Following the events of Hyperion, war is brewing between the Web’s Hegemony and the Ousters. As political leaders and military officials prepare for battle, secrets and betrayals are revealed. Meanwhile, on Hyperion, the Shrike pilgrims fight for their lives as the Time Tombs continue to play tricks on their minds and bodies.
More Questions Than Answers
Though I personally enjoyed The Fall of Hyperion more than the first book in the series, it still had lots of ups and downs. I can’t help but think that if Dan Simmons hadn’t created such an interesting setting in the planet Hyperion and original, frightening monster in the Shrike, I wouldn’t be as impressed as I am.
The Hyperion Cantos is a big series with many characters and many ideas—too many, in fact. While the general theme found in this book explores the relationship between creator and creation, there’s a lot of jumping around before any message is to be found. The pacing is uneven, sometimes slow when you figure something out far sooner than the characters do, and there are more loose ends than there should be.
A sizable portion of The Fall of Hyperion is told from a new character’s first-person perspective. While the consciousness of the cybrid “reincarnation” of John Keats lives on in the implant Brawne Lamia carries with her on Hyperion, a second cybrid has been created back in the Web with a slightly altered version of this same persona. He goes by the name of Joseph Severn, a painter and the historical John Keats’ friend. Joseph finds his persona overlaps in surprising ways with what’s left of the first John Keats’ cybrid data as Joseph’s dreams take on the shape of the Shrike pilgrims’ waking reality. These dreams of the others are relayed in separate chapters in third person.
As in Hyperion, Simmons plays with narrative perspective and tense. It’s interesting, but it doesn’t make for the most comfortable read, particularly in the first half of the book. It takes time to warm to Joseph and the Web he inhabits. It’s a rather dry world that mostly consists of flimsy characters talking about military logistics and planets you never see enough of to care about. Then, for me, Joseph’s “dream connection” to Keats made me pass that strange and arbitrary point where I could no longer suspend disbelief. (Apparently my brain accepts portals and organic metal monsters, though.) It was far too convenient that the Shrike pilgrims were always awake and doing something of note when Joseph was asleep to “watch” them through the first John Keats. Right, sure. It’s hard enough for me to chat with friends in Australian time zones.
Still, I was glad for Joseph’s dreams because I continued to care the most about the Time Tombs and pilgrims he saw in them. There are some really great scenes where they face the Shrike, who only becomes creepier and more mysterious as the pages turn. The only negative thing I can say about this part of the plotting and world-building is that sometimes, in an effort to keep everything mysterious, Simmons never provides answers. Then, if you do find an answer to a question, it may be unfortunately anticlimactic. There’s a very good reason TV Tropes includes this series on its Kudzu Plot page.
This is most frustrating when it comes to Colonel Kassad and Sol and Rachel’s stories, all of which fall flat merely, it would seem, for convenience. There’s room for more information about these and other characters, but whether Simmons can give them the story arcs they deserve over the next two books is questionable—especially since the rest of the series isn’t focused on any of these characters.
Finally, philosophically speaking, The Fall of Hyperion ends up in some strange territories I don’t like. I enjoyed much of Simmons’ exploration of the relationship between creator and creation: who controls whom, chicken and egg. But I don’t see any reason why that theme had to go in the direction of gods and religion. By the end of this book, the series has moved further away from science fiction, to venture into some messianic fantasy, prophecies and all. There’s no need for it, and I’d argue there’s little lead-up to it.
As the next book in the series, Endymion, mostly features different characters, I’m thinking readers never get answers to a number of remaining questions. Though I enjoyed The Fall of Hyperion more than its predecessor, I’ll skim-read the rest of the series, if that, just to know more about the Shrike. Reviews for those books aren’t likely to follow.
Quotes from The Fall of Hyperion
Tyrena was a dinosaur who refused to become extinct–her wrists, palms, and neck would have glowed blue from repeated [anti-aging treatments] if it had not been for makeup, and she spent decades on short-hop interstellar cruises or incredibly expensive cryogenic naps at spas too exclusive to have names; the upshot was that Tyrena Wingreen-Feif had held the social scene in an iron grip for more than three centuries and showed no signs of relinquishing it. With every twenty-year nap, her fortune expanded and her legend grew.
He pulled and struggled and twisted even as the creature hugged him more closely, pulling him onto its own blades as if he were a butterfly being mounted, a specimen being pinned.
“A less-enlightened personage once asked Ummon, ‘What is the God-nature/Buddha/Central Truth?’ Ummon answered him, ‘A dried shit-stick.'”
In the distant future, Old Earth has died, humans have spread throughout the universe, and technology has blossomed to both our advantage and detriment. As large-scale war looms, several people are called on a pilgrimage to the planet Hyperion—so named after English Romantic poet John Keats’ unfinished work. It’s on Hyperion that the mysterious and deadly monster known as the Shrike can be found near the Time Tombs, a place that confounds archaeologists and physicists alike. As the travelers make their journey, each recounts his or her life story, revealing the many ways they are all connected to each other and their destination.
Science Fiction Meets The Canterbury Tales
The universe author Dan Simmons has created in Hyperion is expansive, with many characters, worlds, and technological devices. Entering such foreign, futuristic territory tends to go one of two ways in speculative fiction: Either the story begins slowly as you are introduced to the mechanics of the world, or the author opens a floodgate and hopes you’ll keep up. Simmons chose to unleash the flood, and there’s a lot of techie jargon at the beginning of Hyperion—some of it dated—that might put off readers who aren’t usually open to science fiction. (Tree ships? Fatline messages? All Thing? Farcasting?) Still, if you can roll with this brand of immersion, the book is mostly rewarding beyond its lexicon of buzzwords and occasional pitfalls.
Hyperion is separated into several parts. The book’s present-day story, where war looms on the horizon, is told in a limited third-person perspective, but most of the book is made up of several first-person accounts, á la The Canterbury Tales, from each of the main characters who are on the Shrike pilgrimage. Each character is on the pilgrimage for either personal or political reasons; all are guarding secrets and frightened for their lives.
There is the priest who is physically and horrifically tied to Hyperion, the famed colonel who’s had inexplicable visions, the brash poet whose muse is a monster from nightmares, the scholar who hopes his daughter’s heartbreaking illness can end on Hyperion (as it started), the detective who carries the memories of a reincarnated writer, and a government official who is weighed down by his knowledge of endless corruption and conspiracies.
These first-person accounts are a mixed bag. While I loved the stories the priest, poet, and scholar told, and the government official ended up having some things of interest, I was less intrigued by the tales the war general and detective had to tell. I did some skim-reading. Perhaps that’s a matter of taste, though, and Simmons does deserve credit for giving each character a clear voice, regardless. He’s also pretty good at bending genres whenever and wherever he pleases.
For me, where Simmons falters most is in thinking we need to know about all of the elements of his world. Presumably, this is the reason he chose to write the book in a way that allowed him to tour the universe. As much as I enjoyed some of the characters’ backstories, I would have preferred Simmons stayed out of the past and instead focus on what was only relevant to the third-person plotting that surrounded each backstory. Despite the largeness of the world and some of the individual character’s histories, this book has a very small story itself: some people journey to another planet. Enjoyable or not, the detours into each traveler’s past seriously detract from the book’s present. As such, Hyperion feels a little like a teaser for the real story that’s set to unfold in the rest of the series.
So what makes me generally like this book and want to continue reading, as I plan to?
Above all, it’s the Shrike, which is one of the best, creepiest monsters I’ve encountered in science fiction or horror. I’d rather not spoil the details that exist about the Shrike because how they are revealed through the character backstories in Hyperion is really great. Simmons kept my skin crawling every time the Shrike—and the mysterious cult who follows the monster—came into the picture. I suspect much of the acclaim for this book and the series is based on this creative bogeyman.
Hyperion has its problems, both technical and creative, but I’m looking forward to seeing what befalls my favorite characters and the Shrike that lies in wait. (I have so many questions. Is the Shrike just misunderstood? Is the whole
world universe going to end?!) Whether Simmons can hold me for the entire series depends largely on the next book, The Fall of Hyperion.
Quotes from Hyperion
In the beginning was the Word. Then came the fucking word processor. Then came the thought processor. Then came the death of literature. And so it goes.
The lieutenant took his time scanning their visa chips, letting them wait in the drizzle, occasionally making a comment with the idle arrogance common to such nobodies who have just come into a small bit of power.
And Sol awakened half laughing, half chilled by the dream. Amused by the thought that the entire Talmud and the Old Testament might be nothing more than a cosmic shaggy-dog story.