Sandy

DNF. I think it was interesting, but probably should have been a blog post.

What a weird experience to re-read. I last looked at Xenocide when I was in my early teens, and it's cool to see just how much it shaped the person I am today. There are lots of really good ideas in this book, but it's weighed down by all that /literature/ stuff. Like, having too many characters without anything to do. Ender has six kids and a wife from the last book, but only two children have anything to do here. The others are shoehorned in, and get into some arguments for the sake of Drama, but without any payoff to the actual story.

Ender's wife gets jealous and throws a hissy fit. But it doesn't matter, and it feels like Card remembered she was around and should probably do something. Thankfully she joins a nunnery and we don't hear from her again, which is delightful because she's a tedious, unlikable character.

There's a ton of this. Plikt is set up as this MYSTERY WOMAN who idolizes Ender from afar. But Card forgets about her, and she does nothing. We get a whole chapter introducing Valentine's husband only for him to wordlessly drive the car later while the real protagonists do things. She brings five kids along, but they are never mentioned again.

And the convenience of the thing! The Enderverse is dripping with Star Wars-style creative-bankruptcy. Ender not only happens to be the guy who saves the human race, he turns out to be a brilliant author and orator and diplomat and detective. He writes and pushes through the first inter-species treaty. And he carries around the only existing egg of a extinct alien civilization. And an intergalactic AI lives inside of him.

His sister is the best op-ed writer in the universe. His brother singlehandedly united humanity and governed it until the end of his life. OK fine maybe it's a particularly bright family. Sure.

But then he travels 3000 years into the future and marries a woman whose parents genetically engineered a cure for the virus that allows for all life on the planet. She was probably pretty smart in the last book but I don't remember what she did. But her baby daddy figures out all of the only known-living alien culture. Of their children, in order of descending age:

1. discovers deep biological secrets about the aliens; is later the target of a genuine, physics-defying miracle
2. designs a vaccine to a virus that saves all of humanity in the universe; also gets rid of the false gods
3. (we are told) is a great religious hero, who dies a martyr and is subsequently beatified.
4. has metal eyes and (we are told) is the greatest father imaginable
5. commits TREASON because she is mad at her mom
6. intentionally leads a pogrom to massacre the aliens. also invents faster-than-light travel.

Like what the fuck. The city they live in has over a thousand people, and the only other inhabitants we learn about are the mayor and the bishop. Why does everyone relevant to the plot have to be in the same family?

So there's lots of stuff like that. But there's much more wrong with this book. Card's religious overtones dramatically detract here. One of the book's big themes explores worshiping false gods, and then does a smash cut—without any sense of self-awareness whatsoever—to a Catholic settlement that it plays entirely straight. Like, to the point of absurdity. The aliens don't question the christian god. The fucking sentient trees don't either. There isn't even any lampshading here as to why the christian god is OK, despite the characters knowing about the false gods.

And then there's this excellent cliffhanger ending, where Ender creates new humans out of his mind. Cool principle and a great place to end. But the book goes on for another hundred pages and sorta kinda briefly engages with these extremely flat, and so, so tired, characters. Nah dog; everyone knows you end the book when they show up.

Oh yeah and did I mention the deus ex machina where they can just wish ANYTHING THEY WANT into existence? It saves the day, but is underwhelming because nobody did anything to deserve it. And either it's going to ruin the next book, or require ridiculous lamp-shading to prevent from doing so.

idk man. Xenocide has the seeds of greatness in it, but it's got absolutely nothing on Speaker for the Dead, and doesn't inspire me to want to finish rereading this series.

Eh. This book is by far the worst of Bukowski I've read. It's comparatively uninspired and despite having read it only a week ago I can't recall any of it. Don't bother.

Helped identify /lots/ of potential failure modes for my one-day startup.

I found this book in a little street library that was chocked full of books I loved when I was 16. Figured whoever had put it there had great taste, and that I'd groove on this. I was right!

It's been a few years since I'd voraciously torn through a book like I did this one. The first two acts are excellent, but doesn't manage to stick the landing. Everything gets tied up in far-too-convenient bows, but nevertheless it was a fun romp.