Science Fiction
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Red Mars (Mars Trilogy)
Winner of the Nebula Award for Best Novel • Discover the novel that launched one of science fiction's most beloved, acclaimed, and awarded trilogies: Kim Stanley Robinson's masterly near-future chronicle of interplanetary colonization.
"A staggering book . . . the best novel on the colonization of Mars that has ever been written."-Arthur C. Clarke
For centuries, the barren, desolate landscape of the red planet has beckoned to humankind. Now a group of one hundred colonists begins a mission whose ultimate goal is to transform Mars into a more Earthlike planet. They will place giant satellite mirrors in Martian orbit to reflect light onto its surface. Black dust sprinkled on the polar caps will capture warmth and melt the ice. And massive tunnels drilled into the mantle will create stupendous vents of hot gases. But despite these ambitious goals, there are some who would fight to the death to prevent Mars from ever being changed.
"A staggering book . . . the best novel on the colonization of Mars that has ever been written."-Arthur C. Clarke
For centuries, the barren, desolate landscape of the red planet has beckoned to humankind. Now a group of one hundred colonists begins a mission whose ultimate goal is to transform Mars into a more Earthlike planet. They will place giant satellite mirrors in Martian orbit to reflect light onto its surface. Black dust sprinkled on the polar caps will capture warmth and melt the ice. And massive tunnels drilled into the mantle will create stupendous vents of hot gases. But despite these ambitious goals, there are some who would fight to the death to prevent Mars from ever being changed.
Editorial Reviews
"Absorbing . . . a scientifically informed imagination of rare ambition at work."-The New York Times Book Review
"Tremendous . . . a high-water mark in novels of Earth emigration."-The Washington Post Book World
"Tremendous . . . a high-water mark in novels of Earth emigration."-The Washington Post Book World
Readers Top Reviews
Herr Holz Paul
The Mars mission seems now to be so close to home that this book has a virtually contemporary feel. The mission will be of enormous public interest. I found this book quite easy to read - it is a very compelling subject. This is no longer really Sci-Fi and I am sure everyone involved with the mission will or has already read it. As well as covering a wide range of the physical challenges we will face, it is also a very human story touching on psychological complexity which will invariably play a role. A key theme and one of great interest is how society will evolve given what is in effect a clean canvas. But how much baggage are we importing from our Earthly culture? What of those primitive instincts we harbour? KSR goes a long way in speculating on these questions. I was rather sorry to see all the progress made in colonising Mars go up in smoke as the `Terrans`, ( a rather apt sounding word for the powers back on Earth), want to step up mineral exploitation amidst rebellion from the Martians. However KSR manages his own veering from utopian into dystopian without too much disruption and with some fascinating calamitous occurrences although the plot did seem to evaporate a bit towards the end.
Dr. W. L. Lyon
I'd never read SF - then I got the Mars trilogy and became a fan. I think it's accurate - if we wanted to transform Mars to a livable planet, this seems like what would happen. (People who know a lot more about science than I do, to whom I gave the trilogy, tell me it is accurate.) But I loved it, and loved discovering SF. (I'm being asked to review this now because I bought the trilogy as a birthday present for a grandson... I have a bad habit of giving books I love to people I love...)
Alex AvrioJezzamat
This started as a good conceptual SciFi, but for me it soon got bogged down in the fairly dry politics between different factions of colonists. This facet was interesting for a bit, but I felt it was overly long and meandering, and would have preferred a little more focus. Ultimately I felt I got a little bogged down in it, and didn't feel this lived up to the classic status it is often assigned.
Mike G
A fascinating depiction of the colonization of Mars from scientific, social and political perspectives. Twenty plus years after its initial publication, Red Mars holds up well in comparison to more recent film and literary works on the exploration and settlement of Mars, which is a tribute to how well the book was initially researched by Robinson. Robinson demonstrates an extraordinary grasp of the geography and science of Mars as well as the ways in which human culture might interact with, evolve, or regress in such a challenging environment. Robinson also has an interesting take on the potential political challenges associated with Terran exploitation of the people and resources of Mars, which is one of the main story arcs along with the science and ethics of terraforming Mars into a more Earth-like planet. Though populated with numerous characters and plot lines, the main character is Mars itself as captured in the many lengthy (and sometimes repetitive) physical descriptions of the planet throughout the book. As other reviewers have suggested, the extensive physical descriptions of Mars could have been pared back without compromising the impact of Robinson's panoramic vision of the planet. Aspects of the story might have benefited from further development, such as the ending of the book, a number of seemingly disconnected secondary plot lines, and the cryptic death of John Boone. Still, I recommend Red Mars and look forward to reading the other two books in the series and other works by Robinson.
Short Excerpt Teaser
"And so we came here. But what they didn't realize was that by the time we got to Mars, we would be so changed by the voyage out that nothing we had been told to do mattered anymore. It wasn't like submarining or settling the Wild West-it was an entirely new experience, and as the flight of the Ares went on, the Earth finally became so distant that it was nothing but a blue star among all the others, its voices so delayed that they seemed to come from a previous century. We were on our own; and so we became fundamentally different beings."
All lies, Frank Chalmers thought irritably. He was sitting in a row of dignitaries, watching his old friend John Boone give the usual Boone Inspirational Address. It made Chalmers weary. The truth was the trip to Mars had been the functional equivalent of a long train ride. Not only had they not become fundamentally different beings, they had actually become more like themselves than ever, stripped of habits until they were left with nothing but the naked raw material of their selves. But John stood up there waving a forefinger at the crowd, saying, "We came here to make something new, and when we arrived our earthly differences fell away, irrelevant in this new world!" Yes, he meant it all literally. His vision of Mars was a lens that distorted everything he saw, a kind of religion. He would spout the same nonsense in private conversation, no matter how you rolled your eyes.
Chalmers stopped listening and let his gaze wander over the new city. They were going to call it Nicosia. It was the first town of any size to be built freestanding on the Martian surface; all the buildings were set inside what was in effect an immense clear tent, supported by a nearly invisible frame, and placed on the rise of Tharsis, west of Noctis Labyrinthus. This location gave it a tremendous view, with a distant western horizon punctuated by the broad peak of Pavonis Mons. For the Mars veterans in the crowd it was giddy stuff: they were on the surface, they were out of the trenches and mesas and craters, they could see forever! Hurrah!
A laugh from the audience drew Frank's attention back to his old friend. John Boone had a slightly hoarse voice and a friendly Midwestern accent, and he was by turns (and somehow even all at once) relaxed, intense, sincere, self-mocking, modest, confident, serious, and funny. In short, the perfect public speaker. And the audience was rapt; this was the First Man On Mars speaking to them, and judging by the looks on their faces they might as well have been watching Jesus produce their evening meal out of the loaves and fishes. And in fact John almost deserved their adoration for performing a similar miracle on another plane, transforming their tin-can existence into an astounding spiritual voyage. "On Mars we will come to care for each other more than ever before," John said, which really meant, Chalmers thought, an alarming incidence of the kind of behavior seen in rat overpopulation experiments; "Mars is a sublime, exotic and dangerous place," said John-meaning a frozen ball of oxidized rock on which they were exposed to about fifteen rem a year; "And with our work," John continued, "we are carving out a new social order and the next step in the human story"-i.e., the latest variant in primate dominance dynamics.
John finished with this flourish, and there was, of course, a huge roar of applause. Maya Toitovna then went to the podium to introduce Chalmers. Frank gave her a private look which meant he was in no mood for any of her jokes; she saw it and said, "Our next speaker has been the fuel in our little rocket ship," which somehow got a laugh. "His vision and energy are what got us to Mars in the first place, so save any complaints you may have for our next speaker, my old friend Frank Chalmers."
At the podium he found himself surprised by how big the town appeared. It covered a long triangle, and they were gathered at its highest point, a park occupying the western apex. Seven paths rayed down through the park to become wide, tree-lined, grassy boulevards. Between the boulevards stood low trapezoidal buildings, each faced with polished stone of a different color. The size and architecture of the buildings gave things a faintly Parisian look, Paris as seen by a drunk Fauvist in spring, sidewalk cafés and all. Four or five kilometers downslope the end of the city was marked by three slender skyscrapers, beyond which lay the low greenery of the farm. The skyscrapers were part of the tent framework, which overhead was an arched network of sky-colored lines. The tent fabric itself was invisible, and so taken all in all, it appeared that they stood in the open air. That was gold, that was. Nicosia was going to be a popular city.
All lies, Frank Chalmers thought irritably. He was sitting in a row of dignitaries, watching his old friend John Boone give the usual Boone Inspirational Address. It made Chalmers weary. The truth was the trip to Mars had been the functional equivalent of a long train ride. Not only had they not become fundamentally different beings, they had actually become more like themselves than ever, stripped of habits until they were left with nothing but the naked raw material of their selves. But John stood up there waving a forefinger at the crowd, saying, "We came here to make something new, and when we arrived our earthly differences fell away, irrelevant in this new world!" Yes, he meant it all literally. His vision of Mars was a lens that distorted everything he saw, a kind of religion. He would spout the same nonsense in private conversation, no matter how you rolled your eyes.
Chalmers stopped listening and let his gaze wander over the new city. They were going to call it Nicosia. It was the first town of any size to be built freestanding on the Martian surface; all the buildings were set inside what was in effect an immense clear tent, supported by a nearly invisible frame, and placed on the rise of Tharsis, west of Noctis Labyrinthus. This location gave it a tremendous view, with a distant western horizon punctuated by the broad peak of Pavonis Mons. For the Mars veterans in the crowd it was giddy stuff: they were on the surface, they were out of the trenches and mesas and craters, they could see forever! Hurrah!
A laugh from the audience drew Frank's attention back to his old friend. John Boone had a slightly hoarse voice and a friendly Midwestern accent, and he was by turns (and somehow even all at once) relaxed, intense, sincere, self-mocking, modest, confident, serious, and funny. In short, the perfect public speaker. And the audience was rapt; this was the First Man On Mars speaking to them, and judging by the looks on their faces they might as well have been watching Jesus produce their evening meal out of the loaves and fishes. And in fact John almost deserved their adoration for performing a similar miracle on another plane, transforming their tin-can existence into an astounding spiritual voyage. "On Mars we will come to care for each other more than ever before," John said, which really meant, Chalmers thought, an alarming incidence of the kind of behavior seen in rat overpopulation experiments; "Mars is a sublime, exotic and dangerous place," said John-meaning a frozen ball of oxidized rock on which they were exposed to about fifteen rem a year; "And with our work," John continued, "we are carving out a new social order and the next step in the human story"-i.e., the latest variant in primate dominance dynamics.
John finished with this flourish, and there was, of course, a huge roar of applause. Maya Toitovna then went to the podium to introduce Chalmers. Frank gave her a private look which meant he was in no mood for any of her jokes; she saw it and said, "Our next speaker has been the fuel in our little rocket ship," which somehow got a laugh. "His vision and energy are what got us to Mars in the first place, so save any complaints you may have for our next speaker, my old friend Frank Chalmers."
At the podium he found himself surprised by how big the town appeared. It covered a long triangle, and they were gathered at its highest point, a park occupying the western apex. Seven paths rayed down through the park to become wide, tree-lined, grassy boulevards. Between the boulevards stood low trapezoidal buildings, each faced with polished stone of a different color. The size and architecture of the buildings gave things a faintly Parisian look, Paris as seen by a drunk Fauvist in spring, sidewalk cafés and all. Four or five kilometers downslope the end of the city was marked by three slender skyscrapers, beyond which lay the low greenery of the farm. The skyscrapers were part of the tent framework, which overhead was an arched network of sky-colored lines. The tent fabric itself was invisible, and so taken all in all, it appeared that they stood in the open air. That was gold, that was. Nicosia was going to be a popular city.
