Reviews of two new books.   The Burning City by Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle (Pocket Books, 486 pages, $24.95) BURNED OUT Maybe I'm reading waaay too much into this for a science-fiction novel, but the latest offering from Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle reads suspiciously like an allegory of urban violence in South Central Los Angeles. The Burning City is ostensibly set in an imaginary metropolis 12,000 years before Christ, but consider the parallels: Children are tattooed and recruited into youth gangs before they reach their teens; women give birth to multiple offspring by several different fathers; men, when they don't abandon their families altogether for a life of drinking and crime, physically abuse their children; and every few years the populace is seized by an uncontrollable urge to burn down vast portions of the city (which is rebuilt from redwoods that grow just outside of town). The authors' prescription for this urban chaos is as doofy as one might expect from two middle-aged white guys from the L.A. 'burbs (Niven lives in Tarzana, Pournelle in Studio City): The young hero must pull himself up by his bootstraps and, with the help of a nurturing male, lead his people to find "a better way." (So that's what the working poor of South Central L.A. need: a greater sense of personal initiative and a few good Big Brother programs!) This marginally racist drivel might provoke a good chuckle if it weren't for the fact that Niven and Pournelle, together and respectively, have previously authored some of the true classics of the sci-fi genre, including The Mote in God's Eye, Ringworld and King David's Spaceship. It's as if these guys wanted to cash in with a fantasy novel in the tradition of Robert Jordan or David Eddings but then decided to make it "about" something. Big mistake. (Matt Buckingham)   Short Program by Mitsuru Adachi (Viz Communications, 288 pages, $16.95)     THE SHY CHARACTER WINS The bulk of Japanese comics (or manga) to make it to these shores are of the hyper-kinetic, video-game tie-in variety targeted at adolescent boys--which is fine in itself, but it means that hundreds of manga titles aimed at girls (known as shojo) are being ignored. Many shojo comics feature everyday people in everyday situations and tend to lean towards soap opera, a more subdued alternative to the endless fighting of Dragonball Z. Short Program is a collection of shojo stories by Mitsuru Adachi, a male artist who has been working in the genre since 1970, and the nine black-and-white romances between its covers provide solid, escapist entertainment. Most of the stories end with long-separated lovers finally coming together, and in Adachi's ageless world (the crisp, delicate line work gives everyone the same youthful polish), the shy character always wins out. Only in "The Current State of Affairs" does fate seem to fail, simply because the hero has already found love in another (though he is vindicated to discover the girl he longed for in school actually wanted him all along). While in many hands similarly plotted stories could fall on the sugary side, Adachi's tales have a genuine sweetness that entices the reader to get in line with their unflinching romantic philosophy. In "Take Off," a sports fan discovers that the famous high-jumper who used to live down the street from him has been sending secret messages during her performances. I knew the situations were hokey, but I still rooted for these lost causes to get their heart's desires. Adachi downplays the sentiments in the dialogue and lets the art express the emotion with its soft tones, creating a warm reading experience that isn't restrained by age or gender and is as irresistibly infatuating as comic books can get. (Jamie S. Rich)   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Willamette Week | originally published April 12, 2000