All of Ted Chiang's short stories in Stories of Your Life and Others have great premises. If nothing else, they make for enticing jacket covers: the blurb for my second favorite story, "Tower of Babylon," reads, "What if men built a tower from Earth to Heaven--and broke through to Heaven's other side?" and the blurb for my favorite story, "Hell is the Absence of God," reads, "What if all the beliefs of fundamentalist Christianity were literally true, and the sight of sinners being swallowed into Hell were a routine event on city streets?"

In Chiang's most successful stories--such as the two I listed above--he executes these daring ideas with aplomb. "Tower of Babylon" doesn't just convey the awe-inspiring size of a tower that reaches to the vault of heaven; it also charts one man's epiphany about the might of Yahweh. And "Hell is the Absence of God," in addition to being a deliciously imagined alternative universe, also makes a serious point about the nature of religious devotion that shames the timidity of the Book of Job.

Chiang's weakest stories, by contrast, do little more than hash through an interesting idea: "Understand" and "Liking What You See" are thought-provoking but not really interesting in themselves. In other stories, Chiang's attempts at creating emotional effect become a little too transparent. "Division by Zero" is the most obviously manipulative example, but even the feature story, "Story of Your Life," has a weirdly maudlin framing device. (But I should note that it also has one of the best premises of the book--in fact, its discussion of Fermat's Principle of Least Time drove me to learn more about the theory.)

Even at his worst, however, Chiang is a superb writer, with an uncanny ear for dialogue, a masterful control of plot, and a variety of diverse voices, all of them unerringly true. "Seventy-Two Letters," for instance, perfectly emulates the slightly stuffy tone of a British novel ("Consequent to the great fecundity of the lower classes, our nation would eventually drown in coarse dullards," one character drawls). And "Story of Your Life" features one of my favorite scenes ever--a slyly humorous exchange that is pitch perfect:

[Setup: The main character (the narrator) is a single mother of a young teenage daughter (who is "you"). The narrator is waiting for her date.]

For once, the person waiting for her date to arrive is me. . . . You'll have a friend of yours, a blond girl with the unlikely name of Roxie, hanging out with you, giggling.

"You may feel the urge to make comments about him," I'll say, checking myself in the hallway mirror. "Just restrain yourselves until we leave."

"Don't worry, Mom," you'll say. "We'll do it so that he won't know. Roxie, you ask me what I think the weather will be like tonight. Then I'll say what I think of Mom's date."

"Right," Roxie will say.

"No, you most definitely will not," I'll say.

"Relax, Mom. He'll never know; we do this all the time."

"What a comfort that is."

A little later on, Nelson will arrive to pick me up. . . . Nelson is ruggedly handsome, to your evident approval. Just as we're about to leave, Roxie will say to you casually, "So what do you think the weather will be like tonight?"

"I think it's going to be really hot," you'll answer.

Roxie will nod in agreement. Nelson will say, "Really? I thought they said it was going to be cool."

"I have a sixth sense about these things," you'll say. Your face will give nothing away. "I get the feeling it's going to be a scorcher. Good thing you're dressed for it, Mom."

I'll glare at you, and say good night.

As I lead Nelson toward his car, he'll ask me, amused, "I'm missing something here, aren't I?"

"A private joke," I'll mutter. "Don't ask me to explain it."

Stories of Your Life and Others isn't perfect. But it's a tremendous debut for an exciting new science fiction writer.

Copyright © 2005 Steven Wu