Description
Jane has lived her sixteen years under the shadows of her mother Demeta and her privilege. The world often overwhelms and confuses her, so
she welcomes others who tell her what and how to think and shape her life for her, even if she never seems to be anyone's priority and isn't
even sure she likes the circle of friends she runs with, many of whom are petty, selfish, and cruel in that way of the idle rich. Jane never
stops to ask what she wants for herself... until she sees the silver man on the theater steps - no, not a man, but a new line of robot by
preeminent manufacturer Electronic Metals. Unlike the clunky, more functional variety she's used to, many of which are little more than a
box with a screen, Silver walks and talks like a human, and can even play instruments and sing, as well as perform any other task a human
master might desire to make them happy. From the first time she sets eyes on Silver, Jane finds herself beset by feelings so strange and so
big she doesn't even know what they are. Is it fear? Is it hate? Or - God and the heavens help her - is it love? And is she merely projecting
when she sees similar emotions in his fox-bright mechanical eyes looking back at her?
She doesn't dare tell anyone what she feels, or thinks she feels. But she cannot shake the notion that, despite everything she knows about
robots, there's something more to this one. Even if she is right, though, this is a love seemingly doomed before it starts. Because Silver,
when all is said and done, is just property, a prototype exhibition piece far beyond even her generous allowance... and in a world where so
little is left to humans alone, so few jobs for the seething masses beneath the ivory towers of the wealthy that haven't already been
replaced, a robot that displays true creativity and perhaps even a soul - that is essentially indistinguishable from a person - may well be
one step too far.
Review
First published in 1981, the futuristic Gilded Age of the The Silver Metal Lover feels strangely fresh and relevant in a time when
"artificial intelligence" has damaged so many creative careers (though, unlike the robots in this book, AI has nothing like self-awareness
or independent creativity); for all that the masses rallying against yet another threat to the meager livelihoods and niches left to living
humans sometimes seem like fearful peasants, one can understand just why they're so desperate and feel so unheard by the wealthy and the
tech firms that keep pushing more and more of them over the brink into inescapable poverty. Lee also envisions a future that is casually
accepting of nonbinary individuals, though even in a society this tolerant, expressing amorous feelings for what most regard as a
jumped-up appliance counts as a step over the line of propriety.
Early on, Jane comes across as sheltered and spoiled, immature and weak-willed, and that is exactly what she is. Raised by a mother who
didn't really want an independent daughter with a mind of her own but some sort of living doll or status symbol - Demeta constantly
undermines her independence and confidence, and treats motherhood as a task that can be done more efficiently without all that pesky
sentiment or exhausting listening, even relying on prepared color and body type charts to arrange the "proper" hair style and nutrient
levels to produce Jane's optimal look - and surrounded by "friends" who largely seem incapable of caring for other people, not even
themselves in some cases, the deck is stacked against Jane in any way except wealth. She literally has grown up in a castle in the sky, a
lofty skyscraper among the clouds over the city, and has a habit of feeling the pains and emotions of those around her, possibly because she
has never really been allowed to have any feelings or even opinions of her own. When she sees the robot Silver, she doesn't even recognize
the emotion she's struck with, reacting like a small child whose feelings are too big to process: she lashes out verbally and runs away,
physically ill. Slowly, clumsily, she begins to parse those big feelings, and in the process begins to grow up and think on her own. It's
not easy or simple for her, though, when she has had virtually no healthy, mature role models in her life. And even when she does name the
thing she's feeling, how can she possibly hope that those feelings can be reciprocated by a machine? Silver, for his part, tells her this
more than once... but he is kind and patient, and it eventually becomes apparent that, yes, there is something a little more to him than his
makers envisioned (hardly a spoiler - I mean, can you really read the Description and not think that'll be a plot point?). He does some
growing and changing and self-discovery, too, so the relationship eventually becomes less lopsided than it starts. Jane sacrifices a lot in
the name of love... though much of what she gives up, she soon realizes had no true worth to her at all, as she starts seeing her life and
her world with new eyes. The life she rebuilds on her own has the feel of a waking dream, something so beautiful and perfect that it cannot
seem destined to last.
My feelings on the book wavered throughout. At first, the immature heroine was a little offputting, as were her companions, the friends and
distant mother, who kept her so childish she couldn't even recognize her first brush with love. Once it dug into the complicated relationship
between Jane and Silver, though, the story strengthened. Neither Jane nor Silver forget that he is technically a piece of hardware, yet both
are somewhat aware from the start that their bond is atypical, and both are changed significantly. Both also are clear-eyed enough to see
just why people, especially the ever-increasing numbers of the poor, view tech like Silver as a very real threat, though the truest danger to
their bond comes from elsewhere. Some bits at the end finally knocked a half-star back off the rating, as it ventures into metaphysical
territory and also starts seeming stretched out. Other than that, though, it held up much better than many of its contemporaries.
