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| 0345339967
| 9780345339966
| 4.06
| 58,483
| 1986
| Oct 1987
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it was ok
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I simultaneously enjoyed and loathed reading Foundation and Earth. This might be the best Foundation novel yet also the worst. I know I called
Foun
I simultaneously enjoyed and loathed reading Foundation and Earth. This might be the best Foundation novel yet also the worst. I know I called
Foundation’s Edge
the best, but this one surpasses it in terms of plot. Asimov does as amazing a job of ratcheting up the tension surrounding the search for Earth as he does a terrible job of avoiding the objectification of women. Moreover, when we look at this novel in the context of the Foundation series and Asimov’s other works, it’s possible to read this as Asimov giving up on Foundation. Yeah, this review is going to be … interesting. Trigger warnings for this book, by the way: in addition to the massive amounts of Asimovian sexism/womanizing you would expect, add a hefty dose of highly inappropriate, medicalized portrayal of an intersex person, including the use of the h-slur. Foundation and Earth picks up exactly where Foundation’s Edge ended. It follows a classic quest structure: Golan Trevize has decided, somehow, that the planetary networked consciousness that is Gaia will one day be allowed to expand and form a galactic consciousness called Galaxia. But he isn’t happy with this decision; he doesn’t understand it. So he decides to take up, earnestly, the bogus quest for Earth that was his initial smokescreen in Foundation’s Edge. Janov Pelorat and his newfound Gaian lover, Bliss, accompany Trevize on what proves to be a dangerous expedition across the galaxy. This time, the search for Earth seems to have lesser stakes—no one really cares this time, except Trevize and maybe Pelorat in an academic way—yet it is all the more intense. It’s worth noting that both of these novels were written in the 1980s, thirty years after the original Foundation stories were written and published. Asimov’s writing has markedly improved over that time. I spent most of my review of Foundation and Empire criticizing Asimov’s writing style, criticism I think was fair and justified but which I can’t level against these books. Moreover, whereas the earlier stories were shorter and compiled into novel-sized books for retail purposes, these two stories were definitely conceived of and designed to be unified novels. As someone who has repeatedly stated her highly subjective and personal preference for that literary form, there’s no wonder I prefer these two books to the previous ones. So, there I was, enjoying this book thoroughly until I ran into a scene fairly early in the novel where Trevize seduces his way out of a situation. Ok, maybe it would be more accurate to say he allows himself to be seduced. However, you interpret it, the fact remains that Asimov’s writing skills have improved in every category except his portrayal of women:
If that didn’t make you throw up in your mouth a little bit like it did me: the next chapter begins with Trevize congratulating himself on being such a stud. Not only did he correctly surmised that the poor, sexually-repressed woman in a position of power “would want to be dominated,” but she goes on to call him “a king of sexuality.” This is the kind of stuff I expect to read in bad erotica. Moreover, aside from being bad writing, it’s just so incredibly exclusionary—there is little doubt for whom Asimov is writing here (straight, cis men)—while the rest of us just have to deal. That’s not the only example, of course—Asimov doesn’t seem capable of not objectifying women—just the most egregious that jumped out at me. I could go deeper into the gender dynamics aboard the Far Star, the way Bliss is portrayed as the nurturing and soft personality who naturally has to go out of her way to rescue a child (while Trevize casually advocates not just leaving the child behind to be killed but, later in the novel, genociding all Solarians because he “fears” them), the constant jokes or questions about the nature of Bliss’ relationship with the two other men on the ship. And then we have the intersex characters, Bander and Fallom. After the promising beginning of Bander interrupting Trevize to request that Trevize stop misgendering them, Asimov quickly dehumanizes these characters by using the pronoun “it” and dwelling most inappropriately, as he does with his female characters, on their various physical attributes. We’re supposed to excuse this as the curiosity and flawed biases of our main characters, but it’s still a gross portrayal of a marginalized identity. (I should acknowledge at this point as well that there’s additional conflation happening here of sex/gender: intersex is not the same as non-binary, agender, or bigender, which are all gender identities. Many intersex people use he/him or she/her pronouns. It’s complicated!) Indeed, this is perhaps the most striking thing for me, as a trans woman reading this book in 2020: Asimov, like so many other straight white dudes writing science fiction in the 20th century, has this brilliant imagination when it comes to a future humanity sprawled across the galaxy. He dreams up hyperspace, positronic robots, and mental telepathy; his books touch on the complexities of empire-building, linguistic drift, history versus mythology, and the Gaia theory of consciousness. Yet this same man is unable to wrap his imagination, in an empathetic way, around alternative presentations of sex and gender. And this is something that will never not boggle my mind about the so-called “great” and classic science fiction of the previous century. It seems to me that all science fiction must be queer simply because science fiction is about embracing and exploring the most amazing variety of possibilities for our future, and queerness is necessarily present among the varieties—unless it is deliberately excluded, as Asimov and others do by dint of a very limited worldview. Finally, there’s also a sense of fatigue in this book. This comes across most stridently in Trevize’s fixation with finding Earth, but it is also evident in the rushed denouement and Daneel’s Wizard of Oz reveal. I don’t have anything against Asimov wanting to unite his Foundation and Robot novels into a shared universe. Nevertheless, the way he does this across these two novels strikes me as an interesting bit of retconning of the original premise of the Foundation books. Trevize lampshades this when he questions the legitimacy of psychohistory as a science. I’m not sure if this represents Asimov trying to revise his views after over three decades of contemplating it—certainly an author should be allowed to change and evolve in their attitudes towards their earlier works and the ideas therein—or if Asimov is just kind of … done … with Foundation and wants, at this juncture, to move on from it once again. In any case, the ending to Foundation and Earth is rushed, perfunctory, and disappointing compared to the quest that led up to it. Two more books now to read, both prequels, one published posthumously! Will they be improvements? We will find out soon. Originally posted on Kara.Reviews, where you can easily browse all my reviews and subscribe to my newsletter. My review of the Foundation series: ← Foundation’s Edge [image] ...more |
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1
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Aug 11, 2020
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Aug 12, 2020
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Aug 11, 2020
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Mass Market Paperback
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| 1473619807
| 9781473619807
| 4.15
| 84,870
| Jul 29, 2014
| Aug 13, 2015
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liked it
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Well, this book lives up to its title: they definitely take the long way around. Although nominally space opera, if you were hoping for sweeping galac
Well, this book lives up to its title: they definitely take the long way around. Although nominally space opera, if you were hoping for sweeping galactic politics and high stakes, you might want to look elsewhere. The Wayfarer is in the middle of a tense diplomatic situation for sure, but this story isn’t about that. This story is about the Wayfarer crew, their journey rather than their destination, and the things you learn along the way. Becky Chambers hasn’t written space opera so much as space pop, and I’m cool with that. This is a difficult book to summarize, because the back cover makes it seem like Rosemary is the main character, but in actuality this is an ensemble cast. Chambers takes the time to ensure each of the crew receives at least some time in the spotlight. Rather than trying to introduce them all, let me just say that there is an eclectic mix of Humans and other aliens, each of whom has distinctive personality traits, some as a result of their species and some as a result of their personality. What’s interesting to me is how Chambers manages to make most of the characters fairly round. There are moments when you love each character as well as moments you dislike them, and that takes talent to do repeatedly. This crew lives and works primarily in space, and the story is more about their relationships than their mission to tunnel a wormhole from alien space back to familiar territory. Chambers explores the conflicts that arise from multiple species living in close quarters, the misunderstandings and the fun, as well as the stress that is possible when you are an unarmed vessel out in deep space. Though I would likely describe this book as a slow burn, there are moments of action and tension that kick the pace up into heart-pounding territory. I love the thoughtfulness Chambers has put into her species. Some people will no doubt fault the level of exposition in this book, and you know … cool. That is a legitmate critique here, and I’m not going to say you’re wrong. But I think that’s the case for a lot of science fiction (Charles Stross called), so this is more about whether or not you like or can tolerate infodumping. If you can, if you want to go on this fun ride through the gallery of alien biology, customs, and foods that Chambers has created, then you will have a good time. Another noticeable stylistic element is just the way that Chambers weaves humour throughout the book. This is particularly evident in the dialogue, which is rich with asides and moments that, in a tightly-paced 43 minute TV show or a novel that took itself too seriously, would be cut for time. This book revels in the idea of breathing room, the idea that there really isn’t any hurry to get on with the main plot. And while it is tempting to single out humour as the dominant emotion on display, I think that misrepresents the wealth of tones Chambers infuses into these scenes. There is plenty of humour, yes, but there is also anger and righteous fury; there is awkward bigotry and accidental insults; there is intense attraction and abiding love. The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet is one of those books where, if you like it, you like it for the reasons others dislike it. If you want direct, precision-plotting, this book is not for you. This is a book for people who religiously complete every side quest in a video game before daring to continue the main plot. If you want a book where you get to hang out with video game NPCs for a couple of hours—and oh yeah, galactic events are happening just outside the ship, but let’s not worry about those—then this is the book for you. Originally posted on Kara.Reviews, where you can easily browse all my reviews and subscribe to my newsletter. [image] ...more |
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1
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Dec 06, 2020
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Dec 08, 2020
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Jul 05, 2020
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Paperback
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| 0345308980
| 9780345308986
| 4.14
| 72,531
| Oct 28, 1982
| Nov 1983
|
liked it
|
This might be the best Foundation novel yet? Foundation’s Edge departs from the formula of the previous installments in the series: instead of related This might be the best Foundation novel yet? Foundation’s Edge departs from the formula of the previous installments in the series: instead of related novellas, this is an actual, honest-to-goodness novel. It follows two, parallel stories: Golan Trevize is a Foundation council member who suspects the Second Foundation was not actually destroyed, and he strikes off (not exactly of his own accord) to investigate; meanwhile, Stor Gendibal is a Second Foundation council member who believes there is a mysterious third force manipulating the Seldon Plan. Dun dun dun! This is a very political book compared to the previous ones. There isn’t a lot in terms of action here, few space battles or physical confrontations. Rather, there is a lot of intellectual sparring and trials (or the appearances thereof). At times, Asimov takes this to an extreme, and it can be very boring to watch two characters discussing everything like they’re in a first-year logic class. There’s a certain roundabout formalism to Asimov’s dialogue that permeates the entire book, regardless of character. Nevertheless, the conversations are some of the most fulfilling parts of the story. In particular, Trevize and Pelorat’s discussions while on their ship were really fascinating, because they add to the air of mystery: is there something out there, manipulating the First and possibly even Second Foundations? How is it connected to the murky origins (and location) of Earth/Gaia? In these respects, Asimov does a great job setting up a lot of questions that he mostly resolves by the end of the book. The final confrontation is indeed climactic: the strange equilibrium created by the mental superiority of the Second Foundation and the technological superiority of the First Foundation is clever. I'm less enthusiastic about the actual climax and the role that the Gaians force Trevize to play. It seems … ethically dubious at best. Of course, no review of Asimov’s work would be complete without pointing out his ongoing and shameless objectification of women. That’s on full display here (pun intended): of the few female characters on screen, none escapes without a comment about her potential attractiveness to men, whether it’s her hairstyle, her breasts, or her buttocks (yes, that’s what he says). Truly, I’m not sure how I would survive reading a Foundation novel without the constant commentary on women’s appearances! Foundation’s Edge is an interesting and simple story at its core: a mystery about what’s out there and potentially manipulating an already manipulative plan. Asimov surmises that after 500 years of slavishly following the Plan, the Foundation might be thinking they can do better and accelerate things towards an even earlier revival of the Galactic Empire. In this, he demonstrates again that he has excellent intuition for the ideas and fabric of science fiction stories; he can think big. However, if you’re looking for depth in your characters and their desires, you need to look elsewhere. This was a pleasant diversion on my deck in the sun, but whatever debt we owe to Asimov for furnishing us with many of the tropes of science fiction has by now been discharged. This is a classic, but as I have discovered through steadily re-reading this series, I’m not sure it holds up as anything more than that. My reviews of the Foundation series: ← Second Foundation | Foundation and Earth → ...more |
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1
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Jun 14, 2020
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Jun 17, 2020
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Jun 14, 2020
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Mass Market Paperback
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| 9798645362140
| 4.16
| 579
| Jun 16, 2020
| Jun 16, 2020
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liked it
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I had finally caught up on my NetGalley reading, so I went on the hunt for more books to request, and Aethon Books was kind enough to grant my request
I had finally caught up on my NetGalley reading, so I went on the hunt for more books to request, and Aethon Books was kind enough to grant my request for Black Sheep: A Space Opera Adventure. The description sounded very promising, and for the most part I would say that Rachel Aukes delivers on that promise. The protagonist is also disabled! Content note: the book contains ableist language, which I will discuss shortly in this review. “Throttle” Reyne is the captain of a colony ship out of the violent Trappist system. When the ship suffers a catastrophic failure, she and her small but plucky crew must abandon it to search for help. They find a derelict vessel that might be their answer—except, when they return to their original ship, they find that pirates have stolen it! Eventually, Throttle and her crew end up in the Ross system, which has previously been colonized by other Earth expeditions. They are at odds with the pirates who stole the colony ship, and they need to find a way to get the ship and the cryogenically-preserved colonists back before it's too late. I was pleased to encounter a disabled person as a protagonist! Specifically, Throttle has a childhood spinal injury resulting in paraplegia. To be clear: I am not disabled, so I’m not going to comment overly much on Aukes’ portrayal of Throttle’s disability. That being said, I have to question whether Aukes had any sensitivity readers for this book, because some of language used to refer to Throttle and her disability made me cringe. Almost at the very beginning of the book, Aukes refers to Throttle as “after spending much of her life confined to a wheelchair” (emphasis mine). I’m given to understand, in my learning about how to be less ableist, that many wheelchair users feel this language is harmful because their wheelchairs actually provide them with freedom and mobility they wouldn’t otherwise have. They are therefore confined/restricted without their wheelchairs. A bit later in the book, Aukes mentions: Throttle found herself as comfortable, if not more so, in zero g. There, her useless legs weren’t nearly as much of a detriment as they were in gravity. I’m sure there are more examples throughout the book, or even subtler things I’m not picking up on because I’m abled. Look, I get that you want to explain how your protagonist’s disability makes her more comfortable in zero g, because it obviously alleviates some of her mobility concerns. There are ways to do that, however, that don’t compound ableist portrayals of disabled people. And this is an excellent example of why we need (paid) sensitivity readers in publishing: this is careless use of language and therefore easily fixed. Aside from the word choice, I didn’t pick up on any hugely problematic aspects of Throttle’s portrayal (but, again, I’m not qualified to do a sensitivity read here). Ok, let’s move on from that and look at the rest of Black Sheep. Let me confess this book grabbed me more than I expected. I didn’t want to stop reading after I began it later one night, and I finished it the next day. I was into it! I like the snappy characterization, the way Aukes differentiates between their various personalities, and the way that each character gets a little more depth throughout the book. Certainly some of the tropes felt a little too worn—the computer with a heart of gold that just wants a friend, for example—but Aukes is skilled enough at making you not care about those clichés because you’re just having a good time. The plot is fairly sensible and keeps to a good clip. Aukes sets up realistic problems and her characters come up with realistic solutions, with a good amount of wrenches thrown into the works for dramatic effect. My only real quibble here is with the ending itself. Without going into spoilers, let’s just say that Aukes pulls one of those fake-outs where you think everyone is safe and then BAM, disaster strikes. I understand the desire to leave on a cliffhanger to get people reading the next book. Nevertheless, on a purely subjective level, I would have preferred a happy ending and for this … explosive event … to occur at the beginning of Book 2, to jolt me out of my seat. I also like the world into which Aukes throws us: for the first part of the book, Throttle and her crew from the Trappist-1 system believe theirs is the only one successfully colonized by Earth. So there’s a good element of mystery throughout, such as Rusty’s origins, and this doesn’t disappear once they reach the also-inhabited Ross system. Indeed, I love how Aukes answers a few of our questions but leaves more of them open for future books—or perhaps never to be answered at all (life isn’t fair)! The subtitle is a little on the nose, but what can I say? It’s true. Black Sheep is space opera, is adventure, is fun with pirates. Throttle is that sassy-yet-capable heroine in the style of Dutch from Killjoys, and she has a good crew around her. Will I read the next book? Definitely maybe. [image] ...more |
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1
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Jun 12, 2020
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Jun 13, 2020
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Jun 13, 2020
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Kindle Edition
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| B07P5WBBRX
| 4.32
| 239
| Feb 11, 2020
| Feb 11, 2020
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Yeah, so I try really hard not to DNF books I receive for free from NetGalley, because it doesn’t feel very fair. But it also doesn’t feel fair to for
Yeah, so I try really hard not to DNF books I receive for free from NetGalley, because it doesn’t feel very fair. But it also doesn’t feel fair to force myself to finish a book, because that will almost always result in a review it doesn’t really deserve. It’s my fault for being so lukewarm about the sequel after reading
Off Planet
; I probably should have listened to my gut and not accepted the second book. I don’t think Off Balance is all that bad. I think this is definitely a cause of book and reader incompatibility—exacerbated by me already being in a reading slump and really wanting comfort food, which this is not for me. So I’m going to explain what annoys me about this book, but just know that I don’t consider any of these universal flaws for every reader. First, the soulmate-ish destined romance thing never works for me. I understand that Erin tries her best to distance Amihanna and Lorne’s … condition … from the classic idea of soulmates. Nevertheless, you’ve got two people who don’t know each other experiencing an irresistible attraction that causes them to want to marry each other. We’re not talking chemistry or “love at first sight” or whatever (even though those are blah). The whole amnesia thing is weird, and while I think it’s great Lorne at least acknowledges that, at the end of the day, Amihanna is all glowy-glowy, and I can’t. I just can’t. Second, more generally, just not vibing with the whole “Aunare energy frequency” stuff (yeah, I said vibing). Again, there’s no reason this shouldn’t be a thing. It’s just not working for me. Finally, the characters are just … ugh. Is one-and-a-half dimensional a thing when it comes to characterization? Because they aren’t exactly flat, but they’re close to it. I just have a hard time getting attached to these characters. I don’t really like any of them. I’m not excited to spend time with them or play in this world. So … where does that leave us? Off Balance is probably a good sequel to Off Planet, but I’ve decided I’m not going to stay long enough to find out. I’ve let down this book, and I’m ok with that. There are plenty more for me to read! ...more |
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0
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not set
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not set
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Feb 11, 2020
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Kindle Edition
| ||||||||||||||||
| B07VFVRS3K
| 4.26
| 1,312
| Oct 15, 2019
| Oct 15, 2019
|
really liked it
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**spoiler alert** Time travel stories are tricky. The best ones give me a headache but not too much of a headache. I guess it’s the literary equivalen
**spoiler alert** Time travel stories are tricky. The best ones give me a headache but not too much of a headache. I guess it’s the literary equivalent of the adrenaline rush one gets from momentarily being upside down on a roller coaster (which is definitely not for me): I want my brain to hurt as I contemplate 4-, 11-, or 22-dimensional spacetime … but I don’t want to get so confused that I feel the author could basically just do anything. (This is why Doctor Who is often such a crapshoot depending on who is writing for it.) Fortunately, with The Quantum Garden, Derek Künsken returns with all of the magic from
The Quantum Magician
—and honestly, I think he outdoes himself this time! I received a copy of this for free from NetGalley and Solaris. Belisarius Arjona has succeeded in pulling off his biggest con yet. The results, however, are a little more dramatic than he might have wanted. He has precipitated a war between two large powers. He stole a pair of time gates. And as the book opens, he watches a warship from one of those powers exact retribution on him by destroying the home of his subspecies, Homo quantus. Now, if I were in his position, I would probably not deal with that loss very well. Belisarius has a … different idea. He has some wormholes that let him travel in time, so naturally … he just travels back in time two weeks and develops a gambit to save his people. It’s not quite that simple, of course, because it will also end up involving travelling forty years into the past, accidentally wiping out an entire species, shattering someone’s entire perception of themselves and their wife … need I go on? I’d forgotten how much humour these books have. I dove back into this universe and immediately started enjoying it, although to be honest, it wasn’t until Stills showed up that I truly started laughing out loud: “Yup. And I need a pilot.” I’d forgotten how Stills’ unapologetic vulgarity is an excellent chaser to the quantum mechanical technobabble from some of the other characters. The diversity of Künsken’s characterization remains top notch. Moreover, this particular exchange tickled me because it perfectly lampshades the absurd scope of some of Bel’s adventures without being too cutesy about it. It’s like how the main characters of Stargate SG-1 eventually start joking, around seasons 7 and 8, about how many times they’ve saved the planet: they’ve earned the ability to do that, both in the show and the show itself. The Quantum Garden is much the same. Some books will make a comment like this, and it will annoy me, because the book has done nothing to earn such grandiose comments. Künsken definitely has, with both the first book and now its sequel. Interestingly, as some of you may know, heists are my kryptonite as far as stories go … yet I actually preferred this book, which is less of a heist than the first one. It’s more straight-up espionage. But I think Künsken took everything that I liked about the first book and amplified it here, while having a tighter cast of characters and a less convoluted plot (and that is saying something, considering that we’re involving some knotty time travel here!). The time travel logic, while definitely timey-wimey, makes sense if you unpack it. I can see the thoughtfulness on display, the way Künsken was careful to set everything up to avoid paradoxes while still maintaining a sense of suspense. That’s not easy to do. Related to the time travel would be the Hortus quantus Bel encounters in the past, and their very unique mode of existence/propagation. Künsken demonstrates even more creativity than we encountered in the first book (which is saying something)—I love when authors push the boundaries of what we can conceive, when it comes to alien beings, and this species is quite something! It’s so easy for people to dismiss quantum mechanics as “weird,” simply because it is unintuitive owing to our three-dimensional bias. Yet if you push past that initial weirdness, you can explore and play with so many cool concepts and ideas. This is why I love reading posthuman SF like The Quantum Garden. Most of the main characters experience some good growth. In particular, I like how Cassandra has more opportunities to shine and come into her own. She has more responsibilities, and it galvanizes her into being a more decisive actor. She holds her own with Stills as they battle the Scarecrow, and it’s a sight to see! As far as the Scarecrow goes, this is a small area in which The Quantum Garden disappoints. We learn a lot more about his origins, which is fine, but as an antagonist goes he’s fairly unimpressive in this book. I’m hoping that changes in the next one. The story is exciting and entertaining all the way through: I literally only put this down to go to work after I started reading it on Tuesday morning, and I stayed up way too late trying to finish it that evening. It’s not for e everyone, but if this subgenre is what you enjoy, you are in for a treat. Künsken builds on what came before while setting up the tantalizing possibility of more stories, more adventures, more bright ideas. This is one of my top reads of 2019 for sure. My reviews of The Quantum Evolution: ← The Quantum Magician [image] ...more |
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1
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Oct 22, 2019
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Oct 24, 2019
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Oct 22, 2019
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Kindle Edition
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| 0399587640
| 9780399587641
| 4.12
| 494
| Jan 21, 2020
| Jan 21, 2020
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it was ok
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Turns out I remembered almost nothing of
Stars Uncharted
, the first book in this series (duology?). As I began Stars Beyond, very little of the ov
Turns out I remembered almost nothing of
Stars Uncharted
, the first book in this series (duology?). As I began Stars Beyond, very little of the overall story came back to me. I contemplated re-reading Stars Unchartd, but by that point I was 50 pages in and felt committed. Fortunately, as I forged onwards, the plot of this volume cohered into something pretty easy to follow. Or should I say … plots? Because, upon re-reading my review of the first book, it turns out my criticisms apply largely to this sequel: too many characters competing for too many goals. Stars Beyond picks up where the first book left off. Captain Roystan and his small but plucky crew are very close to unlocking the location of a treasure trove of transurides, rare elements much coveted across the galaxy. But they have enemies on their trail: corrupt agents of the Justice Department, a company executive who is unhappy his pet assassin botched the job, and people who want to talk to Nika Rik Terri, the hotshot body modder who has found herself pat of Roystan’s crew. From pretty much page one, everyone is up to something, in trouble, and moving. I will say this for S.K. Dunstall: they know how to keep the book going at a nice pace! Epic action sequences aside, time and again I came back to this problem: Stars Uncharted has no clear protagonist. Everyone wants something a little different, and while some people could be natural allies, the book flits between various groups such that I can’t tell exactly whom I should care about most. Alistair and Cam? Nika and Snow? Josune or Roystan? (Certainly not Wickmore, of course!) This is not Game of Thrones where we aren’t supposed to be cheering for any character, really. But is it possible for me to root for them all? Which brings me to my second issue: the ending feels very contrived. I’m not going to spoil it. I just want to say that everything comes together in such a nice, fitted way. Each of the candidates for protagonists mentioned above gets, if not exactly what they want, some kind of satisfaction. This is … boring. Dunstall throw numerous obstacles in the way of the main characters throughout the book—oh, we took Roystan out of the machine too early; oh, we don’t have the right genemod machine; oh, I can’t track down Nika Rik Teri—and so on. Yet these obstacles are small potatoes compared to the larger plot, which decides to resolve itself without much strenuous participation from any of the potential protagonists, it seems. At least with the first book, I had my criticisms but I could genuinely say I liked it. This book bored me more than I want to admit, given how much I know I enjoyed Dunstall’s first science fiction series. I wish I could praise this series equally as much. But the confoundingly boring cast of characters combined with the lack of support for the supposed high stakes of the plot just leaves me shaking my head. Originally posted on Kara.Reviews, where you can easily browse all my reviews and subscribe to my newsletter. [image] ...more |
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1
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Oct 27, 2020
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Oct 29, 2020
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Sep 22, 2019
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Paperback
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| 0575090634
| 9780575090637
| 3.80
| 3,290
| Jan 10, 2019
| Jan 10, 2019
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liked it
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I love fierce sister duos. You know, the kind where the two sisters have complementary skills and get on each other’s nerves yet always have the other
I love fierce sister duos. You know, the kind where the two sisters have complementary skills and get on each other’s nerves yet always have the other’s back? That kind. Yeah, Shadow Captain isn’t quite that kind of story. Adrana and (Ara)fura Ness have managed to dispatch the fearsome space pirate Bosa Sennen, taking her ship in the process. These young women are way out of their league, however, and now that they are in charge of the Revenger, as they’re calling their prize, everyone else is going to think they’re the pirates. Adrana, our narrator this time around, is still trying to recover from her torture at Bosa’s hands. Meanwhile, she is worried about what Fura had to do to rescue her, and the long-term effect that’s going to have on Fura’s mental health. The sisters try to put up a united front for everyone else, but as far as they’re concerned, they’re on shaky ground. Although a part of me yearns for that good ol’ sister duo ferocity, I will admit to enjoying the conflict Alastair Reynolds creates through the Ness sisters. With each of them on edge, for slightly different reasons, nothing ever quite feels right in this book. Moments of possible redemption turn on a dime into disappointment and bitterness—not through deliberate, over-the-top betrayal, per se, but more through the slow attrition of mistrust. This is a book about how small cracks in relationships and grow into wedges and fractures that threaten to shatter at the slightest pressure. Expanding this to the wider cast: no one here is really a friend. Some are friendly, like Prozor. Others are cagey, like Strambli. Whatever the case, the book reminds me of the crews of Serenity in Firefly or Moya in Farscape: joined together more out of common cause, or having no place else to go, than any real like of each other. Reynolds reminds us that this can work just as well when it comes to having characters work together towards a common goal. Shadow Captain feels slow to me, because the majority of the book is spent approaching and then tiptoeing around Strizzardly Wheel. I kept waiting for the “plot” to happen, by which I mean further developments in the sisters’ involvement with the overarching conspiracies afoot—the quoins, the mysteries of the Occupations, the aliens, etc. I never expected those matters to truly take over the foreground, but I kept waiting for more to happen than “we need to visit this station and oh look we’re running afoul of the criminal overlord of the week oh no.” I felt like most of this novel turned into one big sidequest in a space version of Bioshock. I continue to dig that overarching story. I’m really intrigued to see where Reynolds goes with all this (I have some ideas, but of course there’s still so much left up in the air right now). That’s his hope, of course: tease the reader with just enough to keep them reading into the next book, even if the rest of the story wasn’t as satisfying. I just hope that the next book presents a more dynamic plot, in which the Ness sisters have a little more agency than “get into trouble at Strizzardly.” I guess I come for the mystery and stay for the sister relationship. There are points in the book, when Adrana asks Paladin to keep something between them, when Adrana makes decisions or uncovers certain facts that Fura might have been obscuring … points when I was reading this, sipping a cup of tea, in my nice, hot bath, and it felt like Reynolds was really capturing the importance of that family dynamic. As sardonically critical as I am of the story here, this protagonist duo is probably one of the best I’ve seen in a while, purely on the ground of the depth of feeling beneath the tension in their relationship. It’s not something that can or even should be resolved easily, and I’m really happy that Shadow Captain goes in the direction of widening the gulf instead of closing it easily. My overall impression of this series may hinge on the next book (if it is indeed the concluding volume) and where it takes us…. My reviews of the Revenger series: ← Revenger [image] ...more |
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Sep 07, 2019
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Sep 09, 2019
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Sep 09, 2019
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Hardcover
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| 0553293362
| 9780553293364
| 4.25
| 152,392
| 1953
| Jun 2004
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Okay, so instead of five years passing between re-read books, I’ve only let a year elapse. That’s not too bad on the Ben Scale of Book Series Completi
Okay, so instead of five years passing between re-read books, I’ve only let a year elapse. That’s not too bad on the Ben Scale of Book Series Completion! My reception of Second Foundation is much more positive than my review of Foundation and Empire, in which I skewered Isaac Asimov’s writing style. Honestly, I found this book to be far more readable and even enjoyable at points! As with the previous book, this one is essentially two novellas. The first takes place five years after “The Mule” from Foundation and Empire. The Mule has consolidated his hold on the volume of space he wrested from the Foundation’s control, but he has delayed any further expansion. Instead he’s searching for the mysterious, shadowy Second Foundation. When the story starts, he is about to dispatch his two Top Men™ on one more expedition to locate the Second Foundation, who the Mule believes to be mentally manipulating his own manipulated men (try saying that 5 times fast) but weak in physical defences. What follows is a bit of a romp in which Asimov is extremely parsimonious with characters. Seriously, you could be forgiven for thinking he has some kind of novelist character budget going on here, because it’s almost as if Pritcher and Channis are alone on that big ol’ ship of theirs. The novel is basically a three-hander play acted out between Pritcher, Channis, and the Mule, with a few supporting characters in the form of subordinates and the Speaker characters from the Second Foundation (which, shockingly, does exist). Both novellas share in common the theme that the Second Foundation survives through subterfuge regarding its location. They don’t just exist in a secret location; they actively obfuscate and misdirect anyone searching for them. Asimov quite enjoys playing around with what “at the other end of the galaxy” could mean in various literal and metaphorical senses. But there is a bigger issue here, one which is addressed more explicitly and satisfactorily in the second novella. Basically, the Second Foundation’s leaders have clued into the fact that as long as people are aware of a Second Foundation, Seldon’s grand Plan is in serious jeopardy, Mule or no Mule. The Second Foundation is both bogeyman and guardian angel: “oh, no worries, the Second Foundation will step in and save us!” This faith distorts the actions of people on a grand enough scale to make the Plan’s probabilities and calculations useless. So the events of Second Foundation are part of an attempt by the eponymous organization to remove itself from the equation, so to speak. Of course, this all feeds into the overall series theme in which Asimov questions whether or not we could ever really control the fate of our species to such an extensive degree. I think it’s interesting that science fiction has examined this from so many angles. Foundation imagines a true beneficent conspiracy to manipulate humanity on the species level. Others take a more anarchic approach, imagining it virtually impossible that humanity won’t fragment off into clades and groups and sub-species. It seems like this latter perspective has gained in popularity since Asimov was writing in the middle of the twentieth century. Certainly, the future our species—regardless of whether it involves a galaxy-spanning stagnant empire—seems far less clear-cut than Foundation proposes. The best way to appreciate these books, I think, is to bring some New Historicism into the mix and look at the context in which they were written. The first couple of books make a big deal of atomic weapons, which were so new on the scene at the time Asimov was writing. Now we turn to an emphasis on the human mind, then (and only slightly less so now) a great mystery. Asimov really tries to capture the wonder involved in being able to record brain waves and use them to get a glimpse literally into how people might be thinking. In this respect, Second Foundation is definitely a great work of science fiction for the sheer level of imagination and questioning it introduces. Characters? Plot? Story? Eh. As with my previous reviews, these rereads are definitely not endearing me any more to Asimov as a writer. Though he includes a precocious 14-year-old girl as a protagonist this time out. So … yay? Anyway, Second Foundation allayed the minor dread I felt when I went into it, having re-read my review of Foundation and Empire. It’s a good pair of novellas and was a delightful way to spend an afternoon on my deck. My reviews of the Foundation series: ← Foundation and Empire | Foundation's Edge → [image] ...more |
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Aug 11, 2019
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Aug 12, 2019
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Aug 12, 2019
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Paperback
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| 1785655213
| 9781785655210
| 3.97
| 1,558
| Feb 19, 2019
| Feb 19, 2019
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A little over a year ago, I curtailed my review of Embers of War because of my broken elbow. I have now returned, stronger than ever, to review this s
A little over a year ago, I curtailed my review of Embers of War because of my broken elbow. I have now returned, stronger than ever, to review this sequel, Fleet of Knives. I finished this book in a single day, taking a break only to make dinner and watch Mean Girls (because it was October 3). This book is like candy to me. It is an invigorating space opera that balances grand, epic mysteries with smaller, more personal struggles. Gareth L. Powell’s plotting is measured and interesting, and his characters all carry their burdens with courage if not wisdom. No spoilers for this book, but spoilers for the first book. Fleet of Knives picks up soon after the first book finishes. The Marble Armada is parked in House of Reclamation space, negotiations and discussions ongoing. Ona Sedak rots in a prison, awaiting execution for her crimes—until a dramatic jailbreak leaves her in charge of the Armada, which has decided a killing spree of interstellar proportions is the only way to enforce peace. Meanwhile, Sal and her ship Trouble Dog take care of some spiritual business before they’re pulled back into Reclamation business: rescue the crew of the Lucy’s Ghost. Oh, and there might be monsters in hyperspace? Buckle up and strap in, my friends. I want to start with the characterization, because that is truly what keeps me interested in these books. Powell’s people are all flawed, yet fortunately they are not flawed in the same way. (This sentiment is explicitly shared by our favourit Druff, Nod, at some point in the book!) Sal and Alva, for example, are both very broken—but they don’t really get along, because their broken pieces grate against one another. They are both trying to heal too, which is another thing I love about these books. Sometimes authors like to show off how edgy and broken and grim their characters are, and they never let those characters move beyond that pain to heal and grow and move on. Much like Maggie in Storm of Locusts , Sal is healing and growing in Fleet of Knives. Of course, the universe has a few more knocks to give her. The evolution of Trouble Dog was perhaps more in the foreground in the first book, when she was evading her sisters and brothers and forced into battle against them. Yet she continues to grow here as well. A ship grown from the cloned cells of a dead human, Trouble Dog’s nascent emotional intelligence gets a workout as she must adopt some new crew members out of expediency—even as a current crew member doesn’t survive. By the way, Powell’s willingness to invest energy in building up a character only to kill them off not even really at the climax of the story? Love it. Don’t get me wrong—this isn’t some mad George R.R. Martin “kill all your darlings” situation. But I truly did not see that person’s death coming, and it was sad and beautiful in a bittersweet kind of way. Similarly, Powell deftly intertwines the two major plots: the Armada’s extreme solution to human conflict, and the rescue of the Lucy’s Ghost crew. I enjoyed the new tidbits we get about the ancient threat the Armada was designed to protect against, even if one of its primary means of doing so is … um … gross? Oh, and without going into spoilers—how did Chet figure out that the Druff and the white ships are cousins?? Like it’s a cool little bit of info to drop, but there’s no explanation for why the Druff aboard Lucy’s Ghost is the one who deduces this. (As always, scenes with Nod are a delight though.) My major grumble is mostly that Ona Sedak gets very little to do in this book. She basically sits around in the command centre of this incredibly powerful fleet, but she is still a prisoner. She serves at their whim. And whether or not she is morally on board with their plan, I wish she had exhibited a little more initiative in shaping their plan to her whims. Epic alien battle fleets are really only interesting as enemies when our side has ways of ferreting out their weaknesses (I realize Sedak isn’t on “our side,” but she also isn’t entirely on theirs). I hope the next book does just that. Still, Fleet of Knives is a lot of fun and has moments of genuine touching beauty—like when Johnny and Addison decide what they will do if they survive this situation. Even when Powell strives for a great moment and doesn’t quite get there, the result is still good. I literally could not put this book down, and that’s not praise I often utter. If you want good space opera with great, original characters and some cool ideas baked in, then this series is definitely for you. Originally posted on Kara.Reviews, where you can easily browse all my reviews and subscribe to my newsletter. [image] ...more |
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Oct 03, 2020
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Oct 03, 2020
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Jun 22, 2019
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Paperback
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| 0316555568
| 9780316555562
| 3.81
| 9,279
| Sep 15, 2016
| Feb 28, 2017
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Not exactly what I was expecting from Alastair Reynolds (though I should probably know better) but maybe what I needed. It has been a hot 5.5 years si
Not exactly what I was expecting from Alastair Reynolds (though I should probably know better) but maybe what I needed. It has been a hot 5.5 years since I read one of his books, and that is too long! I finished off the trilogy of main Revelation Space novels at the extreme tail-end of my enjoyment of high space opera. So it is fitting that, with Revenger, Reynolds introduces what might be a good compromise between my desire for magical science fantasy and my desire for more sensible science fiction. Revenger is basically space pirate opera. You could take the basic plot and turn it into a regular pirate novel set on the high seas if you really wanted to. Arafura (the narrator) and her sister Adrana are the heiresses to a family that is not so fortunate anymore. So they run away, intent on making back the money their father has squandered, by treasure hunting. Except it all goes horribly wrong. Adrana is kidnapped by Bosa Sennen, an infamous (space) pirate. Fura vows to retrieve Adrana at all costs, and she means at all costs. Basically, imagine Taken in space but instead of Liam Neeson it’s a 17-year-old girl who has no particular special skills and literally just the drive to do whatever it takes to get her sister back. As I implied in the introduction, Revenger appears, on the surface, to be a departure from much of Reynolds’ other work. Most of his other novels are what I call high space opera, which is adjacent to Singularity- or post-Singularity-style science fiction but doesn’t necessarily require AI. In contrast, this book feels more low tech: no superluminal spaceflight (at least among humans), and humanity, such as it is, seems confined to a single solar system (which might be ours, just in the far future). Humanity itself has spread across hundreds of thousands of “worlds” (not all of which are planets). It’s explicitly stated that humanity has survived multiple falls of civilization, each one called an “Occupation” and given a number. It’s treasures from previous, usually more advanced, Occupations that treasure hunters like Fura and Adrana’s crews are after. I say Revenger appears to be lower tech, because I’m not fully convinced it is. Reynolds is just the type of writer who has the skills not just to write believable high space opera but also conceal what he’s doing within low space opera. Because why not? While the main characters don’t have access to nanotechnology and other nearly-magical science fiction toys, it seems clear that previous civilizations did (the Ghosties, for one), and current alien species interacting with humanity might. The (possibly) true nature of the quoins, as revealed at the end of the book, also hints towards far greater technological treasures out there. So this story is, on one level, about rescue and revenge—but on another level it’s about opening humanity up to greater possibilities and rediscovering what might have been lost over the eons. I love a story with layers! The space pirate motif works far more for me than I could have predicted. Generally, not a huge fan of sailing and sailing metaphors. And indeed, the direct sailing references in this book did very little for me. Yet the overall atmosphere? I dig it. Reynolds has skilfully created a world with the right mix of people, people who exist in that liminal space between an organized outfit (which would be too hierarchical) and totally anarchic scavengers. These treasure hunters and pirates are the kinds of rogues that could logically exist in the frontier-type atmosphere that presently suffuses this civilization. Fura’s character development is really fascinating—but also a little uneven. What really fascinates me about it is how Reynolds quite intricately (because Fura narrates, so she is therefore quite unreliable) builds the case that Fura has always been a little bit broken. Like, if I had some kind of degree, I might think about diagnosing her as a borderline sociopath/psychopath? There’s something going on with her personality profile, anyway, and Adrana’s abduction is the last straw that finally causes her to tap into it. I would give examples, but I don’t really want to flag this review for spoilers. Suffice it to say, when I say that Fura will stop at nothing in her quest to rescue Adrana, I do literally mean that. Reynolds makes it quite clear that mere things like morality and ethics have no role in Fura’s new philosophy. And this is where Revenger falls down slightly for me. As much as I enjoyed the incredibly intimate seat to Fura’s antiheroic exploits, I’m less sold on her relationship with Adrana. The story starts so abruptly, and Fura basically tells us that Adrana has always been the adventurous, rebellious one, while she has always been the good one, like a girl group duo of some kind … and then they’re off. While they are on Rackamore’s ship, there is very little meaningful interaction between them to help establish their rapport. Mostly we see a little bit of sibling rivalry, and some supportive interactions as well. Overall, though, this is where I feel the book is most lacking: I just don’t feel the close bond between the Ness sisters that Reynolds seems to want me to feel. Similarly, I found some of the antagonists—particularly Qindar—a little bit flat and one-note. I bought Shadow Captain at the same time that I bought Revenger because both were on display at Chapters during a good sale event, and Reynolds has earned enough for me to buy two books in a series sight unseen. Fortunately, he continues this streak with this book, and I’ll read the sequel and report back soon. My reviews of the Revenger series: Shadow Captain → [image] ...more |
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Mar 14, 2019
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Mar 15, 2019
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Mar 14, 2019
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| 9781943858729
| 4.16
| 555
| Mar 19, 2019
| Mar 19, 2019
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Kind of space-opera, kind of not? Off Planet intrigues me because it’s kind of about interstellar war, or at least the tricksy politics that can lead
Kind of space-opera, kind of not? Off Planet intrigues me because it’s kind of about interstellar war, or at least the tricksy politics that can lead to an interstellar war, yet its main characters aren’t (with a few exceptions) soldiers or politicians. The protagonist is literally just trying to live her life, mind her own business, but others can’t have that. Aileen Erin crafts some fairly interesting and intense situations and brings a fair amount of creativity to the worlds she shows us here. Thanks to NetGalley and INscribe Digital for the eARC. Maité Martinez is half-human, half-Aunare. This is dangerous while she still lives on Earth, which is essentially ruled by a single corporation, SpaceTech. Back when Maité was a kid, SpaceTech massacred Aunare who lived on its planets, and “halfers” are not welcome. So she hides who she is, biding her time until she can get herself and her mother off this planet. But when people from her past show up looking for her, because she happens to be the daughter of the second-most powerful Aunare, Maité’s fragile little life falls apart. Exiled to Abaddon, SpaceTech’s gruelling mining labour camp, Maité barely survives while she and her allies try to figure out if there is any way she can escape that place that doesn’t mean interstellar war. Off Planet takes a little to get going. Even though Erin sets up the main conflict fairly early, the first act still feels somewhat long to me. Honestly, though? This is a rare instance where I’m comfortable saying you should hang in there: the climax is worth it, at least in my opinion. I was tearing up while Maité screamed, “Do it! Jump!” and was having flashbacks to Battlestar Galactica and Starbuck screaming, “WE’RE GOING THE WRONG WAY!” Chills down my spine, the moment was just so intense. So, well done there, Erin: you create a sense of urgency and tension as we wonder who, if anyone, will survive the final battle. While the book kind of ends on a cliffhanger, it resolves enough loose ends to leave me satisfied. I’m rather disappointed with the antagonists. We don’t actually meet too many of them. We briefly encounter Jason Murtagh in the most uncomfortable way, of course. Beyond that, all we really know about them comes from voices and proxies and what Maité’s friends tell us about them. They are the bad guys. They hate aliens/Aunare and just want to make war and money! It’s a fairly one-dimensional motivation, and while I find the idea of an interstellar corporate feudal hierarchy as compelling and believable as the next person living in the 21st century would … I need my villains to be a bit more fleshed out here. The same could be said for Maité’s allies, to be honest. There aren’t that many shades of grey here—we get a few characters, like Matthew and Carl, who seem fairly neutral. But it seems like most of the people we encounter are either in Murtagh’s pocket or totally on Maité’s side (and deduce, fairly quickly, her terribly-kept secret). Don’t get me wrong: I’m not complaining that she has so many people who want to help her. I just wish we could see more characters who are grappling with the tension between helping her and being punished, or characters who start off well-disposed to her but then betray her for some reason. People are complex, is what I’m saying. For the most part, though, the characters of Off Planet are not. Maité herself is probably a notable exception, thankfully. I like how Erin manages to endow Maité with sufficient agency despite her role as a pawn in this interstellar chess game. Maité displays an incredible amount of dignity and strength (though I’m annoyed by how often Declan and Lorne tell her this, and Declan sharing those videos without her consent crosses a line). Most importantly, I like that she is always looking for a solution instead of listening to those who are telling her to wait around until Declan or someone else can extract her. That’s my kind of protagonist! Off Planet had some highs and lows for me. I’d rather a book that’s up and down in quality, however, than something that is just aggressively mediocre—and I can safely say that Off Planet isn’t that. Will I read the next book? Definitely maybe. [image] ...more |
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Mar 04, 2019
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Mar 05, 2019
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Mar 04, 2019
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ebook
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| 0756415101
| 9780756415105
| 3.86
| 1,941
| Apr 02, 2019
| Apr 02, 2019
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liked it
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It’s fashionable among a certain throwback segment of science fiction fans to claim that the entrance of so many new women writers to the field has so
It’s fashionable among a certain throwback segment of science fiction fans to claim that the entrance of so many new women writers to the field has somehow diminished the quality of stories being published. This, despite the fact that women have always been writing in science fiction from its inception. But whatever—all I have to say is I don’t know what SF they’re reading, because much of the best SF I have read in recent years has consistently come from women. This is particularly true of space opera, a subgenre I’d largely given up hope on, until I discovered established titans like Bujold and Moon and newcomers like Dunstall. Finder isn’t technically space opera, I don’t think, but it has many space operatic elements to it. Suzanne Palmer continues to prove that not only are women not diminishing this genre; they are actively bringing fresh stories that make it more of a pleasure to keep reading. So there! The premise of Finder is incredibly simple, which is always a good sign: Fergus Ferguson (it’s a whole thing) is the eponymous finder. In this case, he has already found his object: a stolen spaceship. He’s going to have to steal it back on behalf of his clients, the rightful owners. But it’s in the hands of a particularly nasty piece of work, a warlord/gang leader who controls a part of a backwater solar system. Fergus inadvertently stumbles into the middle of cold war that he quickly ignites into a warm war—oops—and, oh, there are aliens involved too. Somehow. The charm of Finder lies in how Palmer takes this simple premise and blows it up into a system-wide civil war without somehow losing the reader in all the chaos. Fergus is a likeable rogue type, and Palmer manages to balance perspicacity with errors in judgment. He comes up with a clever plan, executes the plan … and it goes horribly wrong, so he has to improvise, and come up with another clever plan. This formula repeats for about 300 pages, and it works quite well. We never spend too much time in one place or on one subplot before Palmer redirects us into another new adventure. I wouldn’t exactly call Finder “cinematic” in the sense we often mean when we use that word, but there are screenplay-like elements to this story that for some reason I find quite appealing here. There’s also a good cast of minor characters who revolve around Fergus and offer alternatively comic relief, sidekick help, or sheer badassery. Fergus has a badass background, what with being a reluctant hero/rebel type on Mars, and a “particular set of skills,” but Palmer makes it clear he is more of a jack of all trades than a master of many. So he acquires various support characters throughout his quests, coalescing into a rag-tag crew for the final assault on the Big Bad. This is where Finder kind of falls down for me. The Big Bad doesn’t seem all that imposing or, crucially, interesting. He’s an upstart warlord exiled from his home system for not being the right kind of religiously wacky. He’s supposedly this Xanatos gambit genius of a villain who is always one step ahead of all the other leaders, and indeed, he packs a serious punch throughout this book. Yet as a character he remains a frustrating, off-page cipher for almost the entire book. We only ever really hear about him through others. I’m not trying to say he’s misunderstood, just that as far as villains go, he’s boring. I want a villain who is convinced he’s not the bad guy and is doing this all for “good reasons,” or I want a villain who, while irredeemably cruel, nevertheless chews the scenery with the best of ’em. This guy … is neither of those things. I’m also not on board with the alien subplot. It’s well-executed in terms of how Palmer integrates it with the rest of the story. It feels like a setup, though, for something that will run through the rest of the series. I guess I can see why that might be desirable, but as far as this one book goes, the reveal at the end regarding the aliens is frustratingly cryptic instead of charmingly cryptic. But that could just be me. Overall, I’d say that I found Finder to be an entertaining, almost captivating work of science fiction. It kept me interested in reading from page 1 to the end, which is not something I can say for every book, and I really did enjoy both the characters and the situations in which they found themselves. None of the elements of the plot are, individually, all that novel or fascinating. Nevertheless, Palmer crafts them together into a coherent story that serves its purpose well. I would maybe read a sequel and would definitely check out other stories Palmer offers up in the future. [image] ...more |
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Jul 22, 2019
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Jul 25, 2019
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Feb 21, 2019
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Hardcover
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| 1785655183
| 9781785655180
| 3.92
| 3,852
| Feb 20, 2018
| Feb 20, 2018
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This review will be shorter than usual because I broke my elbow and have one hand in a cast. Trouble Dog is a sentient warship that developed a conscie This review will be shorter than usual because I broke my elbow and have one hand in a cast. Trouble Dog is a sentient warship that developed a conscience after directly participating in a genocide that ended the last war between two human factions. Since then, she has joined up with the House of Reclamation, a kind of interstellar Red Cross, in an attempt to atone. The latest distress call she and her crew respond to, however, proves far more dangerous and political than it should be. Trouble Dog's captain, Sal Konstanz, must "let her off the leash" to fight her former ships-in-arms—ships that have retained their full complement of weapons. Meanwhile, not-so-secret agents from both sides are also present, looking to rescue a very specific passenger. Powell's particular style of space combat works for me. There's a good balance of fancy, exciting SF tech without dipping too far into space fantasy. He's picked a good overall level of technological development for the human "Generality" of this book. Combat relies on a combination of tactics and stealth along with superior firepower. By adjusting the slider on one when the other tilts too far in one side's favour, Powell keeps things fresh and suspenseful in a way that sustains interest. Similarly, the POV shifts proved welcome instead of distracting. These can be hit-or-miss for me, but they are effective here. Powell has a talent for knowing precisely when to switch up the perspective to leave me just dissatisfied enough to keep reading for more from that character. I didn't like all of the viewpoint characters equally, of course. Childe was far too whiny and, frankly, bad at his job. Shout-out to Nod, whose very alien narration might seem superfluous, even indulgent, on one level, but is interesting, to me, for its contrast. Unlike the other narrators, Nod isn't seeking redemption. This redemption arc that's so central to Embers of War, though, is lacklustre at best. Powell makes a big show out of everyone ending up at the House of Reclamation as having some reason they need that fresh start. Yet we don't see much growth from these characters over the course of the story. The exception might be Sal, who finds herself thrust into making military decisions that cost lives. Nevertheless, the thematic elements of this book are where it's weakest. Other than Trouble Dog making one lampshading quip about her ambivalence regarding their new ally's tactics, Powell declines to really dig into the significance of the story's endgame. I can only hope the next book does. Because whatever its faults, Embers of War leaves me wanting more. More of this universe, more of these characters, more intrigue … I just hope Powell raises the stakes for the next one. [image] ...more |
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Jun 10, 2019
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Jun 11, 2019
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Feb 17, 2019
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Paperback
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| 1534308377
| 9781534308374
| 4.57
| 23,054
| Oct 02, 2018
| Oct 02, 2018
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liked it
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Haha, so it seems like only yesterday I was talking about how Saga, Volume 8 was a refreshing respite from the dark, downer moments of his series. Oh b Haha, so it seems like only yesterday I was talking about how Saga, Volume 8 was a refreshing respite from the dark, downer moments of his series. Oh boy. I get it, those 1-star and 2-star reviews from people throwing up their hands in the air and saying, “I just can’t even with this anymore.” That is a legitimate point of view and valid criticism of this book. Saga, Volume 9 takes any of the good, happy feelings you got at the end of the last volume and tears them to shreds, lights those shreds on fire, then scatters the ashes of those shreds to the four corners of the globe. Then it cancels your Netflix subscription and steals your identity, using that to go on a crime spree. Just for good measure. I’m not quite at the point where I want to abandon this series or anything. At the end of the day, this is Vaughan and Staples’ show, and they can do what they want with the characters (and we are free to criticize them for it, of course). I’m definitely not happy with much of what happens in this volume, particularly the final twist at the end. But there are definitely some things I want to praise first. This instalment of the series underlines something that has been in the back of my mind for a while now: there isn’t really an endgame here. Marko and Alana have a chance to “escape” by essentially changing their identities. They reject this (which is fine), but this means that for the foreseeable future they will have to stay on the run for … forever. Their plight is not a simple conflict where the goal is to obtain something, or get somewhere. They have always been fighting to keep their family together, and usually that means running from people trying to hunt them down. That hasn’t changed, and it likely won’t change. Vaughan and Staples also explore parents’ duties of care to their children. Marko and Alana make a decision on Hazel’s behalf, while Sir Robot makes essentially the opposite decision on his child’s behalf; both sets of parents are trying to safeguard their children. I like this duality here, because it emphasizes that sometimes it’s hard to see what the “right” choice in any given situation might be. There is no manual for parenting, especially when one is an intergalactic fugitive. Those deaths tho…. I’m not against killing off characters, and this level of carnage is definitely consistent with Saga as a series. I guess what I’m saying is that you have every right to be upset by what happens here, but you should definitely not be surprised. That being said, I was surprised that Vaughan and Staples dispatch the new potential antagonist so quickly. I was hoping that she would be a more formidable foe. Instead she’s really just a vehicle to get The Will back in range of our intrepid protagonists. Overall, though, I think this is a case of my opinion of this volume being dependent largely on what happens next in the story. Volume 9 reminds us that every moment of contentment can turn to ashes in an instance, that everyone is fragile and susceptible to injury, even fatality, in the harsh universe of Saga. For such a punctured equilibrium to occur can only mean that something even bigger, something even more intense, is coming up next. If Vaughan and Staples can deliver when they return to this series, then this volume will be a good set-up. If the next volume lets me down, then this one will have felt a little like an empty promise. Stay tuned, I guess. My reviews of Saga: ← Volume 8 [image] ...more |
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Dec 24, 2018
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Dec 24, 2018
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Dec 24, 2018
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| 4.46
| 28,725
| Dec 27, 2017
| Dec 27, 2017
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Did … did good things just happen to our protagonists? Excuse me while I check if I’m actually reading Saga, Volume 8 and not some impostor. Because … Did … did good things just happen to our protagonists? Excuse me while I check if I’m actually reading Saga, Volume 8 and not some impostor. Because … because … GOOD THINGS HAPPENED, FOLX. I mean, yeah, shitty things happened too. Don’t get me wrong; there’s still conflict and loss here. But … good things! And Ghüs!! I missed Ghüs!! This volume opens with Alana and Prince Robot looking for medical help in … Abortion Town. Right away, I’m sinking back into what I love about Saga: this series pulls no punches. Light-years away in space and who knows how far in time, yet this story still comments on issues that are relevant today. Whether it’s control over one’s pregnant body or the medicalization of trans people, Saga isn’t afraid to address it in a way that’s natural and relevant within the context of the story. Fiona Staples’ art backs up Brian K. Vaughan’s writing in this way: we see such a diversity of shapes and forms and ways of being. The settings of Saga remind me in some ways of Farscape. Both series attempt to depict a universe far more fluid and alien than some science fiction would ask us to imagine. (Moreover, being a graphic novel series, Saga of course has more of “budget” to depict this vision than a television series could). We’re talking anthropomorphic owls and robots with TVs for heads, people, and it is glorious. Because when you have such a cosmopolitan view of the universe, the species and societies and problems within, your stories become infinitely richer and more complex. Just as the overall enmity between the Peacekeepers and Scarrans hung over the entirety of the Farscape part of the cosmos, so too does the enmity between Wreath and Landfall touch everything that happens here. And right in the middle of this epic story we find Alana, Marko, and Hazel. If I have any criticism of this volume, perhaps it’s simply that we don’t see comparatively much of these three. They are present and central to what’s happening, and there are some really good moments among them as they continue to process their familial loss. Yet, in some ways the story is happening to and around them. There’s a lot more going on between Petrichor and Prince Robot, or in the separate storylines of The Will and Ghüs/Prince Robot’s son. With that being said, compared to the sad, painful story I read in Volume 7 last year, this volume was … hopeful. Especially that ending. And I fucking love the new villain and the way in which she discovers Hazel’s existence. Basically, while Saga, Volume 8 in some ways feel like a breath between two story arcs, it’s a very necessary breath. It is probably a calm before the storm, and I am here for whatever Staples and Vaughan rain down on them next. My reviews of Saga: ← Volume 7 | Volume 9 → [image] ...more |
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Dec 23, 2018
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Dec 23, 2018
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Dec 23, 2018
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| 1781085706
| 9781781085707
| 4.01
| 4,612
| Oct 02, 2018
| Oct 02, 2018
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really liked it
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For a while now, I’ve been eschewing posthumanism. Walking on the wild side of nanotechnology was starting to get too much like science fantasy for my
For a while now, I’ve been eschewing posthumanism. Walking on the wild side of nanotechnology was starting to get too much like science fantasy for my tastes. The Quantum Magician is an exception that I’m happy I made: Derek Künsken’s story of a genetically engineered con artist is delightful, and it explores posthumanist ideas in a way that feels fresh. Although I wouldn’t say any of the characters (not even the protagonist) endeared themselves to me, the plot is enjoyable and thought-provoking. Full disclosure, I received this through NetGalley! Send me all ur free books. Belisarius Arjona, or “Bel” to his friends, is a Homo quantus. In this far future universe, humanity has tinkered with genetic engineering, producing such offshoots as the Numen (who created the reviled Puppets), the Tribe of the Mongrel (aka Homo eridanus), and Bel’s own subspecies. The Homo quantus have biological adaptations that help them sense not just magnetic fields but quantum states. Bel is capable of entering a fugue state where his consciousness decoheres, leaving an intellect of pure quantum computation. Bel has parted ways with the project that created him, and he lives on his own, pulling cons for organizations large and small to keep his brain occupied. When a military hires him to con their fleet through a wormhole junction, he has to assemble a rag-tag group of misfits to pull it off. Oh yeah, there’s a “getting the team together” part to this book, and it delivers. The Quantum Magician actually is rather formulaic when you look at it from a macro view. The thing about formula is that it’s good when it’s used the way Künsken uses it, i.e., to ground the reader in an otherwise unfamiliar setting. The same might be said for something like The Lies of Locke Lamora , wherein Lynch likewise exploits the familiar tropes of a con artist team in order to spin a much more fantastic yarn. That’s what’s happening here: strip away the fancy terminology, the genetic engineering, the AIs who think they are reincarnated saints … and you just have a con. You have a caper. It’s Ocean’s Eleven but in space in the far future and with wormholes and so, so much better as a result. I love the pacing in particular. The book builds and builds and builds, but it never feels like it’s running slow. Künsken never infodumps. Each chapter is a new scene, a new place, as we follow Bel on his travels to assemble his team, and each visit brings new ideas and new information to the forefront. It’s like a whistle-stop tour, and it hints at this big, rich universe beyond that we don’t get to explore as much as we might want. Leave them wanting more! Finally, after we have the team and the walkthrough and the twists and betrayals, there is an action-packed climax that actually got me worried for a moment about how the con would go. There are a lot of moving parts, and I’m impressed with how Künsken brings everything together. As I mentioned earlier, the handling of posthumanism is quite well done. Obviously there’s Bel himself. We meet another Homo quantus, old flame Cassandra, whose opinions of their genetic engineering are very different from Bel’s. This juxtaposition is really nice, and it lets us consider the pros and cons of what Bel and Cassandra are capable of doing. It also sets up a romance that is, in my opinion, quite well done because of its subtlety. It’s there, but it isn’t a big focus in the story. In addition to Bel, each member of the team embodies other posthuman qualities. Some, like Del Casal and Maria, might not be as obvious—they are closer to baseline human, but they live in a posthuman world and are used to interacting with posthumans. William’s conversion into a faux Numen, and his relationship with Gates-15 and the other Numen–obsessed Puppets, takes us down quite a chilling and disturbing rabbithole. Then we have Stills, the Homo eridanus, in whom Künsken explores how far from baseline human we can get and still be “human”. While we learn relatively little about the origins of these projects, who oversees them, etc., it’s clear that in this universe, humanity remains a dynamic, fractured, squabbling civilization that just happens to have some wormhole junctions nowadays. It’s fantastic. If, like me, you are a sucker for a good con story, you need to check out The Quantum Magician. It’s posthuman SF blended with con artistry, with fun characters, lots of swearing, and perfect pacing and action. My reviews of The Quantum Evolution: The Quantum Garden → [image] ...more |
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Sep 21, 2018
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Sep 25, 2018
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Sep 21, 2018
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Mass Market Paperback
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| 0807536253
| 9780807536254
| 3.92
| 1,579
| Sep 04, 2018
| Sep 04, 2018
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liked it
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It is with no small amount of regret that I announce I have never been mistaken for a fearsome space pirate. On the other hand, that’s probably for th
It is with no small amount of regret that I announce I have never been mistaken for a fearsome space pirate. On the other hand, that’s probably for the best. I’m not going to be sent to space army school like Ia Cōcha in Ignite the Stars. The result is an intense story from Maura Milan about divided loyalties and the necessity of questioning authority in the face of injustice. Ia is seventeen years old but is already infamous in the Olympus Commonwealth as a criminal, a rogue, a pirate—and a killer. Ia sees herself as a bit of a freedom fighter, thumbing the nose of the Commonwealth and standing up for the little people on the liminal spaces of the Commonwealth’s Fringe. When the Commonwealth finally captures Ia, they force her to attend their space force training academy, as a symbol of their strength: look, our worst enemy turns out to be a teenager we’re press-ganging into service! Meanwhile, the Commonwealth enjoys fostering resentment of refugees, particularly the Tawnies. Brinn is a Tawny (but she doesn’t like showing it) who has just started her first year at the academy. Guess who her roommate is…. Stellar worldbuilding (pun intended) from Milan here. With a dearth of exposition (albeit a reliance on typical tropes, like an evil federation/empire, etc.) she nevertheless unfolds an entire universe for us. It doesn’t take long to inhabit the Olympus Commonwealth and its political intrigue, even as we end up at a type of space Hogwarts complete with well-intentioned but mathematically befuddled space Dumbledore. Combine this with the odd couple pairing of rule-breaking Ia and rule-obsessed Brinn, and we have ourselves a recipe for a pretty good story. The friendships in this book are, for me, the best parts. Brinn and Ia’s comes to dominate, of course, and it’s fun watching it develop. When Brinn first meets Ia, she is understandably intimidated to the point of locking herself in their room’s bathroom for the first several nights. Eventually, the two come to an understanding—thanks to some blackmail—but it takes a long time for a hint of true friendship to develop. I appreciate that Milan doesn’t rush this, that for a while it seems like Ia is truly intent only on escape, no matter the price. Honourable mention, though, to Brinn and Angie’s relationship. When Milan first introduces Angie, I uncharitably assumed she was a stock antagonist—and a petty, unimportant one at that. Boy was I wrong! Angie’s character acquires more depth as the story continues, reminding us that, although it’s probably rarer than we’d like, people do change, grow, and learn. The way Brinn and Angie’s detente evolves into friendship is really nice to see. I haven’t mentioned Knives at all yet, and that’s on purpose. Honestly, I don’t mind Knives himself as a character. I get he has daddy issues. But I hate the implicit romantic tension between Knives and Ia—ugh, just so predictable; it does nothing for me. If it gets you going, great; you are welcome to it! Knives is just a specific case of a broader issue with Ignite the Stars, in my opinion: the characterization is uneven and sometimes quite unoriginal. Brilliant young flight instructor whose daddy is a top-ranking general, and they don’t see eye-to-eye? Yawn. Bigotry against a particular ethnicity while at a military academy? Also seen that. And, on a related note, I could have done with a bit more exposition when it comes to the Tawnies. They seem to be a sub-species, offshoot, or genetic variant of humanity? Because their differences aren’t just cosmetic, since they have enhanced cognitive capabilities. Huge kudos to Milan, though, for the reveal regarding the Tawnies and how the Big Bad was using them towards the end there … no spoilers, but I was literally thinking that such a thing made the most logical sense, in this universe, given what they were trying to accomplish. So I’m really happy that Milan agreed with me on that point and lifted the curtain enough to give us a glimpse of that. Other points of confusion: how do ships get around? We hear a lot of talk of “gates”, which I assume are wormhole/hyperspace contraptions, but it’s never clear to me if these gates exist only in-atmosphere or if some are spaceborne. There’s a lot of references to “planes”, which implies sub-orbital capability only to me, so I’m not sure if this universe actually has any true spaceships—or are “planes” capable of both atmospheric and spaceflight? Questions, questions…. I think I’m a little disappointed because I just really wanted there to be more to this story. Ia herself is an interesting protagonist. But we know so little about her backstory, beyond the general idea that she’s a crusader for justice against the big bad evil space empire. The same goes for the other characters. Milan assembles these tropes into a serviceable narrative, and I like the theme, and I certainly enjoyed reading the book and gobbling up the action scenes … but nothing jumped out at me that felt particularly fresh. I like my stories to surprise me once in a while, and so while Ignite the Stars has a lot of fuel, it never really caught fire for me. [image] ...more |
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Oct 23, 2018
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Oct 24, 2018
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Sep 02, 2018
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Hardcover
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| 067165604X
| 9780671656041
| 3.79
| 14,102
| Dec 01, 1986
| Dec 15, 1986
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liked it
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An interesting departure from Miles’ arc in the Vorkosigan universe, Ethan of Athos takes us to the outskirts of Lois McMaster Bujold’s fantastic futu
An interesting departure from Miles’ arc in the Vorkosigan universe, Ethan of Athos takes us to the outskirts of Lois McMaster Bujold’s fantastic future vision of a far-flung, loosely-connected group of human societies in space. The eponymous protagonist comes from a planet colonist by an extreme religious group comprising only men; they reproduce through artificial wombs, and Ethan is one of their reproduction specialists. With this set-up, Bujold not only reverses the “planet of a single gender” trope, she also gets to examine attitudes and ideas that are almost definitely not her own in a compassionate way. Ethan of Athos starts, and nominally ends, on Athos, but the main action takes place on a space station. Ethan must get to the bottom of a missing shipment of new cell lines for Athos’ reproductive centres. Without them, it will become increasingly difficult to create new (male) children. But Ethan has never been off-planet. Thanks to the censorship regime on Athos, he hasn’t even seen a woman before, let alone met one. Now suddenly he is being pursued by Cetagandan special ops folks, and it seems like his only ally is a female mercenary (and agent of one Miles Naismith, eh). Many science fiction stories that posit a single-gender planet focus on the idea that women might somehow “get rid of” men. In this book, Bujold does the opposite. She creates a society entirely devoid of women; indeed, owing to the planet’s religious views, any depictions of women from offworld are censored. The only interaction Athos has with the rest of human society comes in the form of an annual census ship that brings the occasional (male) immigrants and any deliveries Athos purchased the previous year. On Athos, men work to earn points towards being able to conceive a child at a reproduction centre. If they have a relationship with another man, that person might be the “designated alternate” parent of the child, but these arrangements tend to be flexible. Bujold hasn’t just imagined a world without women; she has constructed this entire alternative society, and it’s really interesting how she portrays Ethan in this fish-out-of-water experience as he leaves Athos behind on his adventure. He begins with a bit of a country bumpkin feel to him, yet as the story levels out, he acquires more savvy and guile. I didn’t expect to like this as much as I did! I wasn’t at all hooked by the premise. But once the action starts up, and we start exploring the station and dodging Cetagandan shenanigans, it’s very entertaining. As usual, Bujold melds the realism of life in space—resource management is key on a space station, beyond even security—with the fantasy of this imperialist, political thriller backdrop of galactic society: noble houses and assassins-for-hire and genetic mutants. There is a much bigger story happening here, yet Bujold carefully folds it all into Ethan’s personal priority of protecting Athos’ interests. While this naturally circumscribes the extent to which we learn about the Cetagandans’ nefarious plots, it also keeps the overall story quite tightly focused. Absent an entire Vorkosigan saga cinematic universe (which I would welcome wholeheartedly, let me tell you), this book could easily be adapted into a standalone science fiction thriller: it has all the right set-pieces, and honestly, would have been right at home with the slightly hokey yet oh-so-ambitious late 1980s, early 1990s flicks like Total Recall. If you look specifically for Miles Vorkosigan’s signature wit or Vorkosigan-adjacent shenanigans, this book might disappoint you. If you cast aside those expectations and enter consider this just another excellent science fiction story from a master storyteller in the genre, then Ethan of Athos is enjoyable and well worth your time. [image] ...more |
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Aug 05, 2018
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Aug 07, 2018
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Aug 05, 2018
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Mass Market Paperback
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| 0765398648
| 9780765398642
| 3.83
| 651
| Jun 26, 2018
| Jun 26, 2018
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liked it
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Space … the final frontier. Our mission … to boldly go … and steal aliens’ shit…. Gate Crashers is a fun romp, as you might say. Patrick S. Tomlinson
Space … the final frontier. Our mission … to boldly go … and steal aliens’ shit…. Gate Crashers is a fun romp, as you might say. Patrick S. Tomlinson writes characters with a combination of humility and hilarity, people who might seem a little larger than life but still all-too-human. This is the Brooklyn Nine-Nine of space opera comedies. The human exploration vessel Magellan suspends its thirty light-year voyage when it encounters a mysterious device of alien origin. As its crew tries to unlock its secrets, they remain in instantaneous contact with people back on Earth—people who weren’t even born when they set out. Meanwhile, members of the coalition of alien species who left that device out there have noticed its absence and the human spaceship. And that might not be so good for humanity. But if you were expecting a dramatic, high-stakes thriller, you might need to re-calibrate. There are high stakes here, up to and including the survival of humanity—but there is also a lot of humour. Tomlinson explicitly acknowledges the influence of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy in his acknowledgements, and that’s very clear. I was also reminded a lot of John Scalzi’s writing, where the stakes are quite high, but the interactions among humans and aliens are also a little silly. If you’re a fan of some of Scalzi’s SF, you would probably enjoy the dynamic here in Gate Crashers. The main plot takes a while to get started, in my opinion. It’s a while before the humans actually get to confront the aliens, and while there are some good moments beforehand as the tension builds, the book gets really good once the humans are in the thick of an intergalactic power gambit. There’s a great mixture of types of people on the human crew. From the over-the-top womanizer with a tactical mind to the female captain with a lot of gumption to the physicist-turned-hyperspace-tech from Luna with no practical experience, there is plenty of disagreement and reluctant compromises. This keeps things interesting even as we learn about the alien species humanity has come into contact/conflict with. Sometimes Tomlinson’s exposition is too infodumpy for my tastes. In this he emulates Adams quite a bit, but where Adams writes with years of experience parodying bureaucracy in British sketch and television comedy, Tomlinson brings a history of stand-up to the table. This results in a slightly different style and tone, and that is by no means bad, but it doesn’t appeal to me quite as much. Or maybe it’s just that, after years of read and re-reading The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy so much my Trilogy in Four Parts omnibus’ dog ears have dog ears, nothing is as good as the original flavour. (I wholeheartedly agree with Tomlinson’s dismal opinion of the “sixth” book, may we never speak of it again.) So I could do less with the descriptions of the Lividites’ emotional shortcomings and pharmacological solutions. Less with the discussions of the AESA administrator’s political misgivings. Still, these digressions aside, Gate Crashers is a remarkably straightforward and enjoyable story. The antagonists have clear motives beyond “humans must die”. The humans have a diverse range of viewpoints, from xenophobia to territorialism to curiosity and a spirit of exploration. The resolution to the plot is a little rushed, but on the whole, it’s an exciting enough book that I stayed up way past my bedtime to finish it. So if you want science fiction that is funny, and original, then you can’t really go wrong with this. [image] ...more |
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Aug 03, 2018
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Aug 04, 2018
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May 31, 2018
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| 1472115074
| 9781472115072
| 3.52
| 12,239
| Apr 10, 2018
| Oct 04, 2018
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I stuck it out for 50 pages or so but was pretty sure 10 pages in that Space Opera isn’t for me. Surprised? Me too. This has everything I usually like I stuck it out for 50 pages or so but was pretty sure 10 pages in that Space Opera isn’t for me. Surprised? Me too. This has everything I usually like in humorous, Douglas Adams–inspired science fiction: lengthy infodumps, absurd alien species, human characters so over the top they might as well be on Everest … but it just … didn’t work. Catherynne Valente’s prose just tries too hard for me. That’s not really a critique in any serious sense. I know a lot of people loved this, and I fully expected to love it too. But every second paragraph-length digressive sentence had me screaming, “Get on with it!” in a way that The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy never did. Anyway, I know well enough to know that when I have that grating feeling, I shouldn’t trudge ahead. ...more |
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not set
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not set
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Apr 19, 2018
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Hardcover
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| 0399556796
| 9780399556791
| 4.12
| 8,083
| Sep 12, 2017
| Sep 12, 2017
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really liked it
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I want to start by listing a few critiques of Nyxia, any one of which I can understand would make you like the book less. Then I’ll explain why, despi
I want to start by listing a few critiques of Nyxia, any one of which I can understand would make you like the book less. Then I’ll explain why, despite these issues, I still loved this book so much. First, this is absolutely a “set up” novel. The entirety of the story takes place on the journey to Eden and then in orbit of the planet. The next book will presumably feature those who survived on Eden itself, attempting to mine Nyxia and no doubt discovering that the story fed to them by Babel about the Adamites is far more complicated. That being said, I don’t think this will come as a surprise to anyone who embarks on the book. I don’t feel like Reintgen pulled a fast one on me or anything. Second, the formulaic “pitting kids against each other in a fight to the metaphorical death” might feel a little derivative or clichéd. I’d argue that Reintgen does it differently enough, and well enough, to get a pass (more on that in a bit). But at the end of the day, Nyxia is a story about teens competing at the behest of the evil monolithic corporation. So make of that what you will. Third, although I’d argue that most of the characters end up with these interesting, diverse personality traits, it’s true that most of them don’t show much development. And Reintgen introduces an entire, parallel cast of characters in the last act (what a twist!) who, as a result, suffer a lack of page-time to grow into real people for us. So while it’s a pleasure to get to know Emmett and some of the others better, few them actually change much, and that’s a little frustrating. Finally, I am so incensed about the big death in this. Like, shaking with rage. I know that this is probably the desired reaction, and I totally understand the significance of killing off this character. But … it just makes me sad that once again, romance gets prioritized over friendship. And I’m sure that’s not what Reintgen is trying to say here, but it’s an unavoidable consequence of the choice he made. Booo. OK, having levelled these critiques, let’s go over why this book is such a wild ride. Mainly, it’s Emmett. As our protagonist and narrator, he is the heart of this story. I love how we get to watch him struggle and develop his own moral backbone. He is such a real, flawed character. He’s not a natural leader, but he tries to step up when it’s necessary. He’s not the smartest, fastest, or best at anything. He has particular talents, and tries to develop them—he does want to win. But when Babel presents him with certain choices to attempt to shape him into their tool, he has to think good and hard about whether he wants to let that happen. There is such a strong core of morality here, and a clear message not just about choosing your path but thinking carefully about your chosen path. Even though most of the other characters don’t seem to grow that much, Emmett grows by leaps and bounds. At the beginning of this book, he’s just in this to win and get the money. He wants to support his family and earn freedom. He’s suspicious of Babel but only in the way he’s suspicious of any big organization. As Nyxia unfolds and Babel puts Emmett and the others through the wringer, we see him mature. He starts to understand the stakes. And his suspicions of Babel turn into hard proof, into a more concrete form of distrust. He hardens—not in a bad way, not in a “loss of innocence” way, because I don’t think he ever had that illusion. Just in the way that kids turn into adults as they assume responsibility for their actions. I particularly like how Emmett revises his opinions of certain characters, like Jaime, as he gets to know them. Similarly, these characters revise their opinions of him. The whole crew isn’t exactly buddy-buddy by the end—there’s still competition, and of course certain people are outright hostile towards Emmett and some of the others. But Reintgen has this excellent way of showing, rather than telling, the strange bonds developing among these teenagers. It’s great storytelling, and it just got me in the feels. Bilal and the cards. And then they launch for Eden and … yeah. Man, this book is rough. Just when you think you’ve entered a light moment, boom, there goes another punch to the gut as Reintgen reminds you that this is not a game. The last few chapters of this book are so brutal and honest and … I just had to stay up late one night reading it until the end. Honestly, I couldn’t care less about the eponymous novum, what it can do, or why Babel wants it. It’s a MacGuffin for the sake of the story. I appreciate that Reintgen tries to establish some rules for it, and I like how he foreshadows that there is a whole lot more going on with nyxia than we can possibly know at this point. Despite its use in the title, though, this is not and probably never will be the main focus of the story for me. I’m in this to see Emmett grow and change and make tough decisions. Nyxia is hands-down one of the most exciting science-fiction stories, young adult or otherwise, I’ve read in a while. I’m thrilled it’s YA, because this is exactly the kind of thing that would have hooked me as a teen (as it has hooked me now, as a late twenty-something). (view spoiler)[RIP, Kaya. You were literally the best, my favourite, and you were sacrificed on the altar of plot before we ever really got to know you. Your friendship with Emmett was my everything, and I will carry that platonic torch in my heart as I go into book 2. (hide spoiler)] [image] ...more |
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Feb 26, 2018
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Feb 27, 2018
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Feb 26, 2018
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Hardcover
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| 0399587624
| 9780399587627
| 3.98
| 1,415
| Aug 14, 2018
| Aug 14, 2018
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liked it
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You all might remember how I raved about the Linesman series of books two years ago (OMG, HAS IT REALLY BEEN THAT LONG ALREADY?). That series from sis
You all might remember how I raved about the Linesman series of books two years ago (OMG, HAS IT REALLY BEEN THAT LONG ALREADY?). That series from sister act S.K. Dunstall literally reinvigorated my flagging love of space opera, no word of a lie. Go read my reviews for more on that. Stars Uncharted is a new offering in a new universe, and it too is brilliant in so many ways. Far more ensemble in its casting, Dunstall in this case follows two main protagonists: Nika Rik Terri is a skilled body modder (one of the best of the best) who suddenly has to go on the run from some bad dudes; Josune Arriola is living under an assumed identity after the exploration ship she has lived on for years is destroyed. Their stories intersect quickly and forcefully as they and their newfound allies try to escape from a corporation that needs to silence them, quickly, for the information they couldn’t help but find. Lots of really cool worldbuilding happening here. As with their previous series, Dunstall has a knack for giving us just enough exposition to help without bogging us down. This is a galaxy run by corporations rather than governments. Nullspace (like hyperspace, I guess) is the main way of jumping around systems, but it’s a touchy technology that requires calibration. Modding one’s body is commonplace enough, if one can afford it, but it too has elements of art in addition to science. And resources remain king: the main plot McGuffin is about finding the location of “Goberling’s lode”, a source of transuranic elements. Dunstall knows how to open a book with a bang. They waste little time setting anything up. In the case of both viewpoint characters, things go wrong pretty quickly, and from that point out, they have little opportunity to rest or regroup. This works well for almost the entire book. Plans and allegiances shift frequently. I admire that Dunstall isn’t afraid to set something up only for it to go awry, turn pear-shaped, and turn out entirely differently. Less confident or less experienced authors will often create a much more linear plot. Instead, Dunstall is happy to make us think the characters will zig one way, until a new wrinkle gets introduced and they zag instead. I say this works well for “almost” the entire book because—here’s where you have to lean close while I whisper my dirty fan-boy secret opinion—I’m not a huge fan of this ending. Specifically, at some point around chapter 30 or so, the pacing just went bananas. Too many things began happening at once, too many characters cycling around, people being captured and then being released and then … yeah. Just a lot to keep track of, at least for me, and the book overall felt like it had lost some of the focus it had in the earlier parts of the story. Moreover, I had long ago figured out the twist around Roystan’s identity, and I was just kind of impatient for Nika to figure it out and then reveal it to the others. Similarly, other elements of Stars Uncharted felt somewhat repetitive or could have been tweaked, in my opinion. The dramatic irony of Snow not knowing Nika’s true identity (it is so obvious, dude), while he keeps mentioning her name, gets old fast. Same with the constant warnings that Josune or Roystan or whoever needs to get into a modding tank ASAP, only for this to get drawn out far longer than it probably should be. At some point, I just found myself wishing for the end … and that’s never something I like in a novel. Keep in mind, too, that I started this book with high expectations and overall it met them from page one. I curled up on my couch under a blanket on a Saturday night and read the entire first half of Stars Uncharted then and there in one sitting, because I was excited and, more importantly, it was good. It was like a drug, which is my favourite experience when reading a book. Also, don’t think that just because the ending let me down somewhat, I didn’t enjoy the book overall. I loved most of the characters and their relationships. In particular, I think Nika was my favourite. I liked how she had to set aside a lot of her comforts and her habits in order to make do with this new, imperfect life she was living on the run. Perhaps some of my frustration with the pacing at the end is that, for the reasons of plot and conflict, we never had enough time for these characters to breathe and expand as much as I would like. I think I wanted a bit more “calm before the storm” than Dunstall ever manages to provide … it reminds me of Serenity, which, while an incredible science-fiction movie when viewed as a standalone, is a disappointing Firefly story, if that makes any sense (but that’s a whole other essay). In the end, Stars Uncharted doesn’t do it for me the way Linesman and its sequels did. There isn’t that same mystery that the alien ship in the Linesman series offers us. The resolution isn’t as good for me. But this is all kind of like saying that the chocolate ice cream isn’t as satisfying as the locally-made chocolate caramel gelato I have in my freezer. It’s still chocolate ice cream, after all. [image] ...more |
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1
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Nov 24, 2018
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Nov 25, 2018
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Jan 08, 2018
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Paperback
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| 0345491610
| 9780345491619
| 4.09
| 7,878
| Jan 01, 2008
| Feb 19, 2008
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liked it
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Let’s pause for a moment and savour the feeling of completing a series. That’s not always an easy undertaking, especially when reading them entirely t
Let’s pause for a moment and savour the feeling of completing a series. That’s not always an easy undertaking, especially when reading them entirely through the library! After five books, this series is ready for a conclusion. Elizabeth Moon delivers everything you might think you want—tension and build-up to a big, fancy space battle, and then a little resolution—but I’m not sure always delivers it how one would want. As always, this series has hovered on the edge of too pedantic, too detail-oriented for its own good. Victory Conditions carries on that tradition. As usual, spoilers for previous books in the series but not this one. Ky Vatta is preparing to fight the next battle in her war with pirate Gammis Turek. She has had some success recently, and various governments are beginning to align with her and offer ships for her effort. But it still might not be enough. Meanwhile, cousin Stella is running one half of Vatta Enterprises and supervising a love-sick Toby. Grace is running a lot of Slotter’s Key, and Rafe is still on Nexus, trying to disentangle the ISC from many years of corrupt management. There are too many main characters in this book. For a book of this size, there’s just too many people we are supposed to care about. And I really do think this leads to Moon dropping the ball: Toby, for instance, features prominently at the beginning of the story, only to be sidelined afterwards. We barely hear from him at all for the entire rest of the novel. Even for characters who receive their fair share of screen time, like Rafe or Stella, they seldom seem to have the time to breathe and grow. There’s this subtle conflict between Stella and Ky that is the result of their different yet equally strong and stubborn personalities: Stella thinks she is looking out for Ky when it comes to Rafe, and also Stella is very concerned about the business side of things; Ky, on the other hand, is laser-focused about winning the fight against Turek at any cost—and she is none too happy about Stella interfering with her love life either. It’s a lovely conflict, but it only gets a few pages here or there. Meanwhile, of course, Moon treats us to the ongoing logistics of refitting, supplying, and then fighting with so many ships. If you have made it this far in the series, then none of this will surprise you. Most of this book is meetings or conversations about weapons loads, stress profiles, etc. This is military science fiction at its most significant attempt to be “realistic,” and I like it, but I won’t pretend it’s riveting. Shout-out to Moon for including a chapter where Ky seeks therapy for her trauma, particularly with regards to having to kill so many people. Even when books like this acknowledge the toll that constant violence and combat takes, often they do it to demonstrate how edgy and tortured their protagonist is. For Moon to point out that even the best commanders need medical help from time to time is very important. Beyond that, I’d like to say I loved this book, but honestly I’m happy the series is over. The first two books are the best: Ky is new to her situation and really needs to think on her feet while confronting a tense series of dangers. These last three books have raised the stakes, but in terms of plot and pacing—and now characterization—they’ve just felt off. A little dull. Finally, I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out that Turek has been a disappointing villain. This isn’t really his fault. For the first few books, he was barely more than a shadow—people died saying his name. In this book, he’s broadcasting moustache-twirling messages to various systems, telling everyone how much they will fear his name! Moon lampshades this in the book, but combined with the anti-climactic confrontation that happens between Ky and Turek … alas, he never had the chance or space to grow into a truly formidable, interesting personality. Victory Conditions has a lot going for it. However, it’s also an example of a series that stumbles mid-way and never quite regains a solid footing. There is nothing wrong or bad here, nothing really even boring—but there also isn’t anything to make me sit up and say, “Wow, now that’s an ending.” Originally posted on Kara.Reviews, where you can easily browse all my reviews and subscribe to my newsletter. My reviews of Vatta’s War: ← Command Decisions [image] ...more |
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Sep 21, 2020
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Sep 25, 2020
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Dec 23, 2017
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Hardcover
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| 0345491599
| 9780345491596
| 4.10
| 8,791
| Jan 01, 2007
| Mar 31, 2007
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liked it
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Oh wow, remember how I thought
Engaging the Enemy
was boring and plodding? Command Decision is the complete reverse of that. With this book, Eliza
Oh wow, remember how I thought
Engaging the Enemy
was boring and plodding? Command Decision is the complete reverse of that. With this book, Elizabeth Moon revitalizes the Vatta’s War series. She advances the storyline considerably, for everyone involved. The result is a slick, faster-paced adventure that leaves the galaxy on the brink of hope—and war. As usual, spoilers for previous books but not this one. Command Decision opens not with Kylara Vatta but rather Rafe Dunbarger. Once Ky’s protege and an undercover operative for ISC, Rafe has returned to his homeplanet of Nexus II to confront his estranged father—CEO of ISC. Except his father is nowhere to be found, and something strange is happening, requiring Rafe to go deeper undercover and discover a conspiracy and a coup in progress. When we finally catch up with Ky, she and the other two ships forming her nascent space navy are looking for supplies. They run into some obstacles, eventually having to pick a fight with pirates to defend a one-time ally of Ky’s. The end result: Ky demonstrates her command chops once again and makes more friends, even as she definitely becomes more than a thorn-in-the-side for her piratical enemies. Meanwhile, back on Slotter’s Key, Ky’s Aunt Grace is now in government—what fun! And on Cascadia, Stella is discovering a knack for steering the newest incarnation of Vatta Enterprises, even if she doesn’t want to admit it to herself. Moon’s near-obsession with logistics proves more asset than liability in this volume. Things are constantly looking up for Vatta and its allies, yet Moon is always careful to take slightly more than she gives. Got some shiny missiles for your ships, Ky? How about a big ol’ space battle to deplete those reserves? And some more bad news about your ship while we’re at it? Finally proving yourself as a commander? How about a reminder that starting an interstellar, multi-government space navy is a nigh-impossible and impractical undertaking? If there’s anything I like more than a book just stacking the odds against its characters and slamming them with one challenge after another, it’s a book going out of its way to give its characters everything they want only for those things to be totally useless in the conflicts ahead. Can we also celebrate, once again, Moon’s talent for both the military and the science fiction aspects of military SF? There’s a lot of focus in Command Decision on the nature of a military or paramilitary organization: the requirements for discipline, the need for a commander to delegate certain tasks, and the nature of permissible risks. Similarly, Moon has a great handle on how much science she needs to drop into her science fiction. There are some great developments regarding the shipboard ansible technology, but Moon keeps the technobabble to a minimum. So you can read the book as semi-hard SF, albeit without as much exposition as one might expect, or as semi-soft SF, albeit with a little more realism when it comes to the nature of accelerating and decelerating and the limitations of lightspeed on acquiring information in a big ol’ space battle. However you interpret it, Moon’s writing is exactly what I was looking for, as usual: exciting and entertaining. It’s just like a cup of tea that really hits the spot. And unlike the previous book, this book just flies along. Ky and her allies get into one scrape or situation after the other. Rafe finds his family, but that’s only the start of his troubles. Not as much Stella in this one—she is mostly a bridge character here, to connect others together. Perhaps my only real complaint for this book is that, in some ways, it is much more of a setup for the next (and final?) instalment of the series. I cannot wait to see what Ky gets up to next—but I will hold off, just a little longer than I did between these two books, because I don’t want it to be over just yet. My reviews of Vatta’s War: ← Engaging the Enemy | Victory Conditions → [image] ...more |
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1
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Dec 17, 2017
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Dec 19, 2017
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Dec 17, 2017
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Hardcover
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| 0756412749
| 9780756412746
| 4.02
| 2,319
| Nov 07, 2017
| Nov 07, 2017
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liked it
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Jim C. Hines has been on my radar for a long time, but I haven’t actually read any of his books until now! When I saw this on NetGalley, I was intrigu
Jim C. Hines has been on my radar for a long time, but I haven’t actually read any of his books until now! When I saw this on NetGalley, I was intrigued. I know Hines mostly as a fantasy writer, so I was curious to see how his science fiction would be. Turns out Hines’ Terminal Alliance reminds me a lot of John Scalzi’s
Old Man’s War
universe. Side note: This book was published in early November, but I was only approved towards the end of last month. Terminal Alliance is set in a future where humanity has only recently been rescued from a self-inflicted “feral” virus by the Krakau, squid-like aliens who have formed a loose confederacy of worlds. Humans are infants compared to most species in the galaxy now: the Krakau are slowly “reawakening” as many feral humans as possible, but they’ve had to reassemble human culture and history from our spotty records. So all the humans alive take their names from historical figures. The protagonist is Marion Adamopoulos, or Mops, her name chosen after the scientist responsible for the virus that wiped out her species. Mops is the chief janitor—yes, janitor—aboard the EMC Pufferfish. But when a bioweapon takes out the Krakau in charge and renders everyone except Mops’ janitorial team (and one other alien comrade) feral again, it’s up to Mops and her janitor squad to save the day. It sounds tongue-in-cheek, I know, and in some ways it is. In other ways, it’s devastating and heartbreaking. I mean, Hines has essentially created a universe in which humanity has no real connection to the past and no real future. Mops might be a fan of Jane Austen’s work, but she probably lacks a coherent grasp of the context of what Austen was writing. And because there are so few reborn humans, and they are essentially dependent on the Krakau, humanity’s position in the galaxy is tenuous at best. No amount of situational comedy is going to soothe this wound. But, it might contribute to a very enjoyable plot. The sinister secret conspiracy stuff is about as subtle as a panto villain, but I suppose it gets the job done. Much more enjoyable is the way that Mops and her crew aren’t that competent at what they attempt. As space janitors, they aren’t exactly a crack military squad—and it shows. They rely on their ingenuity, training, and grit—and it gets them far. But they make lots of mistakes too. Although there is much to be said for competence porn and watching Jason Statham–like action heroes just mow through crowds of bad guys, I also enjoy the obverse scenario where people are plucked out of their comfort zone and struggle realistically with adapting to their new situation. I like how Hines uses the opening of each chapter as a way to infodump without overwhelming the reader. It works well here, because it allows him to push the plot forward very quickly while still informing us about the wider universe. I found myself anticipating these moments at the start of every new chapter, but they are never so long that they overstay their welcome. There are a few things that didn’t quite work for me. Much of the characterization, for example, was a little too glib (this is a problem for me with Scalzi’s work too)—Wolf and Mops’ interactions are a case in point. Similarly, I just never really got to know many of the characters beyond, perhaps, Mops. They all feel fairly cookie-cutter and stock to me. Finally, the climax feels like it drags on for a while, with a lot more false starts or red herrings and exposition than there needs to be. So, Terminal Alliance is a competent, fun, and rewarding book. I might read the sequel—it will be interesting to see what is in store for Mops and her crew now. However, it isn’t making any of my lists, so to speak. [image] ...more |
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1
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Dec 05, 2017
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Dec 07, 2017
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Dec 05, 2017
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Hardcover
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| 0345447573
| 9780345447579
| 4.07
| 8,435
| Jan 01, 2006
| Jan 30, 2007
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it was ok
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I want to give this entire series 5 stars even though I probably won’t give any of its individual instalments that rating. Does that make sense? Vatta
I want to give this entire series 5 stars even though I probably won’t give any of its individual instalments that rating. Does that make sense? Vatta’s War is just such a fun and compelling space opera with a strong central character, and Elizabeth Moon is a great storyteller. I say this while simultaneously admitting that, even though I really, really enjoyed reading Engaging the Enemy, I don’t think it’s actually all that good of a book. Yeah, this is going to be one of those reviews. Buckle up. (Spoilers for previous books but not this one.) Engaging the Enemy opens with Kylara and Stella Vatta plotting their next move. Leaving Stella in command of the Gary Tobai, Ky departs for a system that is more likely to recognize her prize claim to the Fair Kaleen, which she wrested from her pirate uncle in the previous book. What ensues is basically Ky trying to get her prize recognized as legitimate while also forming a governments-funded space navy to fight the organized pirates that appear to be disrupting trade. Meanwhile, she leaves Stella mostly to fend for herself, which Stella doesn’t appreciate. And back on Slotter’s Key, Aunt Grace has to get all wetwork on government-sponsored assassins. It’s pretty cool. This book’s strengths are similar to the previous books in the series. Moon does make anything easy for our protagonists. There are no convenient outs here, no crowning moments when someone waltzes in with exactly the right plan to save the day. If anything, the running gag in this book is that everything Ky does makes her situation worse—except that she continually manages, against all odds, to survive. I love these books because I love watching Ky struggle and agonize over her decisions, over the burden of command on her young shoulders, and most recently, the loss of her family. Moon sends her and her associates through the wringer, yet Ky still has only one thing in sight: stopping the people who started this mess. On balance, though, I have to admit that there is little of note about this third book in the series. I mean, Moon basically relies on two things to stymie Ky: communication difficulties (or people not being in the right place at the right time) and other people being obstreperous buffoons. There is very little action here; most of the conflict comes from Ky navigating legal challenges, including dealing with the possibility that someone is going to accuse her crew of stealing a dog. Also, not a big fan of the conflict between Ky and Stella. Its existence makes total sense, but the way Moon has written it makes it sound so contrived and really doesn’t do justice to Stella. Her attitude towards Ky is totally justified, especially considering the stress that both Vattas are under after the deaths of their family. Yet Moon essentially hands Stella the Idiot Ball to drum up enough tension while trying to get us to doubt whether Ky is even actually Ky. So, yeah, I can’t pretend that this book is a masterpiece of plotting, conflict, and characterization. But I can’t deny that it still satisfied every space opera bone in my body. I curled up with this over the weekend and just revelled in the atmosphere of this universe. That’s the thing about science fiction: even the pulpy stuff (and, to be clear, Engaging the Enemy is far from pulp) feels so good. The very act of inhabiting a hypothetical future, of imagining space travel and space pirates and space … uh … legal wrangling … is such a fulfilling, stimulating experience. And despite perhaps failing to create a truly compelling story here, Moon still has this fantastic world. And even though her actions aren’t all that interesting in this book, Ky herself remains a great protagonist. The major theme here is how to deal with having killed someone, with having to kill someone—and what you do when you discover that you liked it. Ky’s brain is basically asking, “What if I’m a bad person?” on repeat, and you can see this weighing heavily with her every decision. There is some great psychological tension here, and I’m not talking about the paternity plot. There is so much here that Moon could have done better, but in the end … I just don’t care. Totally a fanboy. My reviews of Vatta’s War: ← Marque and Reprisal | Command Decision → [image] ...more |
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1
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Nov 02, 2017
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Nov 04, 2017
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Nov 02, 2017
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Mass Market Paperback
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| 1841496359
| 9781841496351
| 3.60
| 1,084
| Nov 01, 2011
| Nov 01, 2011
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liked it
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Going to keep this review short because (a) I’m ridiculously behind on writing reviews and (2) I feel like I’ve said almost everything I can about thi
Going to keep this review short because (a) I’m ridiculously behind on writing reviews and (2) I feel like I’ve said almost everything I can about this series in my reviews of the first book and the second book. The Ascendant Stars concludes the Humanity’s Fire trilogy (I know there’s a fourth book, but it appears to be a standalone), but if you’ve made it this far, then you know pretty much what to expect. As with The Orphaned Worlds, this book includes a synopsis of the previous books at the beginning. I found this extremely helpful. Michael Cobley’s space opera series spans so many worlds, has a cast of so many characters, that I had no hope of remembering everything. The style of narration is somewhat pompous and melodramatic, reminding me of the narrator of the Robotech anime, which I’m currently rewatching after discovering it on Netflix. And that fits with the scope of this series, which leans heavily on the opera side of space opera. If you have made it this far through the series, then you’re going to like The Ascendant Stars as well. The trilogy is essentially one, long book broken up into three volumes: the continuity is very tight, and there is no real difference between a break between the books and a break between chapters within one book. All the characters from the previous books are back, ready to take on the Legion of Avatars, the Godhead, the Hegemony, etc. As the various players converge upon Darien’s space and the Forerunner warpwell activates to spew forth the Legion of Avatars, everyone prepares to pitch in however they can. By the same token, however, this book doesn’t do much that is new or different from the other books. I’m kind of over this series. They are fun adventures, but like I said in a previous review, Cobley doesn’t do anything new with this genre. He has remixed a lot of old tropes, and it’s quite well done, but it doesn’t stimulate me the way something like Linesman has. I read this book because I had a copy lying around and kind of wanted to find out how the story ends (even if I could guess at the broad strokes). Part of me wishes Cobley slowed down enough to ponder the philosophical implications of so much of the technology here. Mind uploading, copying, etc., is commonplace—what does that mean for identity and continuity of consciousness? He comes close with regards to Catriona, who spends most of this story as a disembodied consciousness within Segrana. She exists as a kind of interface between Segrana and the Zyradin, and she ruminates on what she is now that she no longer has a body. In contrast, though, Julia turns into a “fractalized sentience” but is otherwise no worse for wear, apparently. (I will not spoil the ultimate fates of either of these characters, though.) I appreciate the vast scope of this story. This really is space opera done right, at least in the sense of grandeur that Cobley’s storytelling evokes. It’s a double-edged sword, because this many characters and plots means it is difficult to spend enough time with everyone. And perhaps I just wasn’t in quite the right mood when reading this, maybe I actually hankered for a more character-driven novel. Whatever the reason, I wouldn’t say that The Ascendant Stars excited me as much as it could have—but if you want a vast, plot-driven, star-system–spanning story, then you could do worse than tackling this series. My reviews of the Humanity’s Fire series: ← The Orphaned Worlds [image] ...more |
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1
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Jun 18, 2017
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Jun 18, 2017
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Jun 18, 2017
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paperback
| ||||||||||||||
| 1473206162
| 9781473206168
| 3.95
| 164
| unknown
| May 18, 2017
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really liked it
|
I received this from NetGalley and Gollancz in return for a review. It took me a little longer to finish reading it than a book, even one of this size
I received this from NetGalley and Gollancz in return for a review. It took me a little longer to finish reading it than a book, even one of this size, would, so I’m a little behind the curve here. I got distracted, you see, what with buying my first-ever house. Were it not for that, I would have devoured Exodus in a day or two, because it’s that good. It’s not quite the space opera I’ve been craving since tearing through the latest Linesman novel; I think my freezer burn on posthumanism is still causing some issues. That’s saying something, then, that I enjoyed this as much as I did. Exodus is the third book in a trilogy. This wasn’t readily apparent to me from the NetGalley or Goodreads descriptions; had it been, I probably wouldn’t have requested it. I don’t think it does an author any favours to start a trilogy at the final book in most cases! This is a rare exception: Alex Lamb’s exposition helps you understand the state of this universe after the first two books, and any regret I feel for having missed these books is more around the fact that if I go back and read them now, I’m going to know how the story ends! I’m see lots of comparisons in the marketing material to Peter F. Hamilton, and I get that, but Lamb reminds me a little more of Alastair Reynolds and the Revelation Space universe, particularly with the M.O. of the Transcended here. Lamb works hard to balance between writing three-dimensional individual characters and also stuffing our heads to bursting with cool posthuman SF ideas on a trillion-year timescale. That’s very difficult to do, which is why I find myself increasingly disenchanted with posthuman SF—but Exodus pulls it off. The story is a Hail Mary type of adventure to help humanity against a mortal enemy, the Photurians, or Photes. This species “converts” human individuals, bringing them euphoric “bliss” at the price of individual privacy or sanity. At the beginning of the novel, two of our protagonists are involved in the evacuation of Earth, which has finally fallen to the Photes. One of the few remaining refuges of humanity is its most powerful world, Galatea, in the grip of the New Society, an autocratic regime of young leaders and ruthless military discipline coupled with psychological therapy. The other main characters are “heroes” from the older generation, out of step with this new mode of governing, and many of them mourning the society that has passed them by. This adventure is perfect for them (even if they don’t want to admit it) and will perhaps even reunite them with a long-lost friend, Will Monet, the main character (apparently) of previous books. To be honest, the characters in this book are not the main draw, in my opinion. They’re all right, and if I had been through this entire ride with them, I’d probably feel much closer to them. Lamb does his best to make me feel the immense burden of Ann’s disconnection from humanity; he tries his best to help me understand how frustrated and powerless Mark feels, how confused and lost Will feels, and how Ira vacillates between feeling obsolete and feeling absolutely essential on this crew. There are some genuine moments of pathos here. Largely, though, the relationships are predictable, the interpersonal conflict is predictable, and the romance is boring and very hetero. However, like so many books with Big Ideas, the crunchiest nougat of Exodus is the way Lamb sketches out possible futures, technologies, and even conjectures for the organization and structure of life on a universal scale. Virtual reality plays a major role here, along with the underlying assumption that the human brain can be accessed and hacked like any computer. Identities are fluid, most exemplified in the character of Nada Rien. Lamb digs into the idea of possibly finding a way to use the universe itself as a computational substrate in a way that is much less metaphorical and far more interesting than, say, Dan Simmons’ Hyperion uses. If you really like your posthumanism bleeding-edge-this-is-basically-magic, then this book has that in spades. I also enjoy Lamb’s depiction of faster-than-light travel. He doesn’t use too much exposition, and what he includes serves to deepen my awareness of this universe rather than my understanding. For example, I don’t know how warp travel works in this universe (aside from using something called “curvon flow”), but I do know that there are different types of warp travel (traditional, ember, and stealth) with varying advantages and disadvantages. I don’t really understand what a “boser” is, or what “warpium” is—but I totally grok their purposes in the story, and while they might actually be unrealistic according to our current understanding of physics, Lamb makes them believable enough within this universe. Yes, any time you start throwing in Transcended species and talking about vacuum states you’re crossing the line towards techno-space-fantasy. But Exodus tries really hard to make you think you’re just touching the line. Philosophically, Exodus questions the nature of identity. It seems to take it as a given that the human mind, or mind-state, can be copied and uploaded, and even duplicated. Although Exodus doesn’t quite grapple with the existential questions surrounding duplication of consciousness, it does ask us to consider what it would be like to, for example, live in a society solely of differentiated versions of yourself. If you just read that sentence twice and are now asking “what the hell does that mean?” then you’re not alone. Basically, Lamb wants us to confront the uncomfortable notions of what separates society from self, species from individual, and whether or not the human predilection towards individuality over these past millennia is itself a good survival trait. This is one of the most fascinating uses for science fiction: authors examining aspects of our species and asking what we are prepared to change about our species in order to survive on a universal time-scale. Are we willing to speciate? Are we willing to redefine what we mean by consciousness, by life, by individuality and thought and identity? I don’t know the answers to these questions, myself; some of it I’ll never know, at least not until I get simulated by the overbrain stored in the smart-matter computational matrix of New New Earth several millennia from now. Until then, all I can do is keep reading fascinating SF novels that ask these questions for me! [image] ...more |
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1
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May 21, 2017
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May 30, 2017
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May 21, 2017
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ebook
| ||||||||||||||
| B01BKR43J0
| 4.06
| 20,280
| Nov 01, 2016
| Nov 01, 2016
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it was ok
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I was excited for this, but Lily’s review says it all: you’ve read this book before (and you’ve probably read better versions of this book). The Diabo
I was excited for this, but Lily’s review says it all: you’ve read this book before (and you’ve probably read better versions of this book). The Diabolic is a YA-targeted mash-up of the aging and stagnant interstellar empire, a fish-out-of-water story, gene-hacking on overdrive, and of course, a romance (why does there always have to be a romance). S.J. Kincaid’s writing is slick and compelling; I definitely felt the need to keep reading. In the end, though, this is the book equivalent of eating candy. Nemesis is the eponymous Diabolic in service to Sidonia—Donia as endearment—who is one of the heirs to a senator’s seat in the great Grandiloquy Senate of this galactic empire. The Emperor is displeased with her father’s political and social positions, so he summons Donia to the capital as a hostage. Nemesis gets sent in Donia’s place, to pose as her master and, if necessary, fall afoul of whatever merciless fate awaits her in the capital. Diabolics are genetically-engineered creatures who look human but are stronger, faster, better—except with none of that empathy and emotional stuff that makes baseline humans, you know, so weak. Nemesis has been programmed to care about one thing only: Donia’s survival. She won’t hesitate to kill anyone—even one of Donia’s family, or herself—who stands in the way of that. This is genuinely an interesting premise, which is why I was so excited. I was looking forward to a story exploring female friendship and humanity in a science-fiction setting. The Diabolic sort of does this, but along the way it seems to get pretensions of being more clever of a story than it actually is. Still, I want to talk about the genetic engineering parts of this book. First, phenotypical modification is rampant in this universe, at least among the elite. Anyone with the right money/rank can alter their appearance in any number of ways (though apparently arbitrarily changing one’s gender expression is frowned upon … because why?), both through biological/genetic modifications and technological enhancements like little bots that light your hair to make it look a slightly different colour. In this way, Kincaid demonstrates both the technological prowess of this once-great civilization as well as its descent into inanity. Second, it’s unclear if genotypical modification is the order of the day for the Grandiloquy—certainly they don’t frown on doing it for creatures, be they Diabolics or fighting animals that are the genetic mash-ups of old Earth beasts. But do they modify their own children to make them faster, strong, better? For the matter, in a society so immersed in gene-tinkering, I’m not sure why they have such a hard time making planets more habitable. Genetically engineer some bacteria to help you terraform, modify your crops, modify yourselves … voilà. Similarly, one would think that an emperor as bent on being a despot tyrant of the Excess as this one would have considered simply engineering a more docile population…. I mean, they did that with the Servitors after all. Kincaid avoids having to get into all this somewhat with the Helionic diktat against scientific research, which would explain the lack of innovation, etc. I found this part of the story as boring as I did the genetic engineering intriguing, if only because we’ve seen the “religion vs. science as a proxy for conservativism vs progressivism” for a long time. The Diabolic misses out on a chance to approach the issue with more nuance. Kincaid creates all these opportunities to engage in the harm that science, unchecked by any moral concerns, can do—Nemesis herself, and her reaction to the creature-fighting, is a prime example of this. Yet the story instead focuses mostly on more simplistic ideas. My gut reaction to the beginning of the story, which details Nemesis’ upbringing and forcible programmed devotion to Donia, was interesting. I had a visceral disgust for what was happening. It made me think, basically, of how our increasing knowledge of the human brain is leading us towards all these possible convergences of Not Good™ meat-hacking. It doesn’t matter if it’s through brain-computer interfaces, gene-tampering, whatever—The Diabolic is just the latest in a long line of books to remind me that we’re so close, as a species, to stepping over the precipice and being done. Sorry if that’s depressing, but I want to put that out there. And, really, Nemesis and maybe Neveni might be the only people in this book who seem like they have any kind of claim to being quote-unquote good enough to be our protagonists? Everyone else is a pretty empty, amoral being. I know Nemesis is technically supposed to be amoral, but her whole character arc is one of pseudo-redemption/acquisition of a soul as a reward for her loyal service. And Neveni has a backbone. I don’t care about any of the other Grandiloquy characters, not even the love interest who is supposed to save them all with Nemesis’ help. This character’s role as a love interest is so problematic. It’s yet another rendition of the “I will teach you how to love” sci-fi trope, where an older male figure stirs up passion in a young woman questioning her humanity, and her awakening romantic and/or sexual attraction is an essential component of realizing she is actually human too. I am all for Nemesis learning to be human and, if she chooses, embarking in relationships. But it’s not too much to (a) want to avoid using romantic/sexual relationships as a shorthand for “you are more human” and (b) ask for healthy relationships between equals, not a relationship between you and someone who shoves control electrodes into your skull. Yeah. The Diabolic has such potential. Kincaid lavishly sets a scene early on; I love the way she builds up the world with the perfect balance of exposition. Nevertheless, there’s a lot in here that I wish had been different. In rushing headlong into so many neat ideas from science fiction, this book also manages to fall into a lot of the same traps earlier versions of these stories have. It’s fun to read, but it didn’t wow me. [image] ...more |
Notes are private!
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none
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1
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May 18, 2017
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May 20, 2017
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May 18, 2017
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Kindle Edition
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my rating |
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|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
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| 4.06
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it was ok
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Aug 12, 2020
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Aug 11, 2020
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| 4.15
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liked it
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Dec 08, 2020
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Jul 05, 2020
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| 4.14
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liked it
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Jun 17, 2020
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Jun 14, 2020
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| 4.16
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liked it
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Jun 13, 2020
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Jun 13, 2020
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| 4.32
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not set
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Feb 11, 2020
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| 4.26
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really liked it
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Oct 24, 2019
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Oct 22, 2019
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| 4.12
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it was ok
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Oct 29, 2020
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Sep 22, 2019
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| 3.80
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liked it
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Sep 09, 2019
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Sep 09, 2019
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| 4.25
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liked it
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Aug 12, 2019
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Aug 12, 2019
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| 3.97
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liked it
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Oct 03, 2020
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Jun 22, 2019
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| 3.81
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liked it
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Mar 15, 2019
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Mar 14, 2019
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| 4.16
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liked it
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Mar 05, 2019
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Mar 04, 2019
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| 3.86
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liked it
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Jul 25, 2019
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Feb 21, 2019
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| 3.92
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liked it
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Jun 11, 2019
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Feb 17, 2019
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| 4.57
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liked it
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Dec 24, 2018
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Dec 24, 2018
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| 4.46
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really liked it
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Dec 23, 2018
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Dec 23, 2018
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| 4.01
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really liked it
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Sep 25, 2018
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Sep 21, 2018
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| 3.92
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liked it
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Oct 24, 2018
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Sep 02, 2018
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| 3.79
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liked it
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Aug 07, 2018
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Aug 05, 2018
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| 3.83
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liked it
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Aug 04, 2018
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May 31, 2018
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| 3.52
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not set
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Apr 19, 2018
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| 4.12
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really liked it
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Feb 27, 2018
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Feb 26, 2018
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| 3.98
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liked it
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Nov 25, 2018
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Jan 08, 2018
| |||||
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| 4.09
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liked it
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Sep 25, 2020
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Dec 23, 2017
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| 4.10
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liked it
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Dec 19, 2017
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Dec 17, 2017
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| 4.02
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liked it
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Dec 07, 2017
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Dec 05, 2017
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| 4.07
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it was ok
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Nov 04, 2017
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Nov 02, 2017
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| 3.60
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liked it
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Jun 18, 2017
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Jun 18, 2017
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| 3.95
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really liked it
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May 30, 2017
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May 21, 2017
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| 4.06
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it was ok
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May 20, 2017
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May 18, 2017
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