What happens when an A.I, programmed to go into space, changes its mind, and decides to live its own life?

Preston tackles the question of Artificial Intelligence and what happens when they are so self-modifying and quick to learn that they can function as a human being who can also control a frightening amount of electronic and internet-based information.

A thought provoking and fast=paced story.

‘I don’t care. I don’t mind working hard when there’s hope. It was having no more hope that was too much for me.’

This may come as a spoiler to people but I have to get this off my chest because I absolutely detest books whose title promises something that the book does not deliver:

The is no bloody kraken in this book. 

The kraken only appears as a reference to a poem by Tennyson in which the ills of the world are unleashed. And while this describes the story of the book perfectly, it does little for the unassuming reader who has come here for a kraken adventure.

With this out of the way, there were some marvellous aspects of human behaviour laid out in this book - mostly I fear, human behaviour at its worst. One was the way that fear-mongering and distress will cause people to divide into an us v them mentality. Another, was that despite a likelihood of survival being better in a group, everyone is seen as a victim first, then as an asset to accomplish a common goal. 

As this book was written during the Cold War, the utterly stupid assumption that dropping atom bombs on a problem would solve it made an appearance, too. And this assumption was flaunted quite readily as a solution. Of course, it was of absolutely no help whatsoever.

And so it took the near destruction of the world for some nation, who at the time of writing had been written off, to find a solution. 

There really is much truth in Wyndham's observations of humans and politics, even tho his description of technology was dated even at the time of writing. This book is sci-fi, but it really is not about fancy technology at all. If anything, it is about the destruction of civilisation by an unknown force who ultimately causes a type of disaster that is very real to the present reader - the melting of the ice caps.

I really admire Wyndham's foresight on this point along with his observations about humans. 

Unfortunately, Wyndham's style of writing was not for me. In particular, our main character's narrative was abysmally boring. It was really only when conversing with his wife or some other characters that the story really came to life. This made the reading experience an exercise in drudgery, and the book deserves so much better.

‘They reckons as there was well over a bloody ’undred of the damn things done-in them two nights. And then there’s all those that come up in other places, too – there must be bloody thousands of the bastards a-crawlin’ all over the bloody sea-bottom. Time something was bloody done about ’em, I say. But no. “No cause for alarm,” says the bloody Government. Huh, we’ve had a basinful of that before. It’ll go on being no bloody cause for bloody alarm until a few hundred poor devils somewhere ’as got their bloody selves lassoed by flying jellyfish. Then it’ll be all emergency orders and bloody panic. You watch.’

Just the perfect quote on this day of nut-case politics led by a nut-case PM and his nut-case goons...but anyway, just a quick update on John Wyndham's The Kraken Wakes.

I'm utterly dismayed to confirm that there is no bloody Kraken. Ugh. 

This also means that the book is not right for the Cryptozoologist square. 

So, I am playing one of my Transfiguration Cards:

...and turn my Cryptozoologist square into:

The narration is still dull as ditch water which is a shame because there are some really interesting points brought up by Wyndham.

Wait! What?

Nooooo...

Ugh.

I may have to use my first Transfiguration Card already. :(

Oh, and I am finding the MC's narration still really dull. 

Below the thunders of the upper deep;
Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee
About his shadowy sides: above him swell
Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;
And far away into the sickly light,
From many a wondrous grot and secret cell
Unnumber’d and enormous polypi
Winnow with giant fins the slumbering green.
There hath he lain for ages and will lie
Battening upon huge seaworms in his sleep,
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by men and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.

 

ALFRED TENNYSON

I'm reading this one for the Cryptozoologist square. I was reluctant about this one but the book has a very intriguing beginning. I'm a little reminded of Verne's 20,000 Leagues but I know it's not going to be like this.