Ender"s Game Book Review
Ender's Game is a novel by Orson Scott Card.
Lauded with both the Hugo and Nebula awards, it tells the story of genius child Andrew "Ender" Wiggin who is reared to be the military savior of humanity.
At the tender age of six, he is whisked off to battle school where warfighters tutor him in the lonely job of commanding Earth's fleet against the alien "buggers" who twice attacked earth.
I read Ender's Game over a weekend.
It was an interesting page-turner.
While it took its time to get to a point, somehow the journey did not seem tedious.
Card's well woven vignettes of life in a future space based Annapolis for baby geniuses explores the difficulties of growing up by showing ordinary boyhood conflicts backlit by the terror of human extinction.
The author's premise that a six-year-old could absorb in four years not just the operational aspects of command, but the human nuances of leading people under your command tripped my plausibility alarm.
Even a genius needs maturity.
This small flaw, though, is only a token criticism of an excellent book.
The author barely whispers of faith, but still soulfully contemplates innocents forced inexorably to actions of overwhelming moral implication.
Card's characters' moral spectrum run from white to ecru.
By not resorting to blinding white goodness and inky black evil, the story's tone is set to look at the great question of the book, "what price may we pay for survival?" These subtle shades better reflect those found in real life.
What passes for human villainy are defensible actions, only reprehensible were it not for the plausible fear of destruction by the ruthless "other".
For me this subtlety of moral conflict is the power of the narrative.
Originally published in 1983 (I believe) it reflects the Cold War fear of extinction prevalent then.
Our fear was annihilation of both person and freedom, and as we contemplated the former we became unsure if the latter were worth the risk.
We knew the alien culture of Communism was incompatible with our bourgeoisie culture of freedom of thought, worship, expression and commerce, but brinkmanship with the fate of the world in balance over ideals invited ambiguity when weighing risks against outcomes.
Today we don't face the theoretical destruction of millions, but the actual destruction of thousands.
Our enemy employs a moral calculus equally alien to us.
"Understanding" this alien culture and coming to peace would be preferable to waging war, but the utter incompatibility of the combatant's mindsets lead to a defensible conclusion that only defeat of one will ensure the survival of the other.
Card lays out the question as to how much goodness can be retained when destroying the "other" is the chosen path.
This sort of generational resonance is the mark of an outstanding book.
I don't read many books, and when I invest time in one I expect it to prompt a good think for my troubles.
Ender's Game certainly did.
Lauded with both the Hugo and Nebula awards, it tells the story of genius child Andrew "Ender" Wiggin who is reared to be the military savior of humanity.
At the tender age of six, he is whisked off to battle school where warfighters tutor him in the lonely job of commanding Earth's fleet against the alien "buggers" who twice attacked earth.
I read Ender's Game over a weekend.
It was an interesting page-turner.
While it took its time to get to a point, somehow the journey did not seem tedious.
Card's well woven vignettes of life in a future space based Annapolis for baby geniuses explores the difficulties of growing up by showing ordinary boyhood conflicts backlit by the terror of human extinction.
The author's premise that a six-year-old could absorb in four years not just the operational aspects of command, but the human nuances of leading people under your command tripped my plausibility alarm.
Even a genius needs maturity.
This small flaw, though, is only a token criticism of an excellent book.
The author barely whispers of faith, but still soulfully contemplates innocents forced inexorably to actions of overwhelming moral implication.
Card's characters' moral spectrum run from white to ecru.
By not resorting to blinding white goodness and inky black evil, the story's tone is set to look at the great question of the book, "what price may we pay for survival?" These subtle shades better reflect those found in real life.
What passes for human villainy are defensible actions, only reprehensible were it not for the plausible fear of destruction by the ruthless "other".
For me this subtlety of moral conflict is the power of the narrative.
Originally published in 1983 (I believe) it reflects the Cold War fear of extinction prevalent then.
Our fear was annihilation of both person and freedom, and as we contemplated the former we became unsure if the latter were worth the risk.
We knew the alien culture of Communism was incompatible with our bourgeoisie culture of freedom of thought, worship, expression and commerce, but brinkmanship with the fate of the world in balance over ideals invited ambiguity when weighing risks against outcomes.
Today we don't face the theoretical destruction of millions, but the actual destruction of thousands.
Our enemy employs a moral calculus equally alien to us.
"Understanding" this alien culture and coming to peace would be preferable to waging war, but the utter incompatibility of the combatant's mindsets lead to a defensible conclusion that only defeat of one will ensure the survival of the other.
Card lays out the question as to how much goodness can be retained when destroying the "other" is the chosen path.
This sort of generational resonance is the mark of an outstanding book.
I don't read many books, and when I invest time in one I expect it to prompt a good think for my troubles.
Ender's Game certainly did.
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