The Clockwork Dynasty by Daniel H. Wilson (review)

Daniel Wilson’s publisher prefers to refer to his books as “techno-thrillers.” Author John Hodgman defines science fiction as works that “portrays an extreme but non-magical extrapolation of actual trends in society.”¹ Judged by that definition, Wilson’s writing classifies as science fiction. His publisher’s hesitation, however, is understandable. Too many people, both casual readers and literary scholars, look down their noses at science fiction as pure genre fiction, mere pulp.

Yet there is an animal known as “literary science fiction,” sometimes referred to as “hard science fiction.” Put simply, this is work that is better written, with more realistic and well-formed characters, and that is more ambitious in its exploration of important ideas. As critic Dan Livingston writes, “Instead of just exploding spaceships and smart-mouthed robots, they can contain wrenching emotions that look at what it actually means to be human.”² So-called serious writers who have at least tried their hand at the genre include Margaret Atwood, Aldous Huxley, and Cormac McCarthy. Yet it also includes authors who worked more squarely and regularly in science fiction, including Octavia Butler, Samuel R. Delany, Philip K. Dick, and Jack Vance.

Measured by Hodgman’s—or any other—definition, Wilson’s writing is science fiction, albeit, in this instance, a steampunk example. And by Livingston’s standard it is literary science fiction. Though not year forty, Wilson is, in fact, a master of the craft, exhibiting influences as diverse as Joseph Conrad to H. P. Lovecraft and Kurt Vonnegut. Best sellers Robopocalypse and Robogenesis grapple with the advance of technology and the implications for humanity in the face of it. Amped and Wilson’s novella The Nostalgist deal with progress in medical implants and prostheses, taking up Livingston’s fundamental question of what it actually means to be human. Wilson’s latest novel, The Clockwork Dynasty, forcefully raises the same issue. Unlike the first three novels by Wilson (a Cherokee Nation citizen), which were set in contemporary Oklahoma and had Native characters, The Clockwork Dynasty takes place in a very different time and place.

In 1725 a father and daughter flee across the Eurasian Steppe. Yet this couple is no ordinary parent and child. They are not biologically related. In fact, there is nothing biological about them at all. They are automatons taking flight from the Russian court after the death of Peter the Great. Peter is crafted in the image of the late tsar. His companion, Elena, is diminutive and childlike.

Automata are mechanical devices—simple robots—built to resemble human beings and programmed to perform repetitive, predetermined tasks, giving the illusion of being human. In Greek mythology, Hephaestus, the blacksmith of the gods, created them, and Daedalus used mercury to give these moving statues voices. According to Wilson, Albert of Cologne (known as Albertus Magnus), the great medieval philosopher and theologian, built an artificial man out of brass that could talk, but his student Thomas Aquinas destroyed it with a hammer “as an affront to God.” When told the story, one of the novel’s characters responds, “Good for him. . . . We are God’s creations. We cannot be replicated.”

This is the crux of it for Wilson. How many human attributes can a machine be given before it is “an affront to God,” before it violates the imago dei? Consider the following passage, an exchange between anthropologist June Stefanov and her translator concerning the “Old Believers,” a religious order that searches out automata:

“. . . They believe our bodies are mansions for our souls, and artifacts like these pose a valuable question.” . . .

“What question?” asks Oleg.

“If we built our own mansions, could God give them a soul?”

(10)

The question is a theological one: Can the deity ensoul inanimate objects created in our likeness?

Automata have a long history as creations for the amusement of royal courts. Wilson’s conceit is that they were created in an ancient time by persons lost to the memory of humanity. They can...