Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Part Thirteen, Chapter Five - Genuine Imported Turkish Belly Dancers, Only $5,000 + S&H

Not much happens in this chapter other than Gris purchasing a sex slave.

Karagoz informs Gris that he has a visitor, who turns out to be none other than the nameless cab driver who failed to deliver his dancing girl.  Gris is ready to murder the insolent twerp, but Nameless Driver explains that the girl he picked up turned out to have "(bleep) and (bleep) both," making it very lucky that he sent her back to Istanbul.  Then he gets all conspiratorial, lowering his voice and looking around for eavesdroppers before revealing that he has a line on a real dancing girl for Gris' pleasure.

The Soviets, you see, are forcing the nomadic people of modern-day Turkmenistan onto collective farms, and some of the women - ethnically and culturally Turkish, since this is evidently very important - have decided to avoid a horrible fate on a Soviet commune by selling their bodies on the free market.  And some of these women, Nameless Driver goes on, are the "absolute cream of all Turkish dancers!"

"And they're also experts at . . . well . . . you know."

He came even closer.  "They're virgins because the tribal customs won't have it otherwise.  So there's no danger of you know what."

This may be the stupidest thing I've ever read.  From Mission Earth.  This week.  It's like suggesting that someone who has never held a wrench or gotten under a car is nevertheless a master mechanic.  And Gris, of course, is on the edge of his seat.

Nameless Driver explains how these virginal sex goddesses have to be smuggled across the Iron Curtain at considerable expense, but produces a photograph to keep Gris interested.  He falls in love at first sight of the girl's full lips, heart-shaped face, huge eyes, and shy expression.  Her name is Utanc, Turkish for "modesty" or "bashfulness."  Or "shame."  That one feels like it could be important.

An emotion very foreign to me welled up.  An absolute passion to protect her welled up in me.  I felt I should charge at once over the border, slay the whole Russian Army, cast myself at her feet and beg for just one smile.

Not that he intends to stop at just one smile, of course.  Gris eagerly hands over five thousand dollars American and an additional five hundred for transportation costs.  Nameless Driver gladly takes the money, assuring his customer of the wisdom of his purchase.

"You'd own her completely," whispered the driver.  "She would be your slave forever.  And saving her from the raping Russian troops would earn her gratitude to such a degree, she would never be able to thank you enough!"

So.  We've got non-evil sentiments awakening within Gris, unfamiliar feelings of protectiveness and chivalry towards a damsel in distress.  These are triggered by his purchase of said person to serve as his sex toy, regardless of her feelings on the matter.

Pretty twisted, Hubbard.  And as always the question is of intent - is Hubbard trying to convey just how sick a person Gris is, that the closest thing he can feel to love is triggered by greed and lust? Or, to be much more cynical and hostile towards the author, is this simply how Hubbard thinks relationships work?  Or does he assume that we'd find this sequence heartwarming or something?

I don't know.  I'm tired.  There's something exhausting about Mission Earth.  It's not that I'm shocked by what's going on - I've read worse stories, both in terms of writing ability and in the actions of the characters.  I've read books where the villains do some pretty villainous things.  But there were heroes to contrast with the villains, moments of goodness and respite from the bad stuff.

Mission Earth just has an all-pervading, constant emanation of evil from it.  We're stuck with Gris as our viewpoint character, and when he's not outright murdering people or throwing prostitutes into prison cells or giving away poisoned food or trying to get people killed with counterfeit money, he's kicking the boy servant or terrorizing his underlings or just plain being a douchebag.  It never ends.  Except for the bits with Heller, but those are problematic because he's so obnoxiously perfect and his wonderfulness is constantly shoved down our throats.  There's nobody to like, no one to root for, no one acting decent who isn't Hubbard's Marty Stu.

So this chapter?  Yes, it's badly written.  Yes, it's offensive (intentionally so, I think, as opposed to parts where Hubbard's sexism or racism ruins a scene).  And it's also pretty much par the course.  We've seen worse in the past - at least nobody died this time - and there's worse to come.  Eight books' worth, in fact.

Well, Nameless Driver, who totally isn't scamming Gris at all, assures him that Utanc will arrive in one week.  That night Gris dreams "beautiful dreams" with the girl's photograph on his pillow.  I'm grateful that he doesn't go into specifics.

At least in Battlefield Earth we didn't have to deal with Terl's sex drive.  Nope, he was a professional Stupid Hubbard Villain, concerned with gold and only gold.  No leering at the captive females, no on-screen shenanigans with Psychlo secretaries.  It takes a book like Mission Earth to make me miss Battlefield Earth.


Back to Chapter Four

1 comment:

  1. It seems to me like Gris might be Hubbard's wish fulfillment character. He seems powerless at first, but then he has money and power and people to do whatever he wants. And isn't that the point of a cult? Say, like, Scientology?

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