One of a few annotations from my MFA program, circa 2009-2010, that I'm including here on Goodreads because I recently stumbled upon them. Note: I may not agree with some of these opinions anymore...While reading Kay Kenyon has been enlightening, I did not enjoy Bright of the Sky. It may seem odd to start out an annotation with this pronouncement, but I intend to back this seemingly subjective statement—argue my thesis, if you will—with many examples from the text. Furthermore, I feel it is an important part of the annotation process and mentor-student relationship for me to form and express stylistic and aesthetic opinions. Kenyon has, in my opinion, made many choices in her novel that do not make sound literary sense. As opposed to my previous annotation, this one—as well as the Hamilton piece—will not focus on overarching stylistic themes, but on very specific issues that arose during the reading. While not a “close-reading” exercise, this method of attentive criticism has been invaluable in defining where and how the author mishandles her work. Please feel free, David, to rip into my analysis with abandon, as I know you greatly admired this work.The first stylistic choice that struck and dismayed me in Kenyon’s novel is her choice to switch point-of-view within a single subchapter. These switches usually occur in the latter two-thirds of any given section, and reveal little that could be inferred from Titus Quinn’s observations. One glaring example, on page 123, is when Chizu’s attraction to Anzi, and his intention to betray the household, is explored. This information has already been alluded to in the novel, as the master of the house is already suspicious of a spy within his compound. As to the attraction, it adds no drama to the situation because Chizu never reports to his contact and we never hear from him again. In fact, it detracts from the main narrative, leading us to believe the information is going to be pivotal when in reality it is inconsequential. While physical distance is certainly an excuse to break into another character’s POV, the overall trend of switching causes the reader to lose confidence in the narrator. Why Kenyon does not take the opportunity to reveal the world through Quinn’s eyes—hinting at tantalizing possibilities instead of revealing certainties—is beyond me. The use of multiple POVs can work, of course—as in Acacia, where the characters are separated physically and each provides information essential to the story—but Kenyon never uses it to full effect. Titus Quinn’s story never feels like his story. Speaking of Quinn more specifically, I feel Kenyon has painted him as largely static and lacking concrete motivation. Sure, the man’s wife and child have been taken from him, and while a decent fellow should want his family back, the reader cannot just assume that Quinn will. I get little sense of his relationship with Johanna, and no sense of his relationship with his daughter. Are we to assume he is the sort of person who likes the “vibrancy” of his wife (who seems more than a little flaky)? Are we to assume that of course he wants to save his daughter? He is so distraught over losing them, yet we never see what life was like with them! And the only clues we have are hardly Quinn-specific. Take, for example, an excerpt from page 123: “Of all the women he’d ever met, it was only Johanna who’d loved him for what he was.” This statement can only elucidate if we know what type of man Quinn is—other than reckless and dashing and good-looking…—and how Johanna loved him specifically, sans the Hallmark sentiment.As to Kenyon’s world-building, which is the skill she has been most praised for in reviews, I find it woefully inadequate. First, the foundation of the society on modern Earth is troubling, resting as it does upon the preconception that all intelligent people would contribute to society simply because of their intelligence. It posits a system of priority—intelligence creates the wealth—with no competition (or help) from the stupid. On page 54, the situation is explained in sufficient detail, but rests on the ugly assumption that human nature is static—that all dumb people want to do is sit in front of the tube; that all smart people want to do is create useful artifacts for society. For anyone who has worked with the public even a little, this assumption rings hollow. Not all smart people long to contribute, and not all people with low I.Q. scores want to vegetate. Frankly, Kenyon’s hypothesis rings of gross elitism.As to the The Entire universe itself, Kenyon also disappoints. The most glaring abuse of authorial license is the creation of the Chalin people, who chose eons ago to model themselves on the Chinese. Other than seeming awfully convenient for Kenyon to have an Earth society in The Entire, readymade, one must wonder why the people would choose an Earth society when their eyes are privy to an entire universe. On 214-215, Su Bei is making a map of the Rose, but focuses almost entirely on Earth. On these same pages, Su Bei explains that The Gond “walk through the veil to vacuum space, and to the hearts of stars, and to frozen asteroids. And some, to worlds of Rose sentients.” With all of these choices, how likely is it that an Earthman will step into a universe with so many familiar signposts? If this is the case, Kenyon has the duty to explain why the Chalin decided upon an Earth culture—that, or restrict The Entire’s contact to Earth alone, so that the pool of choices is reduced.The science of The Entire does not add up, either. On page 276, Quinn reveals that travel on the River Nigh is not faster than light, yet the distances of The Entire are truly interstellar. On page 286, he says messages are restricted by the speed of light, and yet messages take much longer to reach The Magisterium than people traveling on the Nigh. Clearly, something is amiss, and is explained away on page 276, where Quinn says merely that travel on The Nigh “defies logic.” Once again, how convenient for Kenyon that the rules of physics—which seem to restrict messages—can be bent in the case of travel.Lastly, I am going to address Kenyon’s language of description, which relies more often than not on abstractions. Take, for example, these three passages from pages 313 and 315: “The city was the spacious realm of the Tarig, and beneath it clustered the warrens of the bureaucracy: the Magisterium. The Magisterium was shaped like a bowl, one filled with labyrinthine levels and corridors. The center of the bowl was cut away, so that views from the Magisterium could provide glimpses of the great city.” “The ceiling threw a perpetual light on the Magisterium, a pale bronze fire.” “A habitat of bronze and silver, it glinted under the bright. Light and shadow sculpted the Tarig city as spires flushed in the day’s glare…”Clearly, this is hardly a vivid description. This is especially damaging to the story; we should have a clears picture by now, having been introduced to the city 30 pages ago! Descriptions such as “spacious,” “labyrinthine,” “pale bronze,” and “light and shadow” are carrying all the weight, but largely describing a nebulous space of unknown architecture.More damning, perhaps, is the manner in which Kenyon repeats herself, using certain words over and over to describe portions of the city without ever bringing them into focus. “Palatine” is one such word. It is used as the principal modifier no less than 15 times in the novel to describe the walls of the Magisterium. For an author who at times displays an encyclopedic lexicon, this is particularly offensive.
This is, without a doubt, the most painfully boring science-fiction novel I have ever sadistically forced myself to finish. Before I rant about why I did not like this story, let me first account for what I thought were its merits, few though they may be. While the premise of alternative universes is a fairly well-developed landscape for science-fiction settings, Kenyon does create a plausible job of world-building within this framework (this is, apparently, the area of writing in which she is most noted). The science geek in me enjoyed the few instances in which quantum physics jargon was used to explain concepts. And, I liked the couple brief references of future storyline regarding how the Tarig planned to harness new energy sources for The Entire and the implications that could have on the rest of the universe. However, these few positives are, unfortunately, lost within the miasma of literary mediocracy. First off, hello plot, where art thou? Search though I did, the plot could not be found. Titus discovers a new universe, The Entire, in a failed space voyage, losing his daughter and wife to said universe. He returns to Earth, only to get asked to go back to The Entire for more intelligence gathering. He, of course, has other motives... like finding his wife and daughter. While back in The Entire he learns their fates, along with what the rulers of The Entire, the Tarigs, are up to and returns to earth yet again. That's it. Thin, very thin. Hardly any action but a lot of whining. Obvious set up for a sequel, but usually SOMETHING is resolved within the covers of a novel... particularly if the book is over 400 pages long.Secondly, the characters lacked any personality. None. They all seemed uniform. Even the ones that were clearly "good" or "bad". No character development either, though I suppose, Titus, being the main character, was supposed to have gone through a type of aggression-calming change. Whatever.Lastly, the writing was contrived, at best. No style, no finesse. The descriptions were either very long-winded or really blunt. The words did not inspire sentiment for the characters, they didn't make the reader yearn for more.I was, to say the least, disappointed. Will not be continuing with this series.
Do You like book Bright Of The Sky (2007)?
1 1/2 StarsA man named (damn, had to go look it up because I forgot already) Titus landed on another planet with his wife and daughter. Somehow he got back to planet earth minus said wife and daughter. The peeps here on earth thought he was crazy because he said he'd been gone 10 years when it hadn't been that long. Titus has forgotten everything about this new world.Titus retreats into himself until 2 years later evidence is found that supports his story that he was in another world and they want him to try to find it again and do research. Titus is starting to remember thing slowly and he is shipped off again to this land with a Bright Sky like a flame in search of his family. The story continues as he is captured then retrained to their customs and his memory comes back. He's caused a lot of problem here and some want him dead. The search for answers is on.The ending was a to-be-continued that really took the joy (if I had had any) out of the read and left it wanting.The characters were either full of rage, hatred, or out for themselves. They were really unlikeable. The story was missing something? I honestly don't know what it was. The dialect in which the Sky people talk (Be this way going?) slows down the read. This read just didn't interest me. I tried.
—Ms. Nikki
Really appreciated Kenyon's alternate world and her cool tech. She fully mines her vision of the future and brings her readers along for the ride. Less satisfying are her depictions of alien civilizations and her cookie-cutter characters. Still, Heinlein and Asimov weren't known for building believable characters either, now were they?I especially enjoyed her sentient species that required human riders, reminiscent of Sheri Tepper's GRASS. And there's the rub. For Kenyon's worldbuilding can feel derivative at times. Her Chinese culture, which she qualifies in a facile way, disappointed--especially when she fell back on tired memes like the Master-and-Grasshopper alliance. She did this with East Indian culture in A THOUSAND PERFECT THINGS, also, yet I continue to expect better from her.So read this for the fully visualized sci-fi tech and worlds. Enjoy the romp.
—Janine
Disclosure: A couple of years ago, I read an ebook by a female author about transdimensional travel associated with a big, bad Company. I thought it was well written, but not quite my thing. When I saw this book, by a female author, about transdimensional travel associated with a big, bad Company, I thought it was the same writer, and figured "Hey, I'll give her another try." Turns out, not the same person. The names aren't even all that similar. But I didn't know that until, halfway through the book, I checked on my supposition that this was the author's first book. Why did I do that? Because, even with as little as I remembered of the first author, I was surprised by the sudden drop in writing quality. Had I realized the error earlier, I might have given up on the book.Bright of the Sky starts weak. The concept itself is okay, and the plot starts with something of a bang. Titus Quinn is an ex-pilot who once crossed over into an alternate world, where he left his wife, child, and much of his memory. The Company didn't believe him, mistreated him, but now wants him to go back. He does, and gradually recovers his memory.If plot is adequate, the writing is distinctly disappointing. The human world is nicely described, and comes across distinctly, as a very urban, stratified society. The alternate world is much less clear, both physically and culturally, though the alien Tarig are clearly in charge. The intrigues and substories are interesting on the cultural level, but on the character level they're sketchy. For example, once Titus has crossed over, he spends a lot of time with Anzi, who's just dying to know what Earth (the Rose) is like. But she never asks him any questions. I don't buy it - as if here's your chance to find out everything you ever wanted to know about fairyland, and instead, you talk about the local bus schedule and how to get to the mall.While the worldbuilding is generally good, there are a few careless details - e.g., an airship that's reluctant to take passengers, but appears to have no other reason for being. More troubling to me were the character issues. There are some key episodes of unexplained, irrational behaviour - the way key character Sydney treats sycophant Akay Wat, or the key-plot-driver crime committed by Titus toward the end. I didn't find the actions well enough supported. In addition, Titus' returning memory is far too often used as a magic ex machina wand to provide information or escape.All in all, it's an adequate story with successful worldbuilding, but characters that need work. It won't hurt you to read it, but it won't leave much impression. I won't be going on to the sequels.
—Metaphorosis
