The Philippine Online Chronicles

There are very few books in recent memory that have had the buzz amongst the online speculative fiction community as Cory Doctorow’s Little Brother. It was released just over a year ago to resoundingly positive reviews from magazines like Publisher's Weekly and Booklist.

Neil Gaiman raved about it: "I'd recommend Little Brother over pretty much any book I've read this year, and I'd want to get it into the hands of as many smart 13 year olds, male and female, as I can. Because I think it'll change lives." Scott Westerfield calls it "[a] rousing tale of techno-geek rebellion, as necessary and dangerous as file sharing, free speech, and bottled water on a plane."

To further dispel any doubt, it recently won the John W. Campbell Memorial Award for Best Science Fiction Novel of 2009 (jointly with Ian MacLeod’s Song of Time), and the Prometheus Award for libertarian SF. It has also been shortlisted/nominated for the Locus Awards and the Hugo Awards ( the equivalent of the Oscars/Academy Awards for the science fiction genre).

When I finally decided to check it out, needless to say, expectations were high. Did it live up to the accolades? Well, it did and it didn't—before you start throwing virtual rotten eggs my way, let me state that Little Brother is well worth the money that I will eventually spend on this book. My ambiguous answer will be explained over the course of this review.

Land of the Free

No, that wasn’t a tense error or a typo-- I did say "eventually." I haven't shelled out any cash for the book as yet (not for lack of trying--please restock quickly Fully Booked!). Purchasing an actual paper-and-ink book is not prerequisite. Consistent with Doctorow's avowed philosophy, the complete novel is available as a free download at his homepage.

This is a move that should come as no surprise to anyone familiar with Doctorow's strong opinions regarding digital rights management (DRM), file sharing (such as bittorrent), and post scarcity economics. To do the contrary at this point would approach hypocrisy. Little Brother's creative availability (its creative commons license allows remixes) also deserves some attention. Doctorow's philosophies inform practically every aspect of his public life, and those ideas are front-and-center in Little Brother.

Home of the Brave (spoiler warning begins here)

If you want to read the novel before this review, I encourage you to pick up the free 155 page PDF ebook and see if it's to your liking--and if it is, go finish it first before coming back here; don't worry, I'll wait.

Okay.

You can find a more complete definition of what the book is about here, but the story pivots on the circumstances of a 17 year old tech-savvy gamer named Marcus who finds himself accused of terrorist activities and along with his friends is treated as a potential enemy of the United states.

The novel deals with his struggles to fight back against the increasingly Orwellian machinery--personified by the Department of Homeland Security (DHS). The title is a play on "Big Brother" from George Orwell's classic 1984.

For most of the novel, Marcus fights back the best way he knows how--by re-purposing technology and using it as a means to enable like-minded youths to undermine the DHS.

"It's Easy To Tell Who's Us and Who's Them"

Let's start off with the negative first. Of the one-and-two star reviews (very much in the minority) on Amazon.com, one point that was consistently raised had to do with a failure of characterization, particularly with regard to the antagonists.

I find myself in agreement: while certain characters attempt to present a worldview contrary to that of Marcus, these characters are generally so odious, petty or sadistic that they become one-dimensional. The president and influential adviser in the novel are stand-ins for George W. Bush and Karl Rove, and the DHS (Marcus's personal nemesis in particular) are portrayed as predictably oppressive jack-boots.

The aim of the book is to highlight the dangers of a world where any measure, including torture, can be justified on national security grounds; that much is clear. The messge is stark and chilling but I don't think the message would lose any power if there had been well-intentioned (and sympathetic) characters who took the opposing view.

Another criticism raised was that portions of the story are nothing but information dumps (it's like reading a Boingboing, one reviewer suggested). On this, I beg to differ. From the start, Doctorow has laid his cards on the table: the novel has a three-pronged purpose. It is a piece of fiction, a how-to manual, and a call to action, all at once.

There are portions in the book where the narrative stops in order for Marcus to explain a particular piece of technology. That is because more-often than not that technology exists right now, and is available for people who would like to make sure that their technology works for them and not against them Technology exists right now and is available for people to try out. It adds a deeper level of dialogue between the writer and the reader. In fact, you can find more detailed "instructions" online at a website aptly named instructables--posted by a user whose handle will be familiar to those who read the novel.

At her review for Strange Horizons, Farah Mendlesohn put it well:

In most of the books I've read there is an absence of any political complexity, and in particular, an inattention to the way the world works. Perhaps worse, there has been an utter failure to address what I have always thought of as one of the key factors that make an SF book an SF book, that at the end of it, the reader has learned something. [...] Little Brother, however, is fiercely, unashamedly didactic.

To read Little Brother as a novel and a novel alone is to miss the point.

A rag-tag group of tech-savvy teens

This is not to say you can't enjoy it as a novel; while the antagonists are stock characters, Doctorow's teen protagonists are complex and authentic. Marcus may spoke in a way that was "much too smart" for a seventeen-year-old, but I think Doctorow was able to capture the voice of a smart, tech-savvy teenager.

Yes, there were portions where the narrative segued into lengthy, flowery descriptions of burritos and coffee--that's just how many of us get when we're talking about something we love. Marcus loves San Francisco, and knows it inside out. He can be forgiven for waxing poetic about it.

In Little Brother, Doctorow captures the importance of community to a young person—and how technology makes unlikely connections possible. Marcus can do what he does because he has a community that affirms and corrects him. They take his dangerous ideas and make them real.

Young people increasingly turn to communities online for the solutions to their problems, as well as the encouragement they don't get in real life. I can easily see that kind of youth organization happening here, at least in the city. That and the fact that reading the book makes me wish fervently that I could see it happening all over my country (not just the Metros) is the beauty of Little Brother.

Pinoy Big Little Brother

Little Brother does not contain beautiful prose, nor surprising plot twists; the ending seemed a tad contrived and the antagonists (and their world-view) suffered from one-dimensional portrayal (Bad Guys are Bad).

And yet.

"This book is meant to be something you do, not just something you read." (from the introduction)

It is a book which makes me restless, which makes my jaw clench, my fingers itch, my feet pace. The particular problems faced by the book’s protagonists--issues of civil liberty, freedom of speech and the right to privacy--are not yet pressing issues here in the Philippines (though they are no less important).

This is where book succeeds, where it reaches into my chest and hooks my heart, where it becomes so stomach-churning-ly relevant to a Filipino. Our protectors, our leaders, our public servants can become our enemy. The machinery necessary to maintain order in a nation of millions can be alienating, even actively destructive, to the life, happiness and humanity of the few.

I tore through the book at record speed, and in retrospect I know why--I was looking for the happy ending I needed to know it all (mostly) works out. When I found it, I shed a tear... because I know that for so many people here, the ending is not just speculative fiction but unattainable fantasy.

I know that there are a lot of civic-minded, kind-hearted, true public servants out there. I've even met a few. Yet we've seen good, decent people crushed by the jaws of the soulless bureaucracy and political arrogance.

What does it take--what will it take--to make a government accountable, not just to the rallies of the many, but the dignity of the one? Whatever method we choose to get to that end, I know that the journey will take a lot of discussion: and the glory, the triumph of Little Brother is that it gets that discussion started.

Poster taken from Boing Boing. Book cover was taken from Crap Hound.