to think much his books are a pretty good choice. I don’t think I’ve ever read something of his that I thought was really great, but I’ve also never read anything he did that in my opinion really sucked, either. I can think of a lot of SF authors who get more acclaim but whose work I find much more annoying than Robinson’s. Piers Anthony springs to mind.
Plus you’re reading things that aren’t his flagship franchises. His “original” run of Callahan books (excluding Callahan’s key, IMHO) are pretty good, but everything outside of that continuity is really not very good. (A Free Lunch is good, but not great.)
I felt the Callhan books were just barely acceptable as original literature, if they were read from the standpoint of erotica. As SF I think they are worthless.
Robinson is “Heinlein Light”. VERY light.
Bah humbug. My parents read me “The Cold Equations” to lull mu to sleep. If I can’t read about the story’s premise in Scientific American, it ain’t sci-fi.
I just read Callahan’s Key. I was unamused, especially be the quote on the front… (rummages…)
I’d nominate Spider Robinson as the new Robert Heinlein.
- The New York Times
Look, buddy: mooning people, shit jokes, and obsessive pot-praising are really boring*. Especially the eighty-first time around. So is mindless authority-hating-because-it’s-cool, man. I remember enjoying his earlier stuff when I was fourteen. Ten years later, it blows.
Can anyone suspend their disbelief enough to believe that his characters could save the universe? Bleh.
I would just like to point out that this, here, is my 400th post. Yay.
I liked Spider Robinson a quarter of a century ago… when I was a teenager. Now I think I would find him too annoying. Doesn’t mean he’s a no-talent hack; his style just doesn’t suit me.
Now Dean Koontz, there’s a hack…
My opinioon is somewhat different: I think he’s a talented hack. I find him articulate and easy to read, but I find nothing of value in the reading.
[Hijack?/]
Just like Allen Dean Foster…
Or Harry Turtledove…
Keep in mind that Callahan’s Key is probably the worst thing Robinson’s ever written. It was dreadful on EVERY level. But he can be good, and, when he’s not afraid of bruising his character’s feelings, he can be sublime. Read the original short story of “Stardancer”. Or “The Guy with the Eyes” which represented a paradigm shift (I can’t believe I just said that) in Analog, or the hysterical “Half an Oaf” or the thoughtful “Melancholy Elephants”.
The man has boatloads of talent, he just A) is scared to let his characters get hurt and B) found a saleable, resuable storyline too early in his career.
Fenris
That’s pretty twisted, man. That story had me up all night, my first time. 'Course, I read it to myself, in high school, so maybe the 'rents COULD have made it a soporific if they’d been inclined to read me bedtime stories.
Personally, that was my take on him too, when I read Callahan’s Cross-Time Saloon. Great concept and articulate writing that got bogged down with a fixation on shallow tripe.
My aren’t we all cynical today?
Yep, you missed something. Perhaps it was the sense of wonder and delight when the unfolding of the universe is especially apt.
I will admit up front that the boy sometimes gets a wee bit rococo, but I will forgive him every bit of that for “God is an Iron” alone. And as for “Stardance,” case closed. Fascinating premise, gritty dialog, satisfying resolution.
Lest we forget, Heinlien himself was a Spider Robinson fan, even to the point of working nods to the Spider in his later works.
Remember the Hugos? He’s got several on his mantle, not to mention a share in the John W. Campbell memorial award.
Then there are the millions of poor deluded fans who actually like stories he writes. Maybe it’s because he creates characters I’d be damn glad to know, and we share some of the same other literary heros like Sturgeon and John D. MacDonald.
What I wouldn’t give for an evening at Callahan’s, or any of the later incarnations.
Hack? HACK! Arrgh!
I want an evening at Lady Sally’s myself.
Oh, and I have worn out several copies of Callahan’s and Stardancer-which remains to this day one of my all time favorite books, rating right up there with Zelazany’s Amber, which from me, is very high praise.
I was unimpressed with him as well. Except for the bondage and vibe scene in the piece of predictable crap I was readin… that sticks with me after 15 years:D
I call Robinson a hack because, in CCTS, there’s a story called The Law of Conservation of Pain.
For those who haven’t had the pleasure of reading it (or who’ve blocked it out of their memory) there’s a part of the story where describes the appearance of a hologram, singing a siren-like sad, sad tale. Robinson, apparently worried that the reader won’t understand a) that the bar patrons sat in silent awe while listening, and b) that the song was quite sad, repeatedly hammers these facts home.
Describing the audience, he writes that “the silence…was something you could have driven rivets through”, and that they held their breath. Then they “were shocked speechless”, which was odd since no one had been speaking in the first place. Then they “wanted to cry, wanted to shout, wanted to run forward…and no one made a sound”. So they “waited in fearful silence”. Then the song ends, and everyone (wait for the kicker) sits silently.
Robinson does no better with his parellel description of the song. He describes the guitar as a “despairing Ritchie Havens” (admittedly not a bad image), followed by a “haunting chord”, then a “mournful chord”. The singer plays a “plaintive A-minor”, then a “ghostly…E minor sixth”, and “an achingly repeated C-E-A-minor progression”. She plays “tapestry of hurting notes”, which lead to a “mournful melody”, after which the song and it’s “unnerving guitar” cease. He also describes it as dysharmonic twice, having apparently exausted his thesaurus.
This all happens within 7 pages of text, half of which is actually just the lyrics to the song. Aside from feeling insulted by the author (Gee, Mr. Robinson, what, duh, was that point you were trying to, duh, make?), it’s just really, really bad writing.
Not that I’m bitter about spending money to read this story. No, sir. Not at all.