Follow the Bouncing Disco Ball: Space Opera by Catherynne M. Valente

I spend a lot of time on social media. I know that I shouldn’t, but I can’t seem to help myself. Every now and then I get to witness something magical take place. I don’t always know that it’s going to end up being something special, but it’s delightful to see when I realize what has come to fruition from that magic moment. A few years ago, a writer that I follow on social media was tweeting about an event that I had previously not heard of: the Eurovision Song Contest. If you’re already aware of this event, I’m a little jealous of you. I’m not going to go into the history of the event, because I assume that you have the power of Google at your fingertips. The tl:dr version is this: the European nations (and Australia) get together and have a big, glittering, song contest every year. It’s amazing. I didn’t know it existed until that same writer started live-tweeting her watching experience. One of her followers jokingly suggested that she write a Eurovision novel. I saw that, kind of smiled at the idea of it, and then went on about my life, not thinking one bit about it for a long time. Until I saw that this writer had, indeed, written a Eurovision novel. Only, it was Eurovision in space. I may have placed faster pre-orders for other books prior to this one, but this was a pretty damned quick purchase decision for me. I eagerly awaited until April, when the book finally arrived in all of its glory.

Space Opera (2018)
Written by: Catherynne M. Valente
Genre: Science Fiction
Pages: 304 (hardcover)
Publisher: Saga Press

Why I Chose It: I have read several of Valente’s other novels before (my favorite is still Palimpsest), and the idea of a cosmic singing contest was too delightful to skip.

The premise:

A century ago, the Sentience Wars tore the galaxy apart and nearly ended the entire concept of intelligent space-faring life. In the aftermath, a curious tradition was invented—something to cheer up everyone who was left and bring the shattered worlds together in the spirit of peace, unity, and understanding.

Once every cycle, the great galactic civilizations gather for the Metagalactic Grand Prix—part gladiatorial contest, part beauty pageant, part concert extravaganza, and part continuation of the wars of the past. Species far and wide compete in feats of song, dance and/or whatever facsimile of these can be performed by various creatures who may or may not possess, in the traditional sense, feet, mouths, larynxes, or faces. And if a new species should wish to be counted among the high and the mighty, if a new planet has produced some savage group of animals, machines, or algae that claim to be, against all odds, sentient? Well, then they will have to compete. And if they fail? Sudden extermination for their entire species.

This year, though, humankind has discovered the enormous universe. And while they expected to discover a grand drama of diplomacy, gunships, wormholes, and stoic councils of aliens, they have instead found glitter, lipstick, and electric guitars. Mankind will not get to fight for its destiny—they must sing.

Decibel Jones and the Absolute Zeroes have been chosen to represent their planet on the greatest stage in the galaxy. And the fate of Earth lies in their ability to rock.

There will be no spoilers

Discussion: Any time that I start to try to discuss any of Valente’s works, I have a moment where Inigo Montoya briefly appears in my mind:

What do you do with a novel that contains (among other things) aliens of literally all shapes and sizes (including a race that is frequently compared to Looney Tunes’ Road Runner and one that strongly resembles a red panda), an intergalactic singing competition, a has-been glam rocker, and a snarky house cat? Reader, you revel in it. You shrug your shoulders, discard any expectations, and dive right in.

As we learn in the premise, Earth, somewhere in the not-so-distant future, has been discovered by intergalactic life, and it’s time to decide whether or not humanity is worthy of being considered “sentient” or not. You might be thinking that humans are, of course, sentient. We have created advanced technology, magnificent monuments, and breathtaking collections of art, music, and literature. If this isn’t sentience, what is?

Well, compassion, for one thing. This is a trait that you must admit that the human race, as a whole, is sometimes lacking. Valente is not shy about pointing this out. For example, when Decibel and Oort arrive at the Metagalactic Grand Prix, they find themselves answering for some of humanity’s greatest missteps. It is revealed that numerous animals have gone extinct on Earth. A representative of the Smaragdi, one of the alien races competing in the Grand Prix, asks whether or not there are any lions left on Earth. When Oort answers that lions went extinct, the Smargdi harshly disagrees with them:

“…strictly speaking, they didn’t go extinct, you made them extinct. Because they were carnivores. Because they were carnivores, and they didn’t look like you or think like you or talk like you, and they were a danger to you and yours, or at least they were years and years ago, because you’re made of the sort of thing they like to eat.” (page 216)

The Smargdi then lists off other examples of life on Earth that are extinct (rhinoceroses, dodos, and giraffes — all herbivores mind you), and human races that were decimated (the Lakota, the Cree, the Aboriginal Tasmanians), before slamming her point home with a set of questions that make you take a step back and truly think about what she’s asking:

“…before you cut the throat of the last lion or rhinoceros or dodo or Mayan farmer, did you let them sing a song? Did you let them lay down a beat? Did you let them dance for their lives? Did you let them try to prove to you that there was more in them than just a longing to eat and breed and lie in the sun and die with a full belly?” (pg 216)

Oort has to answer that, no, humanity didn’t allow for such a thing in its bloody quest for dominance. You have to wonder: do we humans even deserve this chance that we’ve been given, to sing for our right to exist? After the horrors that we have committed? How much more inferior to these aliens are we, really? And yet, they allow humanity something that we never offered to the races and species that we eliminated from our planet: a chance to prove our worth.

At one point during the Grand Prix, the commentators sarcastically comment that of course a certain alien species had to make things political. An indignant police chief shouts “How is this not political?” This is in and of itself a comment on the state of the current world. Entertainers aren’t meant to be “political” in this day and age, according to a certain segment of the population. If any person who happens to have a career in the arts makes a political statement, they are told to shut up and perform/write/whatever. When the police chief demands to know how this entire event, which will decide whether or not humanity is fit to sit at the adult table with the rest of the multiverse (and, you know, live), is “not political,” Valente is speaking for the masses of entertainers who have been told to shut up and write/sing/draw/perform, and insisting that they, too, should be allowed to be as political as they wish in their chosen art.

At it’s heart, it’s a relatively simple plot. A washed-up, former glam-rock superstar and his former band are recruited to save the world. Sounds like an easy story, right? Except, of course, for Valente’s secret weapon: distract the audience with the shiny, glittery, colorful haze of music and pageantry, and then sucker punch them right in the gut. Just when you think that you’ve learned all that there is to know about Decibel Jones, Oort St. Ultraviolet, and Mira Wonderful Star, Valente pulls the curtain back just a little further to reveal that yes, there was a terrifying reason behind a question that seemingly came from nowhere, and an ill-timed fit of nervous laughter can change your whole life for the worse. It’s hard not to spoil this particular revelation, near the novel’s end, but it’s such an important moment. I’ll leave it for you to find it yourself.

In Conclusion: I cannot recommend this book highly enough. It’s thoughtful, smart, snarky, and heartwarming, even with the aforementioned gut-punch sneak attack. I’m already reading it again. I have a feeling that I’ll be re-reading this book for years to come.