Babel-17/Empire Star: Nebula Award Winner by Samuel R. Delany (English) Paperbac

Description: Babel-17/Empire Star by Samuel R. Delany Winner of the Nebula Award for best novel of the year, "Babel-17" is a fascinating tale of a famous poet bent on deciphering a secret language that is the key to the enemys deadly force, a task that requires she travel with a splendidly improbable crew to the site of the next attack. FORMAT Paperback LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Publisher Description Author of the bestselling Dhalgren and winner of four Nebulas and one Hugo, Samuel R. Delany is one of the most acclaimed writers of speculative fiction.Babel-17, winner of the Nebula Award for best novel of the year, is a fascinating tale of a famous poet bent on deciphering a secret language that is the key to the enemys deadly force, a task that requires she travel with a splendidly improbable crew to the site of the next attack. For the first time, Babel-17 is published as the author intended with the short novel Empire Star, the tale of Comet Jo, a simple-minded teen thrust into a complex galaxy when hes entrusted to carry a vital message to a distant world. Spellbinding and smart, both novels are testimony to Delanys vast and singular talent. Author Biography Samuel R. Delany was born and raised in Harlem, where he still lives. He is a professor of English and Creative Writing at Temple University in Philadelphia. Review "The most interesting writer of science fiction writing in English today."–The New York Times Book Review Prizes Winner of Nebula Awards 1966 Review Quote "The most interesting writer of science fiction writing in English today."The New York Times Book Review Excerpt from Book 1 Its a port city. Here fumes rust the sky, the General thought. Industrial gases flushed the evening with oranges, salmons, purples with too much red. West, ascending and descending transports, shuttling cargoes to stellarcenters and satellites, lacerated the clouds. Its a rotten poor city too, thought the General, turning the corner by the garbage-strewn curb. Since the Invasion six ruinous embargoes for months apiece had strangled this city whose lifeline must pulse with interstellar commerce to survive. Sequestered, how could this city exist? Six times in twenty years hed asked himself that. Answer? It couldnt. Panics, riots, burnings, twice cannibalism-- The General looked from the silhouetted loading-towers that jutted behind the rickety monorail to the grimy buildings. The streets were smaller here, cluttered with Transport workers, loaders, a few stellarmen in green uniforms, and the horde of pale, proper men and women who managed the intricate sprawl of customs operations. They are quiet now, intent on home or work, the General thought. Yet all these people have lived for two decades under the Invasion. Theyve starved during the embargoes, broken windows, looted, run screaming before firehoses, torn flesh from a corpses arm with decalcified teeth. Who is this animal man? He asked himself the abstract question to blur the lines of memory. It was easier, being a general, to ask about the "animal man" than about the woman who had sat in the middle of the sidewalk during the last embargo holding her skeletal baby by one leg, or the three scrawny teenage girls who had attacked him on the street with razors (--she had hissed through brown teeth, the bar of metal glistening toward his chest, "Come here, Beefsteak! Come get me, Lunch meat . . ." He had used karate--) or the blind man who had walked up the avenue, screaming. Pale and proper men and women now, who spoke softly, who always hesitated before they let an expression fix their faces, with pale, proper, patriotic ideas: work for victory over the Invaders; Alona Star and Kip Rhyak were great in "Stellar Holliday" but Ronald Quar was the best serious actor around. They listened to Hi Lites music (or did they listen, wondered the General, during those slow dances where no one touched). A position in Customs was a good secure job. Working directly in Transport was probably more exciting and fun to watch in the movies; but really, such strange people-- Those with more intelligence and sophistication discussed Rydra Wongs poetry. They spoke of the Invasion often, with some hundred phrases consecrated by twenty years repetition on newscasts and in the papers. They referred to the embargoes seldom, and only by the one word. Take any of them, take any million. Who are they? What do they want? What would they say if given a chance to say anything? Rydra Wong has become this ages voice. The General recalled the glib line from a hyperbolic review. Paradoxical: a military leader with a military goal, he was going to meet Rydra Wong now. The streetlights came on and his image glazed on the plate glass window of the bar. Thats right, Im not wearing my uniform this evening. He saw a tall, muscular man with the authority of half a century in his craggy face. He was uncomfortable in the gray civilian suit. Till age thirty, the physical impression he had left with people was "big and bumbling." Afterwards--the change had coincided with the Invasion--it was "massive and authoritarian." Had Rydra Wong come to see him at Administrative Alliance Headquarters, he would have felt secure. But he was in civvies, not in stellarman-green. The bar was new to him. And she was the most famous poet in five explored galaxies. For the first time in a long while he felt bumbling again. He went inside. And whispered, "My God, shes beautiful," without even having to pick her from among the other women. "I didnt know she was so beautiful, not from the pictures . . ." She turned to him (as the figure in the mirror behind the counter caught sight of him and turned away), stood up from the stool, smiled. He walked forward, took her hand, the words Good evening, Miss Wong, tumbling on his tongue till he swallowed them unspoken. And now she was about to speak. She wore copper lipstick, and the pupils of her eyes were beaten disks of copper-- "Babel-17," she said. "I havent solved it yet, General Forester." A knitted indigo dress, and her hair like fast water at night spilling one shoulder; he said, "That doesnt really surprise us, Miss Wong." Surprise, he thought. She puts her hand on the bar, she leans back on the stool, hip moving in knitted blue, and with each movement, I am amazed, surprised, bewildered. Can I be this off guard, or can she really be that-- "But Ive gotten further than you people at Military have been able to." The gentle line of her mouth bowed with gentler laughter. "From what Ive been led to expect of you, Miss Wong, that doesnt surprise me either." Who is she? he thought. He had asked the question of the abstract population. He had asked it of his own reflected image. He asked it of her now, thinking, No one else matters, but I must know about her. Thats important. I have to know. "First of all, General," she was saying, "Babel-17 isnt a code." His mind skidded back to the subject and arrived teetering. "Not a code? But I thought Cryptography had at least established--" He stopped, because he wasnt sure what Cryptography had established, and because he needed another moment to haul himself down from the ledges of her high cheekbones, to retreat from the caves of her eyes. Tightening the muscles of his face, he marshaled his thoughts to Babel-17. The Invasion: Babel-17 might be one key to ending this twenty-year scourge. "You mean weve just been trying to decipher a lot of nonsense?" "Its not a code," she repeated. "Its a language." The General frowned. "Well, whatever you call it, code or language, we still have to figure out what it says. As long as we dont understand it, were a hell of a way from where we should be." The exhaustion and pressure of the last months homed in his belly, a secret beast to strike the back of his tongue, harshening his words. Her smile had left, and both hands were on the counter. He wanted to retract the harshness. She said, "Youre not directly connected with the Cryptography Department." The voice was even, calming. He shook his head. "Then let me tell you this. Basically, General Forester, there are two types of codes, ciphers, and true codes. In the first, letters, or symbols that stand for letters, are shuffled and juggled according to a pattern. In the second, letters, words, or groups of words are replaced by other letters, symbols, or words. A code can be one type or the other, or a combination. But both have this in common: once you find the key, you just plug it in and out come logical sentences. A language, however, has its own internal logic, its own grammar, its own way of putting thoughts together with words that span various spectra of meaning. There is no key you can plug in to unlock the exact meaning. At best you can get a close approximation." "Do you mean that Babel-17 decodes into some other language?" "Not at all. Thats the first thing I checked. We can take a probability scan on various elements and see if they are congruent with other language patterns, even if these elements are in the wrong order. No. Babel-17 is a language itself which we do not understand." "I think--" General Forester tried to smile--"what youre trying to tell me is that because it isnt a code, but rather an alien language, we might as well give up." If this were defeat, receiving it from her was almost relief. But she shook her head. "Im afraid thats not what Im saying at all. Unknown languages have been deciphered without translations, Linear B and Hittite for example. But if Im to get further with Babel-17, Ill have to know a great deal more." The General raised his eyebrows. "What more do you need to know? Weve given you all our samples. When we get more, well certainly--" "General, I have to know everything you know about Babel-17; where you got it, when, under what circumstances, anything that might give me a clue to the subject matter." "Weve released all the information that we--" "You gave me ten pages of double-spaced typewritten garble with the code name Babel-17 and asked me what it meant. With just that I cant tell you. With more, I might. Its that simple." He thought: If it were that simple, if it were only that simple, we would never have called you in about it, Rydra Wong. She said: "If it were that simple, if it were only that simple, you would never have called me in about it, General Forester." He started, for one absurd moment convinced she had read his mind. But of course, she would know that. Wouldnt she? "General Forester, has your Cryptography Department even discovered its a language?" "If they have, they havent told me." "Im fairly sure they dont know. Ive made a few structural inroads on the grammar. Have they done that?" "No." "General, although they know a hell of a lot about codes, they know nothing of the nature of language. That sort of idiotic specialization is one of the reasons I havent worked with them for the past s Details ISBN0375706690 Author Samuel R. Delany Short Title BABEL-17/EMPIRE STAR Pages 336 Series Vintage Language English ISBN-10 0375706690 ISBN-13 9780375706691 Media Book Format Paperback DEWEY FIC Illustrations Yes Year 2002 Imprint Vintage Books Place of Publication New York Country of Publication United States Residence NY, US DOI 10.1604/9780375706691 AU Release Date 2002-01-08 NZ Release Date 2002-01-08 US Release Date 2002-01-08 UK Release Date 2002-01-08 Publisher Random House USA Inc Publication Date 2002-01-08 Audience General Subtitle Nebula Award Winner We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. With fast shipping, low prices, friendly service and well over a million items - you're bound to find what you want, at a price you'll love! TheNile_Item_ID:2621870;

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