Harry

An historical novel about an 18th century sea captain who comes into possession of an infant Indian rhinoceros, Clara, and tours with the now beloved animal throughout Europe. This is a dual narrative, paired with a story about a contemporary historical researcher unveiling the mysteries of Clara's story from the 1700's while discovering the focus of her own life (think, oh say, the movie Titantic). It works. This is based upon actual history of which we know very little. The narrative picks up steam as it goes, including a little mystery, of course. But for me, the best parts were, first, the dip into the lives of the 1700's, the dangers of ocean travel, the risks of sickness, the lavishness of royalty, but secondly, and most of all, the depiction of the bonds that are possible between humans and animals. A delight for animal- and history-lovers (or both).

This book has more novel ideas and settings from one paragraph to the next then most sf&f authors manage to squeeze out in the course of an entire tome. This book is some combination of a drug induced hallucinatory vision with Alice in Wonderland, yet manages to pull off a clear hero journey's plot. In contrast to the formulas and tropes of most books I read, this 2-decade old book is fresh, original, and compellingly crazy.

A book that is at its core YA even if it's not marketed as such (perhaps because of the swearing?). It certainly satisfied my library fetish, and its setting is its greatest pleasure. The author is skillful in his twists and turns and reveals, done in a satisfying way. I also liked the blurring and suggestive fantasy-that's-actually-sf setting, always clever. However, the tinge of ‘young people rise about their oppressive cultural system' is getting kind of old for me, although the book picks up a bit away from that, it did weaken it for me. That, and -warning- the book ends on, if not a cliffhanger, certainly a suspended note - reminding you that this is a 3-book series with more to come that you have to buy. Or not.

An example of a completely transparent allegory / fable (intentionally so). The analogies are obvious and unsubtle. For me, that sucked the life out of this story, for others, it may be compelling and stylish; goodness knows, it is well-written. Yes, I understand, this is a style. The ending skews to a super-powered deus-ex-machina style resolution as well, which felt cliché.

I needed a break from regular reading, a quick read with which the brain could just coast along - and Star Trek tie-in books are always a good choice for that niche. I knew Joe Haldeman had penned a few, Haldeman being on the top shelf of the best of serious sf grand master writers. So, this seemed like a good choice. Oh boy. Well. Haldeman pretty much phoned this one in. Characters spout all their cliche lines and phrases, even when it seems out of context - it feels like Haldeman's editors gave him a to-do list which he dutifully checked off. Oddly enough, at the same time, many of the our beloved characters often act very much out of character. And, to add the final insult, he rehashed the super-being plot with almost eye rolling sameness – even to the point of referencing as a aside (with a wink) one of the TOS episodes with super beings (in a footnote, no less). Finally, Haldeman literally cuts and pastes a passage from James Blish's novelization of Amok Time - to fill out his required word count perhaps? Well, I hope the author met his rent payment or got his new dishwasher with this dashed-off work. Not unpleasant but unsatisfying.

A story that is sort-of off-stage comical, which touches on serious topics of species extinction, habitat destruction, global warming, and so on. The positive: it takes the capitalist “credits” scheme and shows how it can be abused producing simply opposite results to the goal (A good antidote to Kim Stanley Robinson's naïveté on this topic.) I'm convinced Beauman is a realist, alas. Negative: it ends up with a rather tired trope (which I will refrain from elaborating on - for spoiler reasons) and 2 cliffhanger endings, which felt rather weak at the end.

The book certainly spoke to my library fetish, and the author surely did her homework and sprinkled the book with all kinds of NYPL history and trivia. Part family drama (although really focused on 2 individuals) and part mystery. Honestly, the family drama has been done better (check out Hala Alyan's The Arsonist's City) and the mystery is very guessable (clues are there - kudos to the author), overall, it's a satisfying read. There's a feminist aspect, but that thrust is blunted by its historical nature somewhat, but I appreciated the attempt to grapple with the possible conflicts between family and self-realization. Honestly, read it for the library history and the lions' backstory.

First, this really needs to be said: this book owes a huge intellectual debt to Ray Bradbury's seminal story “I Sing the Body Electric” - certainly in theme and concern, some plot elements, and, I must say, the final scenes recall that 60s story quite a bit. OK, now that I said that, this is an excellent book and I'd recommend it to anyone without reservation. A story about love, humanity, caring, and ... AI (thus Bradbury) and, the world seen through the eyes of a ‘new' being (like Shelley's Frankenstein, i.e. the book). Top it off with some wry off-stage musing about religion. The writing from Nobel winner Ishiguro is top shelf, naturally. The book exudes positivity, at times wistful, at times nearly exuberant.

Although I absolutely love Gideon the Ninth, for me, the remaining more serious books have left me wanting. I hoped Nona would turn this around, and, although it has its bright points (Nona and her life, in particular) I'm very much left with the feeling of “can someone please tell me what's going on now, pleeeease” - I might suggest to other readers to either re-read the earlier books closer in time first, or, make use of the wiki. Nevertheless, a book that needs a wiki, is a book that's, um, imperfect. Wow that sounds like I didn't like the book, oh dear, I did; you get more Locked Tomb, crazy magic, wild merging of science fiction and fantasy, and, indeed, through dream flashback, an actual reveal (sort of) of how the universe of Gideon the Ninth originated. Anyway, it's worth the trip, and the ambiguity.

I read this series of 3 books to sort of take a break from heavier stuff I'd been reading, figuring Star Wars would be easy and quick, but I didn't want a novelization with all the characters and bleeps and bloops - this is a series that takes place outside of the location and timeline of the main Stars Wars (I knew this) but still fit the tropes quite well - it fit the bill, a fun read, where I could slide with fun familiar things, like breaking my diet for one meal and driving through the hamburger joint. Plus, I trust that Zahn is a skilled author, and in this series he held up that bargain well. If this is the sort of thing you're looking for, this is for you. If you're looking for your favorite characters, they're not here: Anakin makes an off-screen cameo, and of course in this ending chapter of the book, you get set up for all the Thrawn expanded universe stuff; but it's not Star Wars. But it is in the tropes, and, not being critical, because this is what I expect, even look for in a relax read - I mean there's a lot of intellectual debt owed to Dune, E. E. Doc Smith, Sailing Ship age novels, Star Wars of course (even the long lost siblings trope makes an appearance), the whole Hero's Journey thing, and more. Nor should you expect any hard sf, I mean space is crowded with debris (it's not) and there is no smoke in space, but, we don't care, it's for fun. And as I said, I have a high opinion of Zahn to give you a good story. It does get a bit draggy when the main character, Thrawn, goes through the same battle routine over and over again, making some magically never-fail fake-out gambit - you'd think every other character would get wise after 3 books of this (well, they do, sort of) - but on the other hand, these sections read like military sf under cruise control. Set your expectations, and Zahn delivers to those. Put your feet up and read.

A sort of parts collection of familiar themes: Planet of the Apes, post apocalypse, and evil computer on a spaceship; but lots of unique things going on here too. We start out in the first half only guessing what's going on (we're not even sure of the physical form of our characters). We get only bits and pieces from some successor to humanity, after some calamity of global warming and/or the eruption of Yellowstone. It becomes clear with reveals, which can be guessed, and we do get an info dump (unlike many folks, I should note, I am not anti-info-dump) way into the 2nd section, which is a distinct narrative. What's really notable to me about the book, in addition to the unique ideas or combination of ideas, is a recurring theme of cults, conspiracy theories, and who or what is really trustworthy. Who is skewing the truth? There's even a charismatic cool-aid cult leader along the way. A theme very apropos for out times. Kudos to McAuley for working this in, it made the book for me. Although I'm a little ambiguous about the ending, which is weak with a pointless cliffhanger, but, you read it: recommend.

A novel which starts off with wildly different threads, a 19th century Buffalo hunter and two non-humans and a girl on Mars. The book slowly bring threads together: a familiar and well-liked mechanism, done nicely here. The author cobbles together several tropes (a huge debt is owed to Frederik Pohl, Man Plus) but much of whatever science there is, is very iffy, e.g. the effect of global warming is only sea level rise. The big positive is the bringing together of seemingly irrelevant stories, an old trick but well done for a first novel. But, honestly, there are also better novels out there, this year, with the same themes and ambiance.

I was so eager to read Asher's new Polity book, that I ordered it early from the UK (currently it's available as an ebook in the US). Alas, I was somewhat disappointed. Ursula opts out of civilization to lead a group of long-lived, and thus disaffected, colonists to settle on a world where evolution has gone into high gear such that every organism is fantastically dangerous and out to get humans, including the plants, thus, it's Harry Harrison's “Deathworld” warmed over. (I hope that author's estate gets at least a nod.) There's lot of good set-up and seemingly interesting ideas we're teased with, but unfortunately, the bulk of the book goes from one encounter to the next with the ultra-predators, the unfortunately named cacoraptors, each encounter described in agonizing (and eventually uninteresting) detail. The raptors can morph instantly from a dinosaur to a burrowing worm to a humanoid and are ridiculously overpowered, and even with their own superpowers constantly enhancing, it's not clear why the humans simply aren't stomped out, except, of course: For the plot. This quote from p. 266 pretty much describes the repetitive action in the whole book: “He was right - the creatures were too tough and the weapons he had weren't powerful enough.” To make things worse, Asher divides each chapter into Present, Near Past, and Past. Now, of course I know that telling narratives out of order is a feature of modern literature, but Asher really drops the ball with this, the Present chapters give away what happens in the Past narratives, and the Past narratives rarely enlighten us or add any reveals - with the net result of making the story seem even more repetitive. It redeems itself toward the end, where things finally come to a conclusion with reveals that honestly, don't completely surprise (that may be intended, though). For those with an aversion to violence, there is violence on nearly every page here, although it struck me as cartoon violence, your mileage may vary. It was an “okay” book, but disappointing in many respects.

High recommendation. A fascinating book that reads like a 40s noir film. Each chapter sets a staged location brimming with ambiance and meaning, each a little play in itself, as well as slowly moving ahead the thoroughly ambiguous story of Dr. B., a Jewish German journalist who fled Poland with his family for “neutral” Stockholm in the years before all-out war. The name dropping of actual political figures, spies, and authors will have you raising your eyebrows, because it's real. A novelization of the author's grandfather's actual life during that time, literally discovered in a box of memoirs after his death. It gets you throughly into the experience of a man clearly desperate to protect his family by any means, yet rejected by the nation and culture that is inextricably part of him. My favorite is an early scene in a church, again worthy of a noir film (in fact, it recalls Hitchcock), mysterious and nearly surreal. Rich scenes, rich characterizations, a novel well worth seeking out.

An early 60s book which represents 50s Golden Age Science Fiction better than if it was a contemporary pastiche, or, if you like, an accurate simulation of 50s “B” sci fi movies: let loose your logic and have a ball reading this. A crazy quilt of tropes and borrowings, meteors land in Kansas (why? spoilers!) carrying alien beings (thank you Mr Wells), but they're invisible, attaching to people's necks and controlling them like, er, Puppet Masters (thank you Mr Heinlein, Outer Limits, Star Trek...), but, the universe is saved through the actions of a Meteoritics professor who also has intimate knowledge of many other branches of physics, is an electrician, car mechanic, crack shot with a gun, can climb mountains, well you get the idea (Mr Millard should again thank Mr Heinlein). Of course, he manages to in the process also save his blond bombshell girlfriend (who also has as many PhDs as him, but, umm, for some 1950s reason, is only his “assistant”.) Oh, the aliens, they're evil because, you know, evolving to be emotionless beings of pure intellect makes you evil (again, thank you Mr Wells). Get some popcorn, imagine the characters in grainy black and white and 50s special effects, and have a heck of a fun afternoon with this short novel.

Well John Waters' book “Liarmouth” has seemingly done something impossible - it actually makes me want to stop at the James Fenimore Cooper rest stop on the New Jersey turnpike - just so I can stop, match the real place up, and imagine events described in the book as happening there. This is not a book recommend, not without reservation. If you're thinking ‘it's a novel, it can't be as filthy, disgusting, and absurd as his early films, right?' It's gotta be more Hairspray than Pink Flamingos, right? Think again. It is funny, though. Characters eat, do, and say disgusting things, and few are likable, but they're all funny. But I'm not responsible, you have been warned. Waters' affection for his native Baltimore (if you can call it affection) is on full display as well. It was on the New York Public Library's ‘recommended reads of 2022' shelf in midtown, so, go for it.

This book is directed toward ‘ambitious strivers' who are now finding themselves slipping. Let me say, arrogance and privilege exude from almost every single sentence of this book. If this book is directed to ambitious strivers (like, Mr Books himself, which to be fair, he does not hide the fact that this book is largely about him), then why do more than 100 people have it on hold in the NYPL? I leave the sociology to another essay, but I'm sure it's because how to find meaning after midlife is something we all are looking for insight. Although even though I'm largely negative on it, it does have some insights: your mileage may vary. I'm going to be snippy and summarize the thesis this way: So you, Mr or Ms Ambitious Striver, have spent your life being successful, making lots of money and fame, while (and he makes a point of this) neglecting your life, your spouse, your children and pretty much everything else in life, except conspicuous consumption. Now you're at the point where inevitably your lunch is eaten by other younger, talented (perhaps more ruthless) people. Now what do you do? You reassess your life. Move on to different strengths. Positively you become a mentor and teacher and move on to the business of wisdom. Spending a lot of money on flying to India to chat with a guru nobody else can talk to, talking to your buddy the Dali Lama, making spiritual walks in Spain (because downtown DC just won't cut it I guess). Then. You convert to Catholicism. Whatever, you read the book. My major argument with the book is this: if people can get addicted to success, then perhaps this book is being directed to the wrong age group? Why are you talking to people who have made their success, if, like a meth addict, get them before they fall down the path, tell the young that there's more to life? I warn all, there's a heavy sell on religion for a few chapters (nothing any devoted free thinker couldn't demolish in seconds), but there's a smidge of disingenuousness there, I mean he buddies up to us, saying talking to religious people is like “someone trying to sell you a Buick” then, literally, the next 3 chapters are “but consider, the Buick gets good gas mileage!” Groan. I also caution people about the Cattell-Horn-Carroll Intelligence theory (yes, it is widely accepted, yes, I'm a psychologist), which he uses to claim there's a big inflection point in life where you transfer from fluid to crystalized intelligence, i.e. you start out your career as Steve Jobs and end up as Yoda. But, look at the curves (pp. 8 and 28) drop offs are far from steep and in fact most of the lifetime, career success and intelligence fall all within a narrower range for a long period. Brooks is also selective about giving examples of people who “fall off” in their latter career (no counter examples, like Noam Chomsky - oh, wait, Brooks' eyes might melt if he mentioned Chomsky, never mind, there are more). I mean, selectively choosing examples, we know that gambit, right? Ok, look, that was all unkind, and I didn't mean it to be, there is insight here, I very much resonate with devoting the latter half of your life to mentoring and teaching (something those of us who stay in the same profession for their work life and gain experience understand, we get all of one sentence at the end of the book, but, ok). You know, I'm sure, if I met Mr Brooks on a plane, we'd chat, maybe even be friends (level 1 or 2, not 3 - read the book) but, no, I wouldn't be the one complaining that my famous life was down the tubes... But heck, read it, it has some insights.

First of all: Giant monsters. Need I say more? No, those of you for whom those two words said it all, have already ordered the book and started reading. This is vintage light Scalzi. He had me before we even got into double digit page numbers (Character loses job, has to pay for crappy NYC apartment, complete with tiny drafty room and creaky floor, by a demeaning delivery job, second chapter pores on love for cyberpunk author Neal Stephenson ... and that's before any kaiju show up ...). In the afterword, Scalzi says this is the light fun novel he needed to write during the pandemic, and it is that. We're given a hefty quick and massive dose of the typical Scalzi sarcastic tongue in cheek take on everything, and my only minor complaint is that fun fades in the latter half of the book for a running around plucky kids save the universe comic book like narrative push - but, hey, that's not actually a bad thing. Recommend for Scalzi fans (alright you've left this review already by now), for others, if you want a quick, cute fun read, Redshirts style, go for it.

At first, I was so excited and delighted with this book, that I nominated it for an award. But something happened as I read, it began to feel like wading through mud, and I abandoned it halfway. But, me being me (and don't lecture me booktubers, I am what I am) I picked it up again, albeit years later, in my primal drive to finish every book. This is not so much a long book (although it is that, in excess of 600 pages) as it is dense with compacted ideas. It doesn't help that Harkaway doesn't feel any obligation at times to make it clear which character is doing what or who they are, and, sometimes, he doesn't feel an obligation for pronouns to have antecedents. The prose is like poetry at times, and chock full of allusions and references, from abstruse details of Greek mythology to Yogi Bear cartoons from my childhood. The font alternation is annoying and unnecessary (although it is a clue in lieu of others, as to what's going on). But that's all stuff that could either be overlooked or appreciated for something or other - the most difficult thing here is that it's impossible to care about any of the characters here, or to be even interested in what's happening to them. It's a wild crazy trip, but, alas, a trip where you say to yourself, are we there yet, Nick? Briefly, in a near-ish future London, a women turns herself in to the offices of a surveillance state run by the usual all-knowing computer AI. The Inspector, who passes for our main character, uses the cutting edge technology which merges her mind with that of the women suspect, now dead, mysteriously, at the hands of previous inspectors. Therein, we get a view not of that woman's memories but of a wild ride through numerous different stories in the distant past and remotely far future where godlike hive minds joust with each other. The fun in this book is the Martian Chronicles-like series of independent stories, connected with symbolism and coincidences which gets the Sherlock Holmes in you going. But somewhere along the way, to me it seems, Harkaway lost interest in the connections. I did finish the book, but at times I felt like I was dragging my eyes from word to word. I don't know what to say: I should have loved this book, and sort of do some aspects of it, but I'm left with a throughly ambiguous feeling (which will seem appropriate, if you read this book yourself). Perhaps I should re-read it, but I don't have it in me. The best character by far was the shark. Despite Kyriakos's last words that he didn't miss the shark, I did, I sure did miss the shark.

An enjoyable short novel (short novel - there's a novel delight in itself) about cyborgs, ecological disaster, and one of the most pervasive and long standing tropes in science fiction: the mysterious, evil, all-powerful corporation which covertly runs everything, all served to us in a Afrocentric, afro-futurist setting. The plot: AO was born with severe defects mitigated with cybernetic enhancements, even more enhanced after a later car crash, but she suffers extreme prejudice for being a cyborg, which culminates in her killing attackers and setting her on the run to the Red Eye, a desert vortex fatal to anyone not equipped with a force field (here, trendily referred to as an anti-aejej). I was delighted with this story out of my mind, some aspects, the plot and the tropes, channels your typical pulp stories you might pull out of 30s/40s American magazines, but on the other hand, it could also only be written now, in science fiction's current milieu. Another story in conversation with our past, good, bad, and reforming (redemptive?) in its gaze. And of course, the evil corporation sells everything and delivers through drones, ah, right wink wink nod nod. But, don't we just love this stuff. I do. This review was too fancy, this was one good fun story.

Malicious Intent is a “romantic suspense” novel, this was likely my first foray into that category, I had initially chosen it thinking it was a detective/mystery novel. This novel deftly weaves a suspenseful police procedure narrative (think: your fav police tv show) together intimately with a romance plot about reconnecting lovers. The suspense moves at a enjoyable pace, always keeping you going. Ivy is discovered by, partly but not entirely coincidentally, by her rejected but still cherished childhood boyfriend, who is now a federal agent - in the midst of her fending off mysterious thugs who are torturing her for information on how to break into her rising high technology start up. The novel proceeds from there, gradually revealing her past with its relevant links to the mystery, as well as her history with her former lover, which, as you can guess, is being rekindled along the way. I can't speak too much on the romance portion of the narrative, it struck me as a bit formulaic, but I did notice, and resonate with, the seeming identification of caring with good coffee and lots of cooking. The mystery was good, and well revealed, ending with a satisfying showdown – if police procedurals are your passion, then I'd certainly recommend this novel. It was a light, fun, fast read. I pick nits with several things, but they're not important. First, I reject the notion that there exists crab cakes better than Maryland crab cakes. I also was right on the borderline of suspension of disbelief in the relation between Ivy and Gil, I can't imagine any competent organization would allow the protection (and over-protection) of a federal agent directly with an intimate relationship, with the entire department recruited in some kind of gun toting family protection circle-the-wagons fashion. Gil's constant touching Ivy was creepy and his stifling constant protection of her felt a bit like stalking – this was not the author's intention (and indeed since we know Ivy's mind, it was not perceived as such) and here I defer to possible conventions of romance narratives that I'm not conversant with, perhaps. It did raise an eyebrow along the way, though. Not to overstate that, I was, in fact, delighted with the weaving of the romance with the suspense, and it was aa quick, fun read.

This a dark story of America rapidly falling into dystopia in all-too familiar fashion, while simultaneously a story of a group of young misfits overcoming odds to save one of their own from evil exploitation. Every element & character in this novel is rather transparently transcribed from current events and notorious people (risky on the author's part because it can become rapidly dated, and indeed, you can see that happening already). I would recommend this book because I really enjoyed it, it reads like Kurt Vonnegut with a shade of Steven King thrown in, and would no doubt qualify into the magical realism camp as well, if one wanted to shelve it there. Indeed, I enjoyed it, but, without being too critical, it did read like ersatz Vonnegut in many places at which I did cringe, a bit. I'd also warn readers that Hawley changes character perspective fluidly and without warning in many places, which kept me on my toes, and may not be every reader's cup of tea. The author wears his perspective on his sleeve, but, in a good way. Despite this and other nit picks, it gets the solid thumbs up for an engaging read.

This was an extremely enjoyable dip into literary criticism. Ball takes ahold of a focused definition of a ‘myth' (not mapping onto common language but also not idiosyncratic): a story which is somewhat ambiguous or ill defined often even in its first incarnation and so is extremely mutable, with numerous retellings, and serves as the projection of cultural themes (sometimes contradictory). Following along with each example of popular literature, and the chain of cultural effects, this perspective becomes ever more engaging (although not without some head scratching, I'm still trying to give Ball the benefit of the doubt in the claim that Batman is a myth whereas Superman is not). Anyone who enjoys reading the occasional nonfiction about the fantastic fiction they love will enjoy this one.

This book didn't make a big splash in 2021 (so far) but it turns out to be one of my favorites. An interesting mash up of the paranoid closed space vehicle (think: Alien, Solaris) with the creepy mysterious android theme (I thought of ‘Creation of the Humanoids'). There are a few head scratchers some of which are resolved in the reveals (e.g. why does the main character relate better to androids than people, why was she chosen for this mission). There were small and inconsequential nit picks too (gamma rays won't change your mood, probably will give you cancer; how can a misanthrope fare as a psychotherapist?) But, regardless, this is very classic space opera, notably the ending which, in prototype space opera form, has cosmic philosophical significance to the universe and the future of everything. I especially found the flashback narratives thoroughly engrossing, as much as the main narrative. It's probably a matter of taste, but I found the ‘laid back' manner of the narrative to be refreshing and extremely well written (sorry, I've had enough of purple prose horror) - and I think the narration was in-line with the main character's neuro-atypicality and misanthropy - it worked for me. All through the book I was imagining how this would look as a movie.

Andy Weir's “Project Hail Mary” - it's made every single best-of lists and a lot of non-sf best of 2021 lists from literary magazines - heck, it made Obama's best of 2021 list. Yes, I enjoyed it, it's “The Martian” Part 2 - and we know everyone liked that. But. That's also why I wouldn't put it at my personal top slot for 2021 releases - I felt like it was more of the same, it's The Martian but just add Friday to Robinson Crusoe - it's like Weir did his own fan fiction. But, that's why everyone likes it (he did reach in his 2nd novel, and everyone hated that one, so, I don't blame him for returning to form). And, face it, it's a heckva lot of fun - go ahead, I recommend it, you won't be disappointed, read it, and chances are, it'll be on your best list.