We who are about to--

Joanna Russ' We Who Are About To... has two parts to it: the first is a short sharp shock, a feminist New Wave (of sf) story kicking and screaming against colonial, patriarchal myth. The second is an arduous stream of consciousness as the narrator's mind eats itself while she starves to death.

Odd to discover very strong parallels with Atul Gawande's Being Mortal; that the extension and perpetuation of life is often more horrific and anti-life than pro-.

"One thing dying people usually know, if they have any sense left, is what they want; and that is so rare in the human condition that it commands a certain kind of respect."

Brief, bleak, and beautifully written. Like the planet it describes, this book sits alone in space largely uncharted by the rest of its genre, its shape and focus alien, its superficially familiar landscapes deceptive and unforgiving. Russ knows what she's doing, though, and she does it precisely. If it's like anything else, it's probably most like Tiptree.

Good book, but a masterpiece of science fiction it's not.

Mostly, there's not much science there. If you think of SF as speculative fiction, there's also not much speculation there.

Although it starts from a classic SF premise, it quickly turns into a political and spiritual introspection of the protagonist. That is interesting in many ways, and I could discuss the themes for hours on end.

I guess it's one of those misclassified books, like Lem (who insisted he wrote philosophy, whilst writing much more hard SF than this work), or some of Piers Anthony's writings.

Great read, but don't expect SF.