(Another one from the backlog.)

A science fiction book, but the science fiction element is limited to one new technology: the ability to send people to the past (and later pick them up and bring them back again). We understand that this procedure is now relatively stable and is widely used by historians to study their favourite epochs. There is not much focus on this time travel thing otherwise, and no time is wasted on explaining how it works, which is good.

For the purpose of this book, though, only one trip is relevant: one person is sent back to medieval England. Things go wrong on both ends of the time machine. On the medieval side, Kivrin falls ill, loses track of the pickup spot, and then misses the pickup. On the modern side, the time machine technician notices that something looks odd about the “drop”, but falls ill before he can tell anybody what exactly looks wrong – and then his disease turns out to be part of an epidemic that makes it hard to get anything done in Oxford, least of all get a time machine fixed.

These two strands of the story continue side by side, quite independently, until they’re brought together again at the end. Meanwhile, both are filled with disease, confusion and a struggle to bring Kivrin back again.

In the medieval story Kivrin finds out that her preparations (language, manners, etc) weren’t sufficient to prepare her for the medieval times, and she struggles to survive in a world that’s harsher and more primitive than she imagined. She naturally feels dislocated and lost in an alien place. But she goes from observer to participant, comes to care about the people around her, and by the time the (inevitable and rather predictable) crisis arrives, she is right in the middle of it, together with the “locals”.

I cannot judge how accurate the historical detail is, but it was realistic enough for me, and quite interesting. One interesting angle was the closeness of death: crises (diseases or otherwise) are not fought but suffered through, with help from faith.

On the whole, this half of the story was not bad at all – perhaps because of the close focus on one character, and seeing an unknown world through her eyes. Because of this viewpoint, the medieval world we see is frustratingly limited (to one household and a small village around it) but then again that’s what it probably was like.

The modern story could almost have been written by a different writer. Instead of believable characters it is populated by cliched figures who are very obviously supposed to be funny, but are actually annoying from the first moment you meet them. Despite the epidemic their lives are filled with trivial worries which become really tedious. (Hearing an underling complain about the shortage of loo paper is only funny once or maybe twice.)

The characters also show a remarkable lack of emotion – even when a good friend dies, they barely seem to notice.

The plot here is simple, to the point of being simplistic – “will they get Kivrin back home?” – and hangs on a few ridiculous details which are repeated ad nauseam. Phone lines are overloaded because of the epidemic and a lot of time is spent trying to get hold of other people. Have these people forgotten answering machines (which surely existed in 1992 when the book was written)? Some high-level university admin has gone away and no one can get hold of him – and that holds up the action for days on end. Yet in the end this “mystery” is simply dropped with no explanation.

If the modern half of the book was removed or kept to a minimum, this book could have been a lot better. As it is, I am very puzzled about why it was awarded both the Hugo and Nebula awards. It’s not innovative in any way, and the storytelling doesn’t even do its routine premises justice, really. Still, the medieval half made a strong enough impression on me that I found the book worth reading.