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A review by leaflibrary
The 34th Rule by David R. George III, Armin Shimerman
4.0
I've grown accustomed to the usual Star Trek formula that relegates Ferengi-led episodes to comedic efforts. DS9, of course, was always at the forefront of Ferengi representation, fleshing out its large-lobed characters and moving away (if only slightly) from TNG's bumbling, cartoonish capitalist villains. Still, it's a safe bet that in any given episode or book, featured Ferengi will serve as comic reief.
The 34th Rule is a stark exception. Despite starring familiar Ferengi (and even being written by the most famous Ferengi actor!), the tone of this book is anything but light. Instead, it's one that follows the extremes of our favorite characters and cultures to their logical conclusion, and no one comes out looking good.
Grand Nagus Zek has acquired Bajor's Orb of Wisdom, and he's auctioning it off to the highest bidder. Unfortunately for the Bajorans, that doesn't include them. Tensions escalate and a cold war erupts. Soon any remaining Ferengi on Bajor - or it's space station - will be striped of their business licenses and shipped to labor camps around the planet. It's up to the crew of Deep Space Nine to solve the stand-off and restore peace to Bajor.
The plot sounds simple, and it ties up neatly, but along the way we're treated to a jarring misadventure: the dark underbelly of our comfortable DS9 routine. Suddenly themes we've been taught to casually laugh off over the course of the series come to dangerous (if realistic) conclusions. Ferengi greed warps into something that could start wars and deprive spiritual people of gifts from their gods. War-ravaged Bajor becomes so obsessed with reclaiming its stolen identity that it mimics the very oppressors who destroyed it. Disdain for Ferengi culture, commonplace among our main cast, allows atrocities to occur with little concern elicited. It implicates favorite characters like Odo, Kira, O'Brien, Sisko, but also ourselves as audience, blindly laughing along.
No where is this seen better than at the newly-created Ferengi internment camps. I'm a big fan of the Bajorans, and disliked seeing them on the defensive. I especially balked at the idea that they would reopen Gallitep, the most notorious labor camp of the Cardassian Occupation, and imprison another species there just years after escaping it themselves. It was also upsetting to shift from Quark and Rom, the rascally and unwitting comic relief, to Quark and Rom, the tortured death camp prisoners. I know that was the point - that they hadn't done anything wrong, and were merely being rounded up because of their race - but it was painful to read.
Perhaps the worst part, however, was the incredible fact that no one on Deep Space Nine ever bothered to follow up on what happened with the Ferengi. It's not clear whether they realized the brothers (among others) were imprisoned on Bajor, but regardless they never seemed saddened or concerned by the duo's forced absence from DS9. This, of course, is the crux of the book. That even in Utopian Starfleet, even on this progressive space station at the edge of the galaxy, a hierarchy exists, and much of it is built on race. Ferengi are the low men on the totem pole, the punch lines and punching bags, the nuisances we need around to create comic relief. We don't want to think it's racism when Odo or Kira or even Sisko dismisses Quark's concerns, but the book makes it clear it's exactly that.
In the end, of course, everything comes out alright. The world is reset. And maybe that's the most disturbing part of all. We know that next time Quark complains or Rom takes a prat fall, the crew of DS9 will laugh or roll their eyes. And we will too.
The 34th Rule is a stark exception. Despite starring familiar Ferengi (and even being written by the most famous Ferengi actor!), the tone of this book is anything but light. Instead, it's one that follows the extremes of our favorite characters and cultures to their logical conclusion, and no one comes out looking good.
Grand Nagus Zek has acquired Bajor's Orb of Wisdom, and he's auctioning it off to the highest bidder. Unfortunately for the Bajorans, that doesn't include them. Tensions escalate and a cold war erupts. Soon any remaining Ferengi on Bajor - or it's space station - will be striped of their business licenses and shipped to labor camps around the planet. It's up to the crew of Deep Space Nine to solve the stand-off and restore peace to Bajor.
The plot sounds simple, and it ties up neatly, but along the way we're treated to a jarring misadventure: the dark underbelly of our comfortable DS9 routine. Suddenly themes we've been taught to casually laugh off over the course of the series come to dangerous (if realistic) conclusions. Ferengi greed warps into something that could start wars and deprive spiritual people of gifts from their gods. War-ravaged Bajor becomes so obsessed with reclaiming its stolen identity that it mimics the very oppressors who destroyed it. Disdain for Ferengi culture, commonplace among our main cast, allows atrocities to occur with little concern elicited. It implicates favorite characters like Odo, Kira, O'Brien, Sisko, but also ourselves as audience, blindly laughing along.
No where is this seen better than at the newly-created Ferengi internment camps. I'm a big fan of the Bajorans, and disliked seeing them on the defensive. I especially balked at the idea that they would reopen Gallitep, the most notorious labor camp of the Cardassian Occupation, and imprison another species there just years after escaping it themselves. It was also upsetting to shift from Quark and Rom, the rascally and unwitting comic relief, to Quark and Rom, the tortured death camp prisoners. I know that was the point - that they hadn't done anything wrong, and were merely being rounded up because of their race - but it was painful to read.
Perhaps the worst part, however, was the incredible fact that no one on Deep Space Nine ever bothered to follow up on what happened with the Ferengi. It's not clear whether they realized the brothers (among others) were imprisoned on Bajor, but regardless they never seemed saddened or concerned by the duo's forced absence from DS9. This, of course, is the crux of the book. That even in Utopian Starfleet, even on this progressive space station at the edge of the galaxy, a hierarchy exists, and much of it is built on race. Ferengi are the low men on the totem pole, the punch lines and punching bags, the nuisances we need around to create comic relief. We don't want to think it's racism when Odo or Kira or even Sisko dismisses Quark's concerns, but the book makes it clear it's exactly that.
In the end, of course, everything comes out alright. The world is reset. And maybe that's the most disturbing part of all. We know that next time Quark complains or Rom takes a prat fall, the crew of DS9 will laugh or roll their eyes. And we will too.