hc.newton

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.

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WHAT'S STATION ETERNITY ABOUT?

In the not-too-distant future, Aliens (of various species) have made Contact with Humanity. It's not unheard of for them to be seen on earth, looking around. Many humans are worried about war with the aliens—that they're around to invade or something. What they can't accept is that the aliens just don't think enough about humanity to bother.

Nearby—but not that near—is a Space Station where the aliens that Earth knows about are living. It's important to know that the Space Station is sentient. She's allowed three humans to live on board. One is an ambassador from the U.S. (you're going to spend a lot of time wondering how he got that appointment, until—of course—Lafferty explains it, and then it'll actually make sense); another is our protagonist, Mallory Viridian (more on her in a bit); and Xan, an Army quartermaster, Mallory met in college a few years back.

People tend to die around Mallory. Well, that's not exactly true—people in Mallory's vicinity have a tendency to be murdered. When that happens, Mallory is really good at solving the murders, too. Sure, she has to repeatedly convince law enforcement that she wasn't involved in the murder—but after that, she's great at figuring out who did the killing. Her presence on the Space Station is her attempt at staying away from people. Her thinking is that if she's not around people, they can't be killed. Yes, there are two other humans on board, but she avoids them as much as possible for their own sake.

But now...Eternity has decided to allow a shuttle-full of humans to visit, and Mallory is worried. Beyond worried, really. She tries to convince Eternity to call it off, but before she can...there's a murder. And before long, there are others—is Mallory up for the challenge?

THE ALIENS

There's a lot that I liked about this novel—more than I'm going to be able to really dig down into. But one of my favorite aspects of the novel is the alien races, their cultures, how they relate to humans, and so on. Aliens should be...alien. They shouldn't all be humanoid with a few cosmetic differences. Novels are a better place for this than movies/TV because they're not limited by an F/X budget, but still, we tend to get variations on a theme. Lafferty's good at keeping the aliens strange and humans should be equally strange to them (beyond a McCoy-can't-get-the-whole-Vulcan-logic thing)

A couple of examples to start with: there's the food on the station—a lot of it is lethal to humans, some is just unpalatable (think of the way 80s sitcom characters would react to the idea of sushi, and then multiply that). There's also the way way that the universal translation device (fairly reminiscent of Adam's Babel Fish) being implanted is a bloody and painful process—which is still not easy and pain-free by the end of the book. Unless I'm forgetting something (likely) or haven't been exposed to the right things (very likely), I'm used to this being a seamless, easy and pain-free process in SF.

We are talking about races here that can remember thinking of species like humans (and some others on the station) as "masticatables,*" before they got to the point where they saw them as sentient beings who should be treated with respect and on the same level. Physiology, communication, ethics, and worldviews that we can't comprehend easily. Not only are they only barely interested in dealing with humans (it's never stated, but I think most of Eternity's residents wish they'd waited a few centuries before making First Contact)—they're sure not going to go out of their way to make things accessible to humans. It's up to the three on board to figure out how to survive.

* Of the thousands and thousands of words that I read last week, that's probably my favorite one.

That said, they are pretty curious about humanity's squishy bodies full of wetness, our lack of symbiotic relationships (oh, yeah, I forgot to mention—every other race in this book is in some sort of symbiosis). Isolated creatures are hard for them to wrap their minds around. Throughout the novel, various characters repeatedly express how they can't understand how humans get by without a symbiotic relationship of some kind—in fact, they pity humans for how they must be isolated and hampered by it.

I could keep going here, but without writing a few hundred words on each race, I'm not going to be able to say enough (besides, that's Lafferty's job, not mine). Let me just sum up by saying that these aliens are alien, and we're pretty strange to them. I love seeing both of these in action.

A QUESTION OF GENRE

In my Spotlight post, wrote that Station Eternity is:

"a witty, self-aware whodunit with a unique sci-fi twist" (at least that's what the promotional material says—I'd call it a witty, self-aware Sci-Fi novel with a unique whodunit twist, if I was in the mood to split hairs).

Now, largely, genre is used as a marketing tool—how do we get this in front of the readers who are most likely to respond with their attention (and wallets, can't forget to get Lafferty and the publisher paid). As such, maybe it doesn't matter what genre it's classified as—and there's something to it. But genre also helps you talk about a book—the conventions of the genre, the way a book diverts from and/or uses them, etc. It also helps you find a book, "I'm in the mood for a good book," really doesn't get you very far, whereas "I'm in the mood for an Urban Fantasy," points you in the right direction.

So, Ace's marketing—and the title of the series itself—leans on the mystery. And I think that's fair. But I think the emphasis in this novel is on SF elements. That might not really be the case* in future novels in the series, but it felt that way this time. Lafferty's own bibliography and résumé are pretty heavy on Speculative Fiction, too—so it makes sense that the book would be Science Fiction-heavy.

* Pun unintended. But I really wish I had planned it.

Considered separately, I think the mystery part of the novel isn't as successful as the SF part is. That's largely because the SF aspects change the rules for the mystery. Thankfully, you don't have to consider the two strains separately—the book doesn't, there's little reason for a reader to do that (unless you're trying to talk about it in a blog post or something).

As I mentioned, most of the various races in the novel are in a symbiotic relationship of some kind to survive (and things do not go well for them when the symbiosis is disrupted). I think the relationship between the two genres here could be thought of that way—it's a mutually dependent relationship. The SF needs the mystery to generate and advance the plot, and the whodunit needs the SF to have a setting and for the characters to work.

Ultimately, I think a Mystery-reader who isn't that into SF is not as likely to enjoy this as a SF-reader who isn't that into Mysteries will. But I think readers of either genre who are open to the idea are going to find themselves really getting into this.

SO, WHAT DID I THINK ABOUT STATION ETERNITY?

I've said almost nothing about Mallory, Xan or any of the other humans running around this book—but this has gone on too long already. Also, most of what I'd say is best discovered in the novel. So let me just say that Mallory is a fantastic character, and I'll sign up for at least three more books about her now. She's this great mix of neurosis (tied to all the murders around her, so they're understandable), talent, determination and snark. We don't get to know Xan quite as well—but I'll eagerly take at least one more book about him, too. He's going to be able to be a very different person after the events of this book, and I'm curious to see what that looks like.

Eternity herself is a character I want to understand more—and everyone on board, too. There's a Princess, for example, who seems like good comic relief when we meet her—and stays that way for most of the book. Then she does something and becomes a whole different kind of character—she's still a hoot, but she's a whole lot more.

That goes for the series, too—after Lafferty has created this world and shaken it up pretty well in this book, I want to see what happens afterward.

But I've gotten side-tracked, I want to focus on Station Eternity—there's a lot of backstory woven into plot, and Lafferty handles it well. We learn enough to advance the plot and understand the characters—but not so much that she can't throw us a curve-ball every now and then to be surprised by someone. And she does—and I relished each of them. These events and the characters will keep you on your toes.

This is a funny book—in the narration, some of the situations, and the way the characters relate to each other. The circumstances around a lot of the murders that Mallory encounters, for example, are frequently ridiculous. But it is not a comedy—we're talking about a lot of murders for one thing. Then there's intergalactic intrigue, the dangers of space travel, and life-or-death situations all around. The interactions and histories between the various characters are full of drama and the serious stuff that comes from being a person, too. There's a great balance of light and darkness throughout the book and Lafferty writes both with skill and a touch of panache.

I had a great time with this book and will be thinking about it for a while to come—and as I've suggested, I'm eager to see what's around the corner. I strongly recommend this book for mystery fans open to aliens walking around, SF fans interested in a different kind of story, and readers who like good things.

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.

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…maybe the others were right. With Reacher running around out there, maybe the full ceremony isn’t the smart way to go. Maybe It’s time we switched to Plan B.”

“We don’t have a Plan B, We’ve never needed one.”

“Maybe it’s time to think of one.”

What’s No Plan B About?

Reacher sees something in a newspaper about a museum display nearby, so he goes to check it out. This leads to him being in just the right neighborhood to see someone being pushed in front of a bus. While others are calling 911 and trying to tend to the victim, Reacher pursues the pusher. This leads to a confrontation where Reacher’s size works against him for once, and with the help of his partner, the man gets away (a Tom Cruise-sized character probably would’ve got at least one of them). Before they slipped away, Reacher got a glimpse of something the man took off the victim that made him curious.

That glance starts a whole machine working—that man, his partner, and their bosses can’t have what he saw become public. They don’t know how much time he got with the information, how much he read/understood—but if he saw anything, it could make things go very wrong for them. So they dispatch another team to take care of Reacher (the two that escaped aren’t in any shape to do anything after tangling with our hero).

Meanwhile, Reacher tries to convince the police that the woman had been pushed. But there’s already a witness who’d been swearing she jumped, and no one confirms what Reacher saw. The detective in charge sympathizes with Reacher and wants to follow up on his statement, but his superiors like the tidy answer a suicide brings. He feeds Reacher a bit of information, and the former M.P. is off on his own investigation. When the new team tries to take him out, Reacher knows he’s on to something and digs in for the long haul. This will take him from Colorado to a small town in Georgia, home to a prison the murder victim worked at.

Two other parties are making a trip to that same town. One is a teen who just learned that his father is imprisoned there—in the same conversation that he learned his father’s identity from his dying mother. He steals some money from his foster mother (money that should’ve been used to care for him, I should note) and buys a bus ticket from LA. He’s in over his head, and as we follow him on his journey it becomes clear that the fact that he survives long enough to get to Georgia is a sign of divine blessing or dumb luck.

We also track a father out for revenge. He’s a professional arsonist—actually, he employs professional arsonists at this point in his career. Something happened that killed his son—the details are kept vague for the reader. The grieving father backtracks the supply chain that provided the product, determined to destroy the man at the top.

So, what did I think about No Plan B?

After last year’s Better Off Dead, I was prepared to put this collaboration/Reacher 2.0 in the “Not for Me” category. I’m glad that the brothers continue to have success, and that many, many readers are satisfied, but it might be time for me to disembark. I wanted to give them one more chance—everyone has an off-novel, right?—but I’d decided that this would be my last Reacher novel. This was good enough to get the brothers another. I guess my fandom is no longer a long-term lease, but the equivalent of a month-to-month rental.

One strategy I employed going into this was ignoring half of the names on the cover—this is an Andrew Grant/Child take on Reacher, not a Lee Child*. That adjustment to my expectations, helped a bit, too.

* I’ve heard and seen multiple interviews/features on the pair describing how they work together, so I know it’s not entirely true. But, it helped me.

The action was good—but hallway fights might be better left to Daredevil than print. I wondered for most of the book if they had one too many storylines, but I ended up buying into the idea. The first hundred pages were great (at least the Reacher vs. conspirators storyline, and maybe the foster kid)—particularly the first couple of chapters, it was a very effective hook. Pages 100-300 were good enough—some “meh” bits, enough good bits to keep me engaged and to push the narrative along, with a really nice uptick over the last chapter or two. The last 50 pages were rushed—you want things to move quickly in the end of the thriller, you need fast action to go along with the adrenaline of the big finish—but this was just too much happening, and it was hard to appreciate it all. There’s a fast momentum, and there’s careening out of control, and this came close to that.

Still, it was in those pages that I came around to liking the revenge storyline and getting why the Childs went with it.

This was a decent thriller with some really good moments featuring a character that reminded me a lot of that guy from 61 Hours, The Hard Way, and One Shot. It’s a fast, entertaining read that will do the job.

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.

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WHAT'S NOTHING TO SEE HERE ABOUT?

Over a decade ago Lillian and Madison were roommates at a boarding school for the upper crust (or scholarship kids like Lillian). They were incredibly close until Lillian was expelled. Even then, Madison wrote Lillian regularly and Lillian responded sometimes. They didn't see each other, only corresponded.

Madison's gone on to success in politics—first as a campaign staffer, now as the wife of a Senator, who is likely to be tapped for a Cabinet position. Lillian...well, she's not done really well for herself. The controversy over her expulsion followed her through school—she didn't get the scholarships she needed to get out of her situation. She's still living with her mother—which is a pretty contentious relationship.

Now Madison writes with a job offer/plea for help. The Senator's previous wife has recently died and he needs to take custody of their children. Madison would like Lillian to act as a governess (Lillian keeps saying "nanny," much to Madison's consternation) for them, at least until her husband's nomination is confirmed by the Senate.

There's a catch. The twins will sometimes burst into flames. Like Johnny Storm without the flying or the trip into space that goes horribly wrong.

They won't suffer any injury from it, but the same can't be said for their clothing or anything near them. Lillian needs to keep them out of the press, away from Madison's son, and hopefully under control. They want to/need to take care of the twins, but really don't want to have anything to do with them.

This will be the best-paying job Lillian ever has held. She knows nothing about working with kids—and the only models she's ever had for it are horrible. But she'll do whatever Madison asks (and she could use the money). Also, she knows what it's like to be a kid who needs a break—maybe she can help these kids out.

A PLEASANT TWIST

So you have a couple of kids who burst into flames from time to time. 97% of authors are going to devote the novels to the rest of the characters spending the bulk of the book trying to figure out how or why that happens, and what they can do to stop it/duplicate it/fight crime with it.

Wilson's in that other 3%, thankfully. Yes, there are some efforts to learn why it happens, but that's never the focus—and most of the time, those who are investigating aren't characters who were supposed to be that sympathetic.

The focus remains on the kids as kids—how does Lillian help them feel safe? Wanted? Normal? She does work with them on not bursting into flame—but it's not so much about the ability/affliction, but about helping them to be comfortable in their own skins—whatever temperature it is. It's about self-acceptance (which leads to control).

HOW WAS THE NARRATION?

Normally, it takes me a chapter or two to "get into" a new-to-me narrator, or at least to decide what I think of the narration overall. But Ireland won me over within the first couple of minutes—as a certain janitor says, "I don't know what IT is, but [s]he's got it."

She's a narrator I'll keep my eyes out for. I don't know that I've seen her in anything, but I saw today that she's going to be in the Justified revival—I'm looking forward to that.

SO, WHAT DID I THINK ABOUT NOTHING TO SEE HERE?

One of the reasons that I put off reading/listening to this book for so long, was that I remember The Family Fang falling apart in the end—or at least not ending as good as the first 80% or so of the book was*. I was more than a little apprehensive that the same thing would apply here. Thankfully, I was wrong.

* My memory of it is hazy, that's just the sense I have—I could be wrong.

This book started strong and kept getting better—it didn't end like I thought it would but ended the only way it could've (in retrospect). The only way it could've been better is for the middle bit to be longer and more detailed. These are fantastic characters, and the concept is just as fantastic. These kids belong in a speculative work of some kind—SF or Fantasy (Urban or otherwise). But no, Wilson puts them in the middle of a family drama. And it's great to see. Funny, warm, and heartfelt—Nothing to See Here scored on all fronts for me.

WHAT'S RIGHT BEHIND HER ABOUT?

Since Bree has moved back, her brother Adam has been trying to get her to go visit their childhood home with him. It's important for him to reconnect with her there, to get her help understanding the place where their father murdered their mother and then killed himself—he was too young to remember anything. He thinks it'll be good for her, too. Bree has put it off for months, but as the novel opens, they're finally there.

She's able to show Adam around a little before things get too overwhelming for her—as they start to leave they stumble on someone squatting in their old barn. There's an altercation, and in the aftermath, one of Bree's deputies stumbles upon some human remains that had been buried in a shallow grave.

It's a lot to ask of a novel's first twenty pages—significantly advance a story arc and introduce the instigating event for a police procedural. All without cutting to a song by The Who (although one, or the NCIS/Castle instrumental themes, would have worked well at the close of Chapter 3). It's the best opening in the series so far.

Given the evidence around the bodies, the killings happened long enough ago that Bree's father is a suspect—but there are others as well. Bree and Matt turn up a lot of old secrets and scandals in their hunt for the murderer. And many of those involve Bree's family.

Meanwhile, the County Supervisors are finally meeting with Bree about her budget—and it's not going well. It doesn't help that the squatter she arrested is the drug-addicted brother of one of the Supervisors directly involved.

Basically, this is not going to be the easiest period of her new career as County Sherrif.

I ADMIT TO SOME APPREHENSION

Let me preface this by saying that I like the series, and that doesn't change in this book. Still, I think the books could easily become over-dramatic. Leigh's avoided that, but there've been a time or two that I worried she might not. However, when I read in the description:

When he mysteriously disappears and Bree's niece is kidnapped...

I will admit that I got nervous. This could easily have taken on the air of some sort of Lifetime movie or something. Her niece and nephew are great as part of Bree's non-professional life—I really think things could get overwrought if they become part of the procedural.

It didn't. Not even close. I breathed a big sigh of relief. I still think it's a danger moving forward, but that's for another day (or not).

SO, WHAT DID I THINK ABOUT RIGHT BEHIND HER?

This is easily the best of the series—in terms of writing, character, complexity of the case, and overall execution. While I've enjoyed them all, the second and third books made me wonder a bit if the series could live up to the expectations set by the first—I'm not that worried anymore.

There've been three storylines that have been going since the debut and I feared Leigh was going to stretch them out another 2+ books before really doing anything with them, and she made noticeable advancements in them all—actually, in every ongoing story, but those are the ones that were starting to chafe.

I still want a little more for Chief Deputy Todd Harvey. If Leigh had given us that in addition to all the rest? I'd probably be raving about this. I'm still recommending it heartily, but I'd be doing it with an exclamation point if she'd done something with Todd.

There's some good sleuthing here, some great character moments, solid action, and even a little romance. If you like your police procedurals to have some heart, you'd do well to give these a try. I'm eager to see where Leigh takes these characters next, and I think you will be, too.

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.

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Before I begin, let me just say that you are wasting your time reading this post when you could be out buying or borrowing and reading this book.

If you’ve made the mistake of sticking around, I’ll go ahead and talk about the book, I guess. But really, your priorities are wrong.

What’s Chain-Gang All-Stars About?

In the not-too-distant future, laws regarding the incarceration of serious felons have been adjusted, and the Criminal Action Penal Entertainment program is born. Under CAPE, convicted murderers (many with other convictions as well) can be set free before the end of their sentence if they agree to participate. Participation however, could result in their violent death.

Under CAPE, these felons will face off one-on-one (sometimes two-on-two) against other felons in a fight to the death. If you survive a bout, you score some points and progress to the next fight (in a week or so). As you gain victories, you can earn points to be used for weapons, better food, clothing, equipment, etc. After three years, you will be released.

These felons are organized in Chain Gangs associated with the participating prisons. Links (as the fighters are called) in the same Chain do not face off against each other, and become (to varying degrees depending on their chain) teams—encouraging each other, giving tips, etc.

This has become the largest sports entertainment in the U.S. Throngs show up for live events or to watch a stream. You can also subscribe to almost constant live feeds of the Links between fights. Some fighters become superstars, with corporate sponsors, merchandise, inspiring their own fashion trends, etc.

Over the course of the novel, we follow (primarily) one Link from her initial bout to the final weeks of her time. We get to know her Chain—a couple of Links in particular—as well as Links from other Chains, so we can see how people join, survive, and (usually) die through this entertainment. We also get to know some of the executives and sportscasters becoming rich from this, some fans and subscribers—as well as some of the protestors trying to stop the program.

The Links

Most of the time we follow Loretta Thurwar and Hamara “Hurricane Staxxx” Stacker. LT’s on the verge of freedom, and Staxxx isn’t far behind. They try (with some success) to get their Chain to act differently, to help each other in ways others don’t. At the same time, they’re dealing with the emotions of LT not being around for much longer (one way or another) and Staxxx moving into the leadership role. We get to know them and their team, what brought them to this point in their lives, and what might be around the corner.

But we don’t just focus on those two—there are other Links, in other Chains, that we watch. Some as they make the transition from prisoner to Link, some in their early (and final) bouts. As horrible as the fights to the death are—and they are—it’s the time with these other Links that really cements the horror of what is happening to and through all the Links. There’s one man who spends a lot of time in solitary confinement and some of what he goes through made a bigger impact on me than the bloodiest death.

None of these links would claim to be a good person—well, there’s one wrongly convicted man, but his innocence doesn’t last long as a Link. They know they’re criminals, killers, and most would say they don’t deserve life or freedom. But none of them deserve this.

Everyone Else

As fantastic as the portions of the novel about the Links are, I think it’s these characters and seeing how they relate to CAPE that is the genius of the novel. A society cannot spend so much money (and earn it, too) on something like this without it shaping it and the people in it. Think of how so much of the US economy, news, and entertainment in January/February is devoted to the Super Bowl. Now magnify that, make it year-long, and add some serious ethical and moral issues.

The corporate figures are easy enough to write off as villains. And Adjei-Brenyah does that really well—but he makes sure we see them as human villains. The kind of people it’s easy to imagine existing given the right circumstances—these are not cartoons.

The protestors we see are complex as well—they’re smart, passionate people, who are trying their best to put an end to this modern slavery. They make bold moves, some stupid ones, too. But they also have to wrestle with the ramifications of their positions. One in particular is the child of a Link—she doesn’t have a relationship with him anymore, she doesn’t want anything to do with him but doesn’t want him killed in this way. But she doesn’t want him roaming around outside of a prison, either. There’s an honesty to the portrayal of these protestors that I find admirable—they may not have the answers about the right way to deal with serious criminals, but they do know what’s wrong and are willing to take their stand.

The portrayal that’s going to stay with me the longest is of a young woman who finds the matches distasteful—not necessarily morally repugnant, but not the kind of thing she wants to watch. But goes along with her boyfriend to placate him—he’s a giant fanboy with strong opinions and facts to back them up. He’s reciting them to her constantly, but she tries not to pay attention. She does start to get involved in the live streams about the out-of-combat lives of these Links—think Survivor meets Big Brother. She eventually becomes invested in some Links through those streams and that opens a can of worms.

The Endnotes

The Endnotes are a particularly interesting feature of this book—so interesting I’ll bite back my default complaint about choosing to use endnotes when footnotes exist.

In this novel, the notes are a fascinating combination. The first type are notes about the characters and events in the novel—a little more background, or other detail that doesn’t fit in the text proper. I don’t remember seeing this kind of footnote in a book as serious as this one, but Adjei-Brenyah pulled it off well.

The second type of endnote material cites laws (real and fictional), studies, and actual history surrounding the contemporary American penal system. In addition to being valuable information for the reader to have in general—or when it comes to talking about this book—this is a clever device for Adjei-Brenyah to keep it fresh in the reader’s mind that while this is a novel, it’s a novel well-grounded in things that matter—things he wants the reader to care about and hopefully take action in response to knowing this material.

So, what did I think about Chain-Gang All-Stars?

This is going to be one of the best books I’ve read in 2023. It’s well-written, the characters are fantastically drawn and depicted, the pacing is perfect—the story doesn’t stop moving, and the perspective jumps just draw you in closer. The moral and ethical questions are real, but not all of the answers are. I don’t know how you walk away from this book unmoved and unprovoked to think and perhaps act. There are moments when Adjei-Brenyah makes it clear that you can enjoy yourself with these characters—but there are many more that will make you hate this world. Most of those will remind you how easily it could be ours.

But you won’t stop turning the pages until the end.

There’s so much that I want to talk about, so many things that Adjei-Brenyah did that many writers don’t—or wouldn’t have thought of. But I just don’t have the time to get into it (or I’d ruin the experience for you).

Here’s one example. At some point around the 20% mark, we’re given an (well-executed and seamless) infodump, that largely serves to tell the reader that anything they’ve surmised about the CAPE program is correct (or to adjust any misunderstandings, I guess) and to give a few more details. A well-timed and well-executed infodump is great to find—one that’s largely a reaffirmation is even better. That affirmation is welcome so that you can move on with certainty.

The author talks about changes in his outlook on the American penal system during the writing and research he did for this book. I don’t know that I can agree with him on those, but it’s something I had to consider because of the novel. And I can certainly empathize with his thinking. I can’t imagine there are many who don’t think our penal system needs reformation of some kind—there’s little agreement on what needs reform, and less on how it should be done. But a side-benefit of this novel is that the reader will have to think about their own positions some. It’s not all a diatribe about our prisons—it’s a book that you can just read for the story—but you’ll not want to.

Lastly, for a book that’s about death—violent death at the hands of violent people who only hope to go on so they can kill again—the book is really about life. It’s a celebration of life, a call to protect it, a call to see it for what it is. It’s a reminder that “where life is precious, life is precious.”