Stations Of The Tide by Michael Swanwick (book review).
To the watery world of Miranda comes the Bureaucrat, the unnamed protagonist of a very strange but in some ways rather splendid novel, ‘Stations Of The Tide’, about change and belonging. Change manifests in both big and small ways: the planet undergoes a complete transformation, transitioning from a predominantly Earth-like landscape to a vast ocean. Simultaneously, it appears that people are also undergoing changes, transforming into forms more suitable for living underwater. Authorities are concerned that Gregorian, who is offering people a way to change themselves, is using forbidden technology. Whether it’s an illusion or a scam, the bureaucrat sets out to apprehend Gregorian.
Despite being marketed as’surreal hard SF’ in the back cover blurb, the novel falls short of being genuinely hard science fiction. On the one hand, the basic setup of a planet with some sort of strange orbit that causes planet-wide flooding every couple of hundred years is feasible enough. Indeed, it’s quite an intriguing premise, encapsulating, in a way, the essence of climate change here on Earth. Author Michael Swanwick indicates some ways that life on Miranda has adapted to these natural rhythms while, at the same time, taking pains to evoke a muddy, waterlogged environment sliding into a crisis. Abandoned buildings and drowning vegetation can be found all around Miranda. Native animals adapt, but those that can’t, like pets and livestock, have to be taken off-world or killed. There’s a definite sense that while the planet will survive, the physical trappings of the world the human colonists created certainly won’t.
However, the real plot, which involves some sort of shape-changing magician, is set against what is fundamentally possible, albeit strange to us. Initially, the bureaucrat is tasked with finding the antagonist, Gregorian. As the novel progresses, the mystical themes become more diverse. There is a significant amount of sex intertwined with the magical elements, which is somewhat unexpected, but it serves a purpose. Ultimately, the unnamed bureaucrat discovers motivation beyond his job, which includes his desire for Undine. As he becomes more self-actualized, he gains a deeper understanding of his identity.
The motif of transformation runs through the novel, and the hard SF bits were, for me, the ones that felt most compelling. Shifting consciousness between a living body and a mechanical surrogate, for example, allows the bureaucrat and his colleagues to be in different places at once. At the same time, this sort of thing highlights the arbitrary nature of the self, at least from the perspective of Gregorian. Similarly, the police procedural part of the story felt gritty and real, given the backwater nature of the places where the bureaucrat has to go. The ticking clock of catastrophe also added some tension, especially in the first part of the novel where the story develops along fairly conventional lines.
Having said that, the novel deviated into the realms of drugs, mysticism, and tantric sex, which, in my opinion, diminished its overall appeal. Towards the end, when the bureaucrat finally meets Gregorian, the novel ties up some threads, but they don’t hold much significance. The novel’s first and last sentences, through a clever trick, alter the bureaucrat’s mission. This time he goes looking for Undine, not Gregorian.
Overall, this intriguing novel, originally published in 1991, merits a reprint, despite its occasional oddities.
Neale Monks
October 2024
(pub: Tor Essentials, 2024. 256 page enlarged paperback. Price: $17.99 (US). ISBN: 978-1-25086-249-5).
check out website: www.tor.com
