The more recently read books have rough dates associated with them. The older ones… I forget exactly when I read those.
The Song of Troy, by Colleen McCullough
The Trojan war is one of those fairy tales that seems to lingers on in modern western society. Elements of it are so mythological that they seem completely unreal. Odysseus's ten year journey home. Achilles right ankle. The Trojan horse. Almost everyone knows these stories. Yet the Trojan war almost certainly happened. Certainly Troy was sacked and destroyed around the traditional date of the war (1184 BC) but there is no way to know if this is the Trojan war mentioned in the ancient sources. This is because Troy was destroyed by one method or another at least 7 times in it's history. What Colleen McCulloughh has done in The Song of Troy is blend these semi-mythical, semi-historical “fairy facts” into a convincing novel that reads a lot like Antony Beevor's history Stalingrad. The scope is epic, and McCullough creates the strange emotion one has when watching the world change shape - a strange mix of breathless, fearful anticipation, optimism, and nostalgia - as elegantly as if it were as easy as tying your shoes. The colourful, mythical characters - Agamemnon, Odysseus, Priam, Hektor and many others - are brought brightly to life and with a depth that is often lacking in biographies of people much more real and recent. We are drawn into a world where pride, ambition, lust for glory and riches and treason play a role - and the parallels between today and then make for interesting insights into human nature. And this is perhaps the truest indication I can give of how good this novel is. I cannot stop myself from writing about it, not as a novel, but as a historical account of the creation of Western civilisation. McCullough has transformed myth into vivid history.
Snow Crash, by Neal Stephenson
This book is the purest cyberpunk… ESR rates it as the hacker novel, and frankly, he's right. Smart wheels, metaverses and franchised nation-states (“Mr Lees Greater Hong Kong”?) combine with ancient Sumerian mythology and a billion and one hacker in jokes to make for a fascinating romp through linguistics, politics, religion and society. And it's got Afro-Asian Samurai geeks with swords. For that alone, it gets the Really Cool Cyberpunk Stamp of ApprovalTM.
2001: A Space Odyssey, by Arthur C. Clarke
Great Science Fiction, oddly enough, often isn't about science at all. It goes beyond the mundane world of gears and gadgets, and usually comes full circle right the way back to people. The stuff that doesn't… we usually call it Space Opera, and it's enjoyable to read, but it doesn't really say much. Yet what Arthur C. Clarke has done with the 2001 series has really gone more than full circle - he's transcended technology, yes, but he's also transcended people. And so, this isn't really much of a novel. It's not something you sit down and read in the way you'd read someone like Neal Stephenson. But it's still damned good - better even. And if I had to pigeon hole it… well, I'd probably actually call it Science Philosophy, not Science Fiction. For me, this whole series of books is more about growing up than it is anything else. It's about the dawn of intelligence - and the dawning of intelligence that is happening now. It is a common theme in Clarke's books - Childhood's End is another book by Clarke with a vastly different take on this same process of awareness - yet today, with so much technology coming to fruition, it's as relevant as when he first started writing these books, back before the Apollo landings… (which makes Clarke's series an even more incredible achievement!) The recommendation then? Read it. Read it to enjoy if you wish, but more importantly, read it to learn.
Enders Game, by Orson Scott Card
Orson Scott Card has this rather addictive habit (for his readers!) of writing science fiction, that, on the surface of it, is all about weird alien races and cool things blowing up, but which, just under the skin, is hauntingly deep. Ender's Game fits this description perfectly, because underneath the story of “boys in space” is an almost mythological tale, encompassing so many philosophical and moral and intellectual issues that it becomes very very difficult to disentangle them, and even to find them. Everyone I know who has read the book has thought it an incredible work - yet not one of them agrees on exactly what it's about, let alone what it really means. And to me, that is the mark of a really great book - that different people can read it many times, and each and every time, they will draw out something new and meaningful. By all means, read Card's other books - in fact, I can't understand why you wouldn't! - but I'd read this one first.
The Quiet Place, by Richard Maynard
Until about two-thirds of the way through this book, I was sitting there thinking to myself: “Oh yeah, this is alright, but it's pretty average British SF” - you know the whole stiff upper lip thing, slightly prudish writing on sex, occasional forced jolliness - very British. But then all the pieces started to fall into place, and the true message of the book became clear: That it was not about the struggle to rebuild a civilised society, but the triumph of savagery over civilisation - about the destruction of the final elements of it. It's a poignant tale of just how fragile our humanity really is, and if you can see through the less-than-perfect writing, as I eventually managed to do, you'll find a haunting, breathtaking myth beneath it.
Dune, by Frank Herbert
Dune is the Middle Earth of Science Fiction. It has that compulsion to it that only a perfectly created alternate world can give - you feel yourself getting sucked into this fictional world, but you don't mind, because it is textured so richly, and the people and events and the history of the world are so real. I'm by no means the first to “discover” Frank Herbert - not by something of a long shot! A bit of a late bloomer really - and I won't be the last either, but alongside The Foundation, Dune ranks as the greatest future history ever written, and it carries with it the same weight of message and meaning about our own culture and civilisation that Asimov's Foundation series does.
An Instance of the Fingerpost, by Iain Pears (020080316)
I was more than two-thirds of the way through this book before I realised I wasn't reading a political thriller, but a detective novel. I hate detective novels. But not this one. The story lines weave and bob and thread their way in amongst each other, the writing is evocative and the characters confusing and fascinating. 17th century Oxford is brought to life, in all of its grimy renaissance glory. Page by page and section by section the lies are peeled away and at the end the reader learns the truth. Or perhaps it is just one more set of lies. A fascinating, fantastic and engrossing read, no set of superlatives is sufficient.