Should you read Red Mars?
Red Mars by Kim Stanley Robinson is one of those sci-fi classics that simply doesn’t hold up. I started reading it because when you Google, “most important science fiction novels” it’s one of the first hits. And to be honest, I understand why it was such a big deal when it was first released in 1995. It was pretty revolutionary in just how hard the science was, and I can see how it went on to influence other hard sci-fi books like The Martian, which fill a niche for readers that hunger for the nitty-gritty.
I am not a reader that hungers for the nitty-gritty, and I think as a society we increasingly hold writers to a higher standard when it comes to character, plot, brevity, and style. I’m fairly sure any contemporary editor would not have let Kim Stanley Robinson get away with spending half a page listing all the tools that Nadia brought with her. There is more emphasis on the technical aspects of living on Mars than there is on the actual characters who are doing it. Again, for some readers this is what they want — though honestly I think you’d be hard pressed to find anyone who finds literary merit in the page of tools.
I think we also have higher standards for representation. For instance, am I really meant to believe that one hundred people were sent to Mars, and every single one was heterosexual? Not once did it cross Kim Stanley Robinson’s mind that one of the crew members could be queer? One hundred straight people is a statistical anomaly! And am I really meant to believe that of one hundred astronauts from across the globe, there is only one Japanese person? And no Chinese people or Indian people? This ship was Americans, Russians, and Hiroko. Representation of women was also questionable. Maya’s only role in the story was essentially as an object of desire, and Frank and John’s weird toxicly-masculine feud over her really detracted from the story. (Not to mention the point Robinson makes of repeatedly mentioning the darkness of Frank’s skin, and repeatedly characterizing him is overly aggressive and sexually driven. I mean, seriously, did he not realize how that came off?)
However, there is a silver lining. There was a central question here, and one that made it worth reading after all. While Red Mars fails for me as a novel, it succeeds for me as a thought experiment. It asks: what are the ethics of colonizing another planet? What does it MEAN to colonize another planet? And for all my criticisms, I will admit, it does explore that question thoroughly.
One last major gripe: I find it unbelievable that humanity would get its shit together enough to send one hundred people to Mars and yet give absolutely zero thought to how things would develop when they got there. That simply does not ring true. That being said, if I take the concept at face value, the most interesting characters are those who have a strong vision for the Mars they want, and the most interesting conflicts are between those who differ on their fundamental views of what their objective is in exploring a new planet. I didn’t keep reading because I was interested in the extensive hard sci-fi details about how Nadia was fixing everything, or because I was intrigued by Maya’s inability to choose a lover. I keep reading because of Sax, Arkady, John, Hiroko, and Ann: the characters whose main purpose in the novel was furthering their ultimate objective for what Mars should look like. For me, Arkady’s dream of a reinvented human society, a communist utopia on Mars, is at the core of the novel. I mean, come on, half the cast is from Russia and it’s called RED Mars. There might as well have been the Marxist anthem playing in the background the entire time.
[Spoilers ahead]
The only aspect of this novel that made me feel genuine emotion was Arkady’s death, because with him died the dream of a humanity refounded without American capitalism.
I actually cared enough about where Mars was headed that maybe I would have gone on to read the sequel if it weren’t for the dry prose, the emphasis on technical details, the poor treatment of women, and (I won’t lie) the excessive number of heterosexuals. Read Red Mars if you want to get educated on a sci-fi classic, or if you enjoy imagining a Mars that’s red in more ways than one. If you want an exciting read, however, definitely don’t — unless you’re exceedingly fascinated by lists of tools.