Ender In Exile, By Orson Scott Card

I disagree with Orson Scott Card on many issues, like religion, politics, and societal roles for women.

Having said that, I’ve been a religious [Ha. Ha.] reader of his excellent online reviews at Hatrack River since he started writing them. Card has introduced me to some of my favorite current artists, like Sherwood Smith and Patrick Rothfuss. Oddly, for someone with whom I have so little in common, his tastes and mine seem to match utterly perfectly. When Card loves a book, I love a book. When he has something to say about a movie, I pay attention, and frequently act on his recommendations. I’m not a chick-flick kinda girl, but I actually enjoyed Julie & Julia; I guarantee that if OSC hadn’t thought it so witty, I would never have bothered. In fact, his tastes and mine have coincided in every way possible—except for his review of Lost In Translation. For some reason, I loved it, and he hated it.

How did I come to find out about this giant in the world of science fiction? I used to work as a comic book store employee in Tualatin, Oregon. (Hollaaaaa! Ancient Wonders!) I don’t remember his last name, but Will, one of our regulars, was talking to me one day, and asked me about the books I was reading. I have always been a fantasy reader first, and generally read more character-based scifi as opposed to the hard stuff. I probably mumbled something about David Eddings or Mercedes Lackey, and he handed me his copy of Ender’s Game. For all three of you who are reading this and do not know what Ender’s Game is, allow me to illuminate you. Ender’s Game is one of the most brilliant works of fiction in the twentieth century. Its philosophy, narrative structure, and compelling storyline sears its way into your mind and the story collection you keep in your head. Go. Read now. Don’t come back until you’ve partaken.

SPOILERS FOR PREVIOUS NOVELS IN THE ENDER SERIES WILL FOLLOW!!!!

Ender In Exile is a wonderful transition from the tense, psychologically violent original trilogy, and the political nihilism of the Shadow series. It takes the Enderverse off into an entirely different realm. We no longer see the shell of Andrew Wiggin as he is after 3000 relative years of being an intergalactic nomad through the eyes of his eventual family on Lusitania. Now, we are privy to the mind of an early adolescent as he plots his way to survival. What do you do when you’re the most famous person ever to have lived…the greatest general, the mightiest weapon…and you’re only twelve years old? OSC finally answers that question, among many others I’ve always had, like how John Paul and Teresa Wiggin cope with their son’s notoriety and absence. I never liked the way their characters seemed to drop from sight after their children went their separate ways. I also always wanted to know what inspired Valentine to leave Earth to be with her younger brother on a cramped colony ship as opposed to the career and successes she could have had on earth as the mighty Demosthenes, a nom de politique for her online rabblerousing alter ego. Suffice it to say that OSC answers these questions and many more over the course of relating Ender’s first interstellar voyage.

If I have any plaint about Ender and his development over time, it is this: Ender makes the right choice, all the time. The strength of OSC’s writing is that he makes us SEE people, in all their violence, contradiction, and joy. People do horrible things out of the belief that they are right, or at least that the alternative to their actions would be worse. Ender is the embodiment of that…but he makes certain choices on the colony ship as regards his personal development that I find unconvincing. We are talking about a boy, and one whose gifts are indisputable, but a boy, nonetheless. I know a little about being different from your peers, and if there is any one character trait I see in people who have intelligence and the capacity to serve their fellow man, it is that there must be some hedonistic compensation somewhere in your life to make up for all the stress, struggle, and pain of being extraordinary. Ender does not exhibit that faint strain of hedonism that would convince me, finally, that he could be human. We must all make mistakes, and possessing heartrending, isolating intelligence does not exempt you from that fate…it only changes the kind and frequency of your mistakes. In Children Of The Mind, OSC was far more attuned to the vicious struggle that wildly intelligent people with obsessive-compulsive disorder undertake every day. He captured the helplessness, the inevitability, and finally the wrongheaded pride in one’s own capacity to intellectually outstrip most of humanity—even though that capacity comes at the expense of a mind you cannot control. I have only one issue with Ender in this novel: where is the price that he pays? Not the external price of exile, and not the internal pain of isolation from success and excellence. I mean the price a person pays for possessing intellect that makes them quite literally a freak of nature. Close to superhuman intelligence in our world comes with its own set of handicaps.

A mathematician beset with crippling social anxiety disorder.

A man who could learn a language in a day, but not understand romance.

A man who nearly ruled the world, but couldn’t leave his room.

There is a price to pay for being extraordinary, and OSC does not convince me that someone of Ender’s intelligence could pay it through suffering brought on him by other people’s actions, instead of the result of living with the trauma of a mind that won’t stop operating. Regardless, OSC does not disappoint with the storyline. I’ve seen part of this tale coming for a long time, ever since Achilles had ALMOST all of his plots foiled. I can’t wait for the next title in the series; I’ve never spoken to Card, but his story has entered my mind and become part of the way I see the world. I can think of no greater compliment than the fact that I want to store more of his tale in my mind.