Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir

Published by Ballantine Books on May 4, 2021

I enjoyed the story told in Project Hail Mary. I would have enjoyed it more if not for sentences like “The force you feel in a centrifuge is inverse to the square of the radius.” Unfortunately, rules of science appear with exhausting regularity.

Andy Weir apparently decided he stumbled upon a successful formula with The Martian. In Project Hail Mary, he doubles down. Weir’s protagonist in The Martian famously decides to “science the shit out of” each problem he encounters. In Project Hail Mary, Weir’s protagonist scienced the shit out my patience. Weir rarely makes it through two pages before he finds some new principle of science that he absolutely must explain to the reader. Few of the principles do anything to advance the plot. Many of them are only marginally relevant to the story, meaning they could have been excised from the text without harming the plot, producing a much tighter story. Thanks to all the pauses to explain science, Project Hail Mary takes about 500 pages to tell a 200-page story.

Science lectures are not good science fiction. Explanations have their place, judiciously used. The reader needs to be served enough science to provide a context for what’s happening and why. But the science shouldn’t get in the way of moving the story forward. The giants who originated hard science fiction knew that. Isaac Asimov knew that. Arthur C. Clarke knew that. Robert Heinlein knew that. Most of their contemporaries knew that. Andy Weir doesn’t get it. Science lectures are not science fiction. Full stop.

Remove the incessant science lectures, including every sentence that follows “Hang on, let me do the math,” and what remains is a reasonably interesting plot. The sun is slowly dimming, a phenomenon that will lead to a new Ice Age in another few decades. The dimming is caused by an alien organism that the protagonist, Ryland Grace, dubs an astrophage. Grace discovers the organism after he’s drafted to join a science team that is focused on saving the Earth. Grace teaches junior high school science but he wrote a widely-ridiculed dissertation explaining that alien life forms might not require water to evolve or survive. He responded to the ridicule by abandoning his studies and taking a junior high teaching job, which makes him a bit of a weenie. We learn, if fact, that Grace is risk-averse to the point of cowardice. But he’s found the perfect job because lecturing a captive audience about science is what he does best.

The story begins with Grace waking up from a coma suffering from a selective memory loss. He doesn’t remember that he’s on a spaceship. He doesn’t know its mission. As time passes, he recovers his memories in linear fashion, from oldest to newest, which allows Weir to tell Grace’s backstory through Grace’s recovered memory while the story in the present moves forward. Weir offers a contrived explanation at the end for the memory loss and its slow recovery, although he doesn’t explain why the memories are so conveniently recovered in order from the earliest to the most recent.

Grace eventually figures out that he’s on his way to a star that stopped dimming. Great minds decided that the star might reveal an antidote to the astrophage. The odds that he can find the antidote are slim, which explains the novel’s title.

When Grace’s ship arrives in the right neighborhood, he encounters an alien who is on a similar mission. Grace calls the alien Rocky. This happy encounter gives Grace a fresh audience for his science lectures.

The story has a few credibility problems. Grace is a general-purpose scientist who seems to be adept at physics and math but is valued for his knowledge of cellular biology, which allows him to understand the workings of the mitochondria found within the astrophage. Since he wrote his doctoral thesis on a relevant subject, it makes sense that the project manager in charge of saving the Earth would consult him. But the decision to turn a junior high teacher into the manager’s personal science advisor — she even has him testing the glove that will be used to grasp small objects during extra-vehicular activity — seems unlikely. Her decision to draft him as an administrator when he has no particular management experience also struck me as implausible. Weir concocts a reason for turning him into an astronaut that depends on an unlikely coincidence. I’ll cut Weir some slack for all that because Grace is the protagonist and he needs to be immersed in all phases of the project for the story to work. However, science fiction is all about the willingness to suspend disbelief. Weir tested my capacity to do so.

The ease with which Grace and Rocky learn each other’s languages is impossible to believe. Words that signify numbers and computation are easy to translate, as is the periodic table if the two species both understand it. Nouns or verbs that can be demonstrated might be easy to approximate, but it isn’t easy to grasp abstract concepts like “pretty” and “friend” without a common language. Grace and Rocky manage to achieve complete fluency in weeks when linguists would need years.

And then there’s Rocky’s personality. He shares Grace’s sarcastic sense of humor. He shares Grace’s general attitude about most things. Considering that Rocky is an alien, there doesn’t seem to be much about him that’s alien. He’s like a mirror image of Grace, apart from his resemblance to a spider and his need to breathe ammonia.

Setting aside the novel’s flaws, the plot is engaging. Grace has an opportunity to grow by overcoming his cowardice and selfish nature. The ending is much better than I expected it to be. Whittle down the science lectures, keep the meaningful content, and this would be a decent novel. As it stands, Project Hail Mary too often made my eyes glaze over. Young science geeks who feel validated when novels reinforce their belief that “scientists are really smart” might view the book differently.

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Artemis by Andy Weir

Published by Crown on November 14, 2017

Artemis follows the same formula Andy Weir used in The Martian. Protagonist encounters a problem. Protagonist uses science to solve it. Protagonist encounters another problem. Protagonist uses science to solve it. The solution unwittingly creates an even bigger problem. Protagonist uses science to solve it. And so on. The formula worked in The Martian and, while the science lectures are a bit overdone in Artemis, the story is lively enough to be entertaining.

Jazz Bashara is a Saudi citizen, but she grew up in Artemis, a domed complex on the moon. She lives in low-rent housing deep underground. Jazz would like to get a job leading tourists on excursions outside the domes, but she can’t afford a decent spacesuit. In the meantime, she works as a porter, although she supplements her income with a bit of smuggling. Soon she has a chance to earn a larger supplement by engaging in a bit of industrial sabotage. That leads to troublesome encounters with a crime syndicate that, by the novel’s end, have resolved just a bit too neatly. But the point of the story is to solve problems with science, so the human issues will be secondary to many readers.

Science and engineering geeks will probably like Artemis because of the formula: identify the a problem, explain the science that underlies the problem, and then dream up a solution that is consistent with the science. I thought the explanations were generally interesting, even though I’m not a science or engineering geek (my own geekishness lies in different areas). If it bothers you to read that sort of thing, you probably don’t like science fiction, at least the kind of science fiction that makes science a plot element. Some science fiction writers overdo the technincal aspects of science, as if they expect their readers to have a doctorate in astrophysics, but Weir breaks down concepts into easily digestible morsels. There are, however, a whole lot of morsels, and some of the digressions get in the way of the plot's momentum.

Science fiction that offers imaginative engineering solutions to futuristic problems (like dissipating heat in a vacuum) runs the risk of making a plot secondary to the problem-solving. Weir’s The Martian succeeded by making problem-solving integral to the plot (an astronaut’s survival depended on using science to find ways to stay alive). He doesn’t do that quite as well in Artemis (much of the science is integral to the background but not essential to the plot). The novel creates a convincing sense of what it might be like to live on a moon colony, but it does that by explaining how this works and how that works, which overloads the story with exposition. But as I said, it’s interesting exposition.

The larger question is whether Weir tells a story that has value apart from the science lectures. I think he does. The story creates an engagin protagonist, a precocious and sexually active teenage girl (every male geek's fantasy) who manages to solve a lot of problems with science. Weir imbues Jazz with a sense of humor (or at least a sense of irony) and enough personality to make her likeable. Secondary characters have enough personality to make them credible, and the plot moves quickly enough when it isn't being interrupted by science lectures. I’m not sure the plot is entirely plausible (given what’s at stake, I think the criminals would have made a more forceful effort than a brainy teenager would be able to overcome), and the ending is a bit forced, but Artemis is entertaining as well as educational, so I’m recommending it to science fiction fans.

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The Martian by Andy Weir

Self-published digitially in 2011; published by Crown on February 11, 2014

The Martian is written in a lively voice that I can easily imagine belonging to a frustrated engineer. It isn't an eloquent voice but it isn't meant to be. Mark Watney has a right to feel frustrated as he narrates his story, having been (understandably) left for dead on the surface of Mars by a crew escaping from a hellacious sandstorm. The base in which the crew planned to live is intact but the communications dish Watney needs to contact Earth is destroyed in the storm. Another crew is scheduled to land (although far from his current location) in four years. Watney has enough food to survive for about a year. Seems like the poor guy should starve to death if he doesn't choose a more peaceful death by morphine, but Watney turns out to be a resourceful scientist who doesn't easily give up on life.

New characters are eventually introduced as the action shifts to Earth and to NASA, which eventually notices that the Rover left behind on Mars seems to have moved. The parts of the story that take place on Earth are surprisingly strong in their own way, and a sharp contrast to the individualistic story that Watney tells. Like the rest of the novel, the Earthbound story seems realistic, from the distress that people feel about Watney to the distress they feel at managing a public relations nightmare.

On one level, The Martian is a survival story, sort of an updated Robinson Crusoe on Mars without the monkey. But it's also a pure science fiction story, with a refreshing emphasis on science. There are no zombies here. At the same time, explaining the science doesn't bog down the story, as science-heavy sf too often does. This is fundamentally a story about people and crisis management. Andy Weir put an enormous amount of thought into The Martian, from commemorative stamps honoring Watney that need to be recalled to overtime funding for NASA scientists who work desperately to save his life.

The Martian strikes me as a novel that should have broad appeal. Fans of geek-speak who think science and technical innovation are the most important aspects of sf will find loads to enjoy. Readers who think sf needs to have human interest to differentiate it from a technical manual will find it here in plentiful supply. Readers who only want to spend time with likable characters will love Watney (he's a funny guy). Even readers who like action-filled plots should be happy. The action doesn't consist of battles with aliens using laser swords but the struggle for survival creates a fair amount of tension and keeps the story moving at a good pace. Readers who crave zombies will be disappointed but I suspect most sf fans will be as happy with The Martian as I was.

The Martian ends with a discussion of human nature. Humans can be truly awful to each other, but most of us have an instinctive desire to help one another, even to help complete strangers when lives are at risk, and to risk our own lives to do it. Through Mark Watney, Weir reminds us of our better natures. According to Watney, people who care about other human beings "massively outnumber" people who don't. I think that's probably true. It's a great reminder, movingly illustrated in an emotionally enriching story. I suspect The Martian is destined to be regarded as a classic work of sf. That's pretty remarkable for a book that was originally self-published.

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