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This is likely to wreck early to the DNF pile... Everything seems either pointless character exposition or who they find bed-worthy, with more exposition.

The number of characters he has to give a horrible pun for a name...!

Her breasts. Really. You know we don’t look at our breasts as we breathe, right? Yeah, they’re there, BUT JUST SAY CHEST AND LEAVE THE GIRL’S BREASTS OUT OF IT.

NO. JUST. NO. STOP.

Well, at least now the diacritic in paprikás is going the right way.

This should be a tragic moment, and I’m trying not to laugh.

I swear if the ship cats die I will burn this book.

Truly, “two teens licking fruit cream off each other while a grown man watches pervertedly in the doorway” wasn’t on my bingo card for this book, but why am I surprised by this point.

Feeling alive again is like having sex.

Yeah, cool, great, thanks.

This half a page reads like actual space opera hard scifi. I might have found the point where the book becomes interesting. (And now waiting to see if I jinxed myself.)

Wtf Satterwaith ass-slapping scene? This book is a walking HR violation.

“‘I see,’ he said, meaning he understood.”

When you mansplain your own writing….

Hot take: Grubb is the actual narrator because his story of the ship ghost includes the omniscient character explanations and miscommunications that clog up the rest of the text.

ExCUSE ME??????

“Why, sex is the single thing most easily come by in this ship.”
Wong has a surprisingly self-aware and meta moment. And then immediately afterward the narrative devolves into the self-absorbed sex-driven “plot.”

“He wanted exit, not entry” is one of those lines that you THINK is really clever but is, in fact, extremely cringe, and I hope it haunts Mr. Flynn for the rest of eternity.

God this scene is AWKWARD.

Somehow, against all odds, pages 83-86* pass the Bechdel test.

Page 87 it promptly fails, but it had a better-than-expected run. (*okay, it dips a little on page 85 too)

Bottom of page 16: our first named female character walks in.
First line of page 17: comment on her breasts

In the twenty pages I’ve read since then, I already know I’m going to hate this book. But now I have to know to what EXTENT I’m going to hate it.