I'm going to use an arguably banal and trite metaphor here: that of a love affair. Okay, maybe not so arguable. It is a banal and trite metaphor. But that’s okay, I think, because the “relationship” many of us experience with our books and our authors is like a love affair, is it not? So forget that the metaphor is worn or hackneyed, because it’s apt, and it’s something to which many of you will relate, and it’s the best way I can think of to communicate how this book affected me.
To be more precise, I am comparing my reading of The Telling to the beginning of a love affair ... to the first date. That’s how I see it, anyway ... my first date with UKL ... the first of many, I hope.
UKL is the woman at the edge of my circle of friends. Not that she’s unpopular or lonely, mind you. She has a circle of her own. A rather large circle, from what I gather. It’s just that my circle only slightly overlaps her own. She is beautiful from a distance, and she certainly looks pretty enough up close, too. She always seems to be involved in conversation and everybody always has nice things to say about her. I have checked her out across the room at parties but never really had the motivation to introduce myself. On the one hand I’m always game for flirting with a pretty girl, but on the other hand I have plenty of friends and I’m not eager to spend the energy cultivating another relationship.
Eventually, a friend of mine leads UKL over and introduces us, thinking we might hit it off, which in fact we do. At the end of the party we both play it cool, exchange phone numbers, and part on a hug.
I let a few days pass before I make the call. For one thing, I want to keep playing it cool; that’s my style. But really, I’m afraid of getting involved in something right now. Life is plenty busy. A new relationship can be work, you know? And it’s always a risk. I like the known quantity. Still, I can’t stop thinking about the pretty girl that captured my attention so completely the other night, so I pull out the digits and dial. We agree to meet for drinks after work. Nothing too big. Nothing too committal. Something from which either of us could exit if we don’t have a good feeling about things.
For me, The Telling began as drinks after work, and ended late that night with a reluctant parting and a lasting impression. There will, without a doubt, be a second date.
As I read The Telling I discovered a rich imagination, a vibrant story teller, and a fair and thoughtful judge of character. UKL impressed me greatly. I thought at first that her writing reminded me of Herbert, but with a softness around the edges and woven through the words. But that was just a first impression; I quickly fell in love with UKL on her own merits and not because she was reminiscent of anyone else.
The Telling is about “The Telling” – an ancient way of life among a remarkable people on a planet called Aka. The Telling is a religion, a philosophy, a cosmology, a sociology, and an economy tied and woven inseparably together. It is a bit utopian, really. But it has become fragmented, hidden, and perhaps a bit distorted. Our protagonist is a historian-anthropologist-sociologist from Earth named Sutty. She has come to Aka to learn from its people, and she must patiently peel back the concrete-and-steel surface imposed by the modern Corporation-State. The State has criminalized The Telling, seeing it as a threat to progress and, as you might guess, as a threat to its own authority. Sutty’s patience is rewarded in the end, but along the way her stamina is tested, her objectivity is challenged, and her beliefs are questioned. The Telling gives you ideas to contemplate in a story you can savor. Like I said, it left a lasting impression on me and there will be a second date with UKL.
Pretty cheesy review, huh?