The Punch Escrow: What makes a person?

The Punch Escrow by Tal M Klein

The Punch Escrow is a futuristic sci-fi novel by Tal M. Klein, published in 2017. According to a 2017 Variety article, the movie options were purchased very early on, with Muppets director James Bobin listed at the helm -- but I can’t find any more recent news or updates on it.

I read the book for my office book club, and although there were certainly things I liked and found interesting about the book, my opinion came to an overall negative, and I’d probably leave the book about 2.5/5 stars, despite the book’s generally warm reception upon release.

The novel is set in 2147 and is, more or less, about teleportation and what effectually constitutes personhood, although Klein never actually gets around to answering those questions in any meaningful—or satisfying—way.

Joel Byram, the narrating protagonist, has an inconsequential job harassing AI bots. Momentarily charming, but—and maybe it’s just because I work in tech in 2020—not particularly believable given the surrounding context. 

Joel’s wife, Sylvia, is far more interesting character, but we get relatively little of her. Sylvia is a high-level employee at International Transport, and IT runs the world, you see. 

Teleportation is possible in 2147; a person steps into a vestibule in location A, and is then teleported to the vestibule of location B. The safety features ensure that, in the event of a problem, the person doesn’t actually go anywhere. The idea is that the data doesn’t transfer until receipt is confirmed or whatever. There are a lot of immediate big questions about this, in text and out, but the effort to address them feels half-assed at best.

The novel that follows includes terrorism and the accidental duplication of Joel Byram. Because someone detonated a bomb in the transport center while he was teleporting, and Sylvia assumed he was dead and duplicated him because guilt/grief. And that was the project she’d been working on: Honeycomb, or a genetic copy of everyone who’d ever teleported, because drive toward immortality and power.

Complete with mad genius scientist. 

The first few chapters were a slog. The prose was clunky and it was a disorienting info dump. Before I’m criticized for not understanding sci-fi conventions: I’ve read a lot of sci-fi. I get it. There’s a lot to establish. Klein uses footnotes—which  are very much a device I adore in fiction, but they were so thick as to make it unwieldy and disorienting—for a lot of those explanations, but the problem was just how dense they were. My issue with it is that the footnotes contained a lot of really great fiction/creative context for things, it was all the stuff that illustrates how 2147 developed. Burying them all in the front third of the book is really a disservice to the creative footnote.

Anyway. After the first few chapters, the book felt like it opened up a bit and I started to enjoy myself. It was unfortunately short lived. Look, I’m down for a sarcastic narrator (see: the protagonist of literally every urban fantasy novel), but Byram isn’t just sarcastic, he’s an asshole. (And when he has to deal with himself—literally—for the final third of the novel, he even realizes how much he sucks. So. I’m not being that mean.) 

But the crux of this novel’s problem is that it completely loses the thread about two-thirds of the way through the book. It reads very much like someone just writing a screenplay narrative concept, where the novel is essentially a proof-of-concept for a film option. And Klein only got halfway—which is to say, the movie deal. None of the Big Questions™ that come up are addressed. Teleportation isn’t harmless. Each teleportation is a deletion and reprint of the physical person, every time. So teleportation is, arguably, murder/suicide. The whole climax of the novel is a slushfest of squishy movement and politicking, ill-explained subterfuge and poorly managed relationship dynamics.

The ending was the most anticlimactic scramble of a scene I’ve read in awhile. It was the veritable definition of slapdash, and it was kind of painful to read. Character actions don’t track, based on their arcs. Motivations don’t track. The scientist gone insane rant is… I mean, tacky at best? It just felt so hollow and baseless and unfulfilling I didn’t even care about the resolution. Incoherent in a bad way. The conclusion of the outer framing story didn’t track, either, presented at the beginning as a recording of this crazy thing the reader needs to make sense of and deal with, even though… there are precisely zero consequences for anyone. Ultimately, it was very clear that Klein didn’t go into this already knowing how it ended.

The biggest philosophical question is what defines personhood. What defines a “soul”? The novel posits that teleportation results in a couple grams of “packet loss”—this is the source of religious groups’ certainty that teleportation is murder, that that loss must be the soul—but that also never comes back up, and would have been way more interesting than the mad scientist angle. I know I haven’t explained that properly, but the plot line wasn’t earned, nor was it executed with any skill whatsoever, so don’t worry about it. Also, it means that if you decide to read it, I’ve left you some surprises.

It’s also a personal pet peeve of mine when futurist sci-fi writers are exclusively obsessed with the 1980s. Being obsessed with 1980s music in 2147 is like your neighbor Chad being wicked obsessed with 1760s madrigals specifically. But bigger than that, it’s the refusal to make up or imagine culture beyond the early 2000s, i.e. culture that hasn’t happened yet. I don’t want to hear about Moron Musk being some tech hero in 2147. Make it up. Also, the conceit that Amazon Glacier will still exist in 2147 😂😂😂

Anyway. 

I really wanted to like this book. The premise is cool, but it just isn’t well executed at any point. The footnotes are aggressive, then well paced, and abruptly nonexistent. Sure, there are arguments to be made in favor of that timing, but we don’t have all day, and I can’t say everything. 

I’m also just not down with the idea that after all of this chaos and violence and all of everything, there are no consequences. None. No consequences! Haha! Can you believe it!? A sci-fi novel that terminates without consequences. 

Wild. 

I won’t say I “hate read” it, but it was very obvious when the plot fell apart, and I had to force myself to finish it. It just ceased to be a good time. 

Final verdict: strong, interesting premise, failed execution. 

Vision in Silver: Anne Bishop (The Others, book 3)

Author’s note: Written in 2015

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Vision in Silver is, as the title mentions, the third book in Anne Bishop's series The Others.

When we began this journey, we joined Meg and her new arrival into the Lakeside Courtyard, where the terra indigene hire her as their new Human Liaison for their post office. Suddenly, everything begins to change, including the way that the Others view humans and the way that they all interact. But Meg's Controllers from the compound where she'd been held, designated by a number, were searching for her, and getting altogether too close for comfort.

Thanks to the Courtyard's unprecedented attachment to Meg, the threat is neutralized and the world begins to change. The Humans First and Last movement, often shortened to HFL, has come over from Cel-Romano and begun to take hold of Thaisia, and they are beginning to create havoc. Drugs called Gone Over Wolf and Feel Good are being manufactured from the blood of the Cassandra Sangue, girls like Meg who see prophesy when they cut their precious skin. These drugs are being used as weapons not only against the terra indigene—but also against each other.

Vision in Silver comes in with the wild expansion of the HFL across Thaisia, with nebulous threats of upcoming food shortages that make no sense under the conditions. There is a group of other Cassandra Sangue the terra indigene are trying to help, but most of them self-destruct, except for a few. One draws instead of making cuts because the Controllers aren't there to bind her fingers—and her drawings are eerily expressive—and she eventually calls herself Hope. Lieutenant Montgomery's daughter suddenly arrives on a train by herself with a stuffed bear in tow, but no mother—and now there are people coming in search of the secrets she brought along. HFL attacks the terra indigene at the marketplace where the Human pack took the Crows for a field trip—and the Elders (those terra indigene much older than any others, those who inhabit the wild country and are unseen and unknown to the humans in Thaisia) have declared a breach of trust: the Lakeside Courtyard has a brief amount of time to determine what of humanity may stay, but the rest will be eliminated.

Throughout Vision in Silver, the same kinds of philosophical questions posed in Murder of Crows appear: Are you more sympathetic toward the humans or the terra indigene? What does it mean to support one over the other? But more than that, and this is the key point seen in this novel particularly: Who do we trust when we sabotage our own people? Where do you turn when the people who are supposed to be on your side have chosen some other side that is both against the supposed danger-force (terra indigene, in this case) but also against any human who isn't against the Earth natives? To the forces that distrust you and your kind, consider you "clever meat", disposable, threatening? What if that's your only option?

What if, at the end of the day, the most dangerous force in your life is actually your neighbor, and not nature?

Simon Wolfgard is working very hard to preserve some of humanity because Meg's presence in the Courtyard has changed everything: it allowed interaction with the Lakeside human police force, it precipitated the creation of a human pack inside the Courtyard where before there had been none. By the end of the novel, the question on humanity has turned into something a little different. How much 'human' will the terra indigene be able to absorb while still maintaining their core selves? And, furthermore, if they allow themselves to absorb more of humanity, will they change the kind of terra indigene that they are now?

Vision in Silver moved very slowly until about 75% of the way through, and then all of a sudden everything happened all at once. Up until I reached that point, I was a little disappointed in it, even though I could tell it was leading up to something particularly virulent (and I was right); I just wanted more. I'm moved to say that I was less impressed by this book than by the previous two, but I enjoyed it anyway. I'm very excited to see where book 4 takes us, and I eagerly await the culmination of Simon's and Meg's tiptoeing around letting each other know they care more than just casually. That isn't a spoiler; it's been obviously coming since they met. It's somewhat subtle and there are much bigger things going on in the world than their relationship, but it is kind of a really infuriating will-they-won't-they dance that I've found I really don't have time for anymore. For both Meg and Simon, life is complicated and difficult and there isn't enough time.

I really want to know what the Elders are going to do now, and I really can't wait for this son of a bitch Nicholas Scratch to get his comeuppance. Seriously, though.

So that's what I've got. I gave it a solid 4 stars on Goodreads just because of the disappointment mentioned above, but I'd have given it 4.5 if it were an option. Because it probably wasn't worth a full star. C'est la vie.

Changeless: Gail Carriger (The Parasol Protectorate, Book 2)

Author’s note: Written in 2015

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Alexia Tarabotti is back! Now married to Conall Maccon, Alpha of the Woolsey pack, and promoted to Muh Jah on the Shadow Council for the Queen of England, life is busier than ever. All of the military regiments overseas have returned to England—and there's at least one setting up camp on her front lawn—and there's a rather peculiar force turning all members of the supernatural set human, at least in a particular area. When that space begins to move northward toward Scotland, following her husband, Alexia decides to follow him via dirigible. Forced into traveling with escorts, Alexia is joined by her French maid Angelique, her husband's claviger Tunstell (who is entirely in love with her friend Ivy Hisselpenny), her antagonistic half-sister Felicity—who is particularly angsty as the youngest sister is in the throes of planning her marriage, and—not to be outdone—her close friend Ivy Hisselpenny, who is newly engaged to one Captain Featherstonehaugh (but kind of irrevocably in love with Tunstell).

Before she leaves, however, she meets one particularly interesting French woman by the name of Madame Lefoux, who daylights as a hatmaker, but is a brilliant inventor behind closed doors, and was commissioned by Conall to make her one helluva parasol... that does everything but function as a parasol.

What's most interesting about Madame Lefoux is that she dresses in men's clothing, tailored to fit and accentuate her female body. She wears pants and waistcoats and cravats and the whole bit. It's glorious, if a bit scandalous. There are also some indications that she may be bisexual, as there is an interesting sexual/romantic tension between her and Alexia, and this all makes a very interesting commentary on sexuality and power in [modified] Victorian society. Whether that says anything about Alexia is kind of unspecified, although her "discomfort" might lend some clue.

On the dirigible, it becomes apparent that somebody is trying rather hard to rid England of Alexia, first by poisoning her food (which unfortunately affects Tunstell instead) and then by pushing her off the edge of the deck and apparently wrestling with Madame Lefoux. Alexia saves herself on the side of the beast, however, and makes it back to safety no worse for wear.

Once in Scotland, the group meets up with her husband and travels to Kingair Castle, where they are met with a surly, unattractive woman who is introduced as Conall's great-great-granddaughter. Alexia doesn't take too kindly to the sudden realization that her husband had been married once before and he never told her. Frankly, I can't blame her.

While in Kingair, at least as many issues arise as are solved. The source of the humanizing agent turns out to be a mummy brought back from Egypt. The individual ransacking Alexia's room and trying to kill her is her French maid, who had at some point in her past—surprise!—been romantically involved with Madame Lefoux.

But the real kicker to this book is the ending. And I'm telling you, I got so mad I fumed. I almost threw my book.

Alexia is pregnant. Surprise of the ages, since, theoretically, supernaturals are incapable of producing offspring. But despite the fact that Alexia couldn't possibly have slept with anyone else and certainly wouldn't lie about it, her bloody husband flips out and starts swearing at her in front of everybody until she and Madame Lefoux leave for London.

Now. Believe me. I understand that it looks bad. And Conall is emotional (at best). But this was simply uncalled for. He married a preternatural, which had never been done before, so I don't know why he couldn't believe that the union would be capable of producing something no one ever had before: a baby.

Soulless: Gail Carriger (The Parasol Protectorate, Book 1)

Author’s note: Written in 2014, this writing style is no longer indicative of my modus operandi, but I stand by the gist of my points herein.

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CONTAINS SPOILERS. BE ON YOUR GUARD.

Soulless is the first novel in a series of 5 by Gail Carriger, a writer who is both hilarious and brilliant, and unquestionably has my loyalty after just this one novel.

I read it in the span of about a day and a half, just purely because I was so into it. And I was putting off my homework. As per usual. So sue me. (Don't, please, I beg you.)

Although the common mythology is that vampires and werewolves lack souls because they're "undead" if you will, Carriger has flipped this concept around, instead claiming that they have an excess of soul, which is what allows them to be supernatural in the first place. Alexia Tarabotti, our heroine, is what they refer to as a preternatural, or an otherwise normal human being who has been born without a soul. What this means is that she counteracts all supernatural-ness; coming into contact with a supe causes an immediate reversion to humanity for the werewolf/vampire/ghost in question, which is particularly interesting and, at times, sort of dangerous. This soullessness is, in fact, hereditary, and she got the trait from her Italian father, a heritage she and her family are most embarrassed about because they are, after all, British in the nineteenth century. (From my studies, I've gathered that this disdain of foreigners was a pretty solid thing for these people; whether or not it still holds is up in the air.)

Because supernaturals are "public," if you will, there had to be some manipulation of history in order to account for it all. It's actually quite genius, the way that things are perfectly accounted for and addressed. I wasn't even expecting such interesting developments. Also, there is an overseeing organization called BUR--an acronym I've unfortunately forgotten at the moment, and my novel is across the room, and I'm naked and in bed, so I'm not getting it to tell you. Suck it--headed by one Lord Maccon, the 20-years new Alpha of the Woolsey pack.

Alexia is particularly bold and educated in the sciences, etc. Her father is dead and has been for quite awhile, and her mother remarried a proper Brit and had two more daughters--and I'll be the first to tell you that Alexia's entire immediate family is a group of bloody twits.

Anyway. The plot of this novel is that roves (independent vampires not connected to a Hive--as opposed to a coven) are going missing, and new, uneducated vampires are randomly showing up. Not only that, but Alexia's being targeted and followed and such. Drama and hilarity ensue, and untoward romance sparks between Alexia--considered a spinster at age 26--and Lord Maccon, which is also bloody hilarious, I should mention.

The remainder of the plot and such is certainly worth discussion, but I'm not going to thrill you with it because it simply won't do to elaborate on the entire plot, now, will it? What would be the point in ruining it? Regardless, it's definitely worth a read.