- Heinlein, Robert A. and Spider Robinson.
Variable Star.
New York: Tor, 2006.
ISBN 0-7653-1312-X.
-
After the death of Virginia Heinlein in 2003, curators of the Heinlein
papers she had deeded to the
Heinlein Prize Trust discovered
notes for a “juvenile” novel which Heinlein had plotted in
1955 but never got around to writing. Through a somewhat
serendipitous process, Spider Robinson, who The New York Times
Book Review called “the new Robert Heinlein” in
1982 (when the original Robert Heinlein was still very much
on the scene—I met him in 1984, and his last novel was published
in 1987, the year before his death), was tapped to
“finish” the novel from the notes. To his horror (as
described in the afterword in this volume), Robinson discovered the
extant notes stopped in mid-sentence, in the middle of the story, with
no clue as to the ending Heinlein intended. Taking some comments
Heinlein made in a radio interview as the point of departure,
Robinson rose to the challenge, cranking in a plot twist worthy
of the Grandmaster.
Taking on a task like this is to expose oneself to carping
and criticism from purists, but to this Heinlein fan who reads
for the pleasure of it, Spider Robinson has acquitted himself
superbly here. He deftly blends events in recent decades into
the Future History timeline, and even hints at a plausible way
current events could lead to the rise of the Prophet. It is
a little disconcerting to encounter
Simpsons
allusions in a time line in which Leslie LeCroix of Harriman
Enterprises was the first to land on the Moon, but recurring
Heinlein themes are blended into the story line in such
a way that you're tempted to think that this is the way
Heinlein would have written such a book, were he still writing
today. The language and situations are substantially more
racy than the classic Heinlein juveniles, but not out of line
with Heinlein's novels of the 1970s and 80s.
Sigh…aren't there any adults on the
editorial staff at Tor? First they let three misspellings of
Asimov's character Hari Seldon slip through in Orson Scott
Card's Empire,
and now the very first time the Prophet appears
on p. 186, his first name is missing the final “h;”, and
on p. 310 the title of Heinlein's first juvenile,
Rocket Ship Galileo is
given as “Rocketship Galileo”. Readers intrigued
by the saxophone references in the novel may wish to check out
The Devil's Horn, which
discusses, among many other things, the possible connection between
“circular breathing” and the mortality rate of
saxophonists (and I always just thought it was that “cool
kills”).
As you're reading this novel, you may find yourself somewhere
around two hundred pages in, looking at the rapidly dwindling
hundred-odd pages to go, and wondering is anything ever
going to happen? Keep turning those pages—you
will not be disappointed. Nor, I think, would Heinlein,
wherever he is, regarding this realisation of his vision
half a century after he consigned it to a file drawer.
March 2007 