Jason Paterson

I came to The Expanse fairly late - jumping in when five books were already published. That meant I got to binge-read those five, and by the time I was done, the sixth had been published as well. That worked out nicely, because Books 1-3 and 4-6 kind of form little “chapters” in the intended 9 part Expanse saga. With Book #7 and #8, I'm now feel like I'm reading them “real time”, alongside everyone else - which is kind of exhilarating. This is especially true because so far, Books #7 and #8 have been my favourite of the series. The arc from Book #1 to Book #7 is impressive. Looking back through the series feels like someone who has travelled the world reminiscing about their hometown. The Expanse has gone from a cozy three faction solar system to exploring literally thousands of habitable worlds. Book #7 introduced us to an older Rocinante crew, living in a new universe filled with people who are trying their best to adapt. This culminated in Laconia, one of those 1,300 systems, making a play for Empire... with the aid of protomolecular science.

(some mild spoilers ahead)

Book #8, the penultimate in the series, continues after what feels like a few years beyond the events of Book #7. Chrisjen Aversarala is dead. James Holden is captured and living on Laconia. Naomi Nagata is spending her days in a self imposed exile within a shipping container, doing her best to help aid a resistance movement. Amos is missing. Bobby and Alex spearhead a crew on a captured Laconian warship. Elvi Okoye is working with the Laconians to study the 1,300 systems. Between all their stories is Theresa, the daughter of Laconian High Consul Winston Duarte, who is being groomed for leadership, and perhaps something more sinister.

I loved the architecture of the story. Though every character is running within their own narrative, they all felt very connected, and the story of the protomolecule (and the “Romans”) seems to be culminating into something large for the next book. I'm excited to see where the crew of the Rocinante end up, even if I'm a bit sad that the end of their voyage is near.

Arthur C. Clarke was in his early 40's when he wrote A Fall Of Moondust. It was one of his first novels. I've never found Clarke's prose particularly elegant, but it certainly became more nuanced over time. Earlier work, like Moondust, is more mechanical and workman-like. It's got a raw quality to it. This is perhaps most evident when he tries to illustrate characters with detail, always seemingly written with a perfunctory attitude. The text is also riddled with the sexism of a middle aged white man in the 1960's, but Clarke tries to be as progressive as he can. Where the book really shines is in the technical rumination of the rescue effort.

Clarke was a game-changer with his early books, being one of the first to bring “real science” into science-fiction. Though the soviets had landed an object on the moon a couple years prior, it would be a further 8 years before the first human beings walked on the moon - so data was scarce. This is evidenced by the imagining of “seas” of dust. While there was plenty of fine regolith covering the moon, it didn't accumulate more than a few inches, or behave exactly as Clarke had surmised. Still, when his writing in Moondust focuses on the applied physics of the sunken Serene, it's highly engaging and entertaining in the same way Andy Weir's “The Martian” was. The reader might not be an engineer or a physicist, but most of us will understand the basic principles put forth by the writer, and that attention to technical detail mixed with the overarching survival story is what drives this book to greatness, and got it nominated for the Hugo award.

Kurt Vonnegut once said of Arthur C. Clarke's novel Childhood's End that it is one of the few masterpieces of the science fiction genre.

The plot starts as many sci-fi stories start. A fleet of alien UFOs descend from space and park themselves over the major cities on Earth. However, there is no attack. There are no lasers fired, nor any swathes of destruction. The aliens, it seems, are benevolent. They are here to help guide humanity through this stage of potential peril. Remember, Childhood's End was written in 1953, during the height of nuclear tension.

Nobody ever sees the aliens, however, except for one individual. Their plans are kept equally secret, but slowly and with deliberate guidance they build the trust of humankind. By the time they are physically revealed, around the halfway point of the book, it becomes apparent why they were so secretive. They are the very image of the devil - red skin, horns, a pointed tail, and leathery wings. However, since they had shown their goodwill through the years, little was made of their “coincidental” resemblance to an ancient symbol of evil.

The narrative was initially a bit difficult to follow, as it moved around through time, following a different cast of characters at each step (only occasionally revisiting previously introduced characters). The humans are drawn quite flat, but they serve mostly as two dimensional vehicles to tell the larger story... one that culminates in a series of heady revelations.

I particularly like the racial memory (or racial premonition) ideas and the ideas of collective consciousness, and how this might relate to our civilization's coping of life with the Internet - something Clarke certainly could not have imagined in the early 1950's. I enjoyed how he plays with time, whether it's through the narrative that spans about 150 years, or when he describes the effects of near light speed travel and time dilation. Every aspect of this novel is crafted masterfully, so it's easy to understand why many consider it a landmark of its genre... and why it may be one book I return to again in the future.

Though I quite enjoyed the first book in the Southern Reach trilogy, this second one took the plot in a much different direction, choosing to focus on the office politics of the staff of the Southern Reach, instead of examining Area-X itself. The language was still dreamy and ethereal, but I wasn't nearly as engaged as I was in the first book. I'll need to drag myself into the third and final novel, hoping it makes this previous one pay off.

International trade and logistics is something that's always fascinated me. Partly because my father was involved with sailing during the break-bulk era, mostly on the great lakes. Partly it's because I grew up in an era after manufacturing had mostly moved overseas. So, I've always been interested in shipping containers, and the impact they had on the world. This book helps give me context to that transition.

The book is a fascinating glimpse at how all this started in the 1960's, and the growing pains needed to bring the rest of the world onboard with the idea. Like most technological and ideological revolutions, it was fought by certain entrenched powers (existing shipping companies, railroads, truckers, unions) but when this experiment in optimization resulted in massive cost and time savings, there was no stopping it. As a result, our entire world changed, and Levinson walks us through just what made that possible. The book does a great job exploring the history of this transformation, even while getting occasionally bogged down with brief cost comparisons or standards analysis. I had no idea who Malcolm McLean was or how he ushered in this new era, but now, more than ever, I believe Containerization may have been one of the biggest advancements of the 20th century.

Neil Gaiman delivers another magical tale of childhood, mixing together bits of his own youth with delightfully wicked fantasy elements to create an emotionally engaging, mature piece of fiction. This is a shorter novel, but it is precisely focused, as Neil has trimmed all the excess packaging off the story, leaving only the sweetest bites intact. The central characters were all fleshed out fully, without many side characters entering or exiting the story, and the arc was beautifully executed with a tumultuous ending. Love.

I became acquainted with Kurlansky's writing when his book Salt was recommended to me. That novel was so expertly crafted, I found myself being amazed by interesting history just about every paragraph. It's the type of story you would want to return to several times. Milk! is written in much the same style, but isn't quite that engaging in practice. This may be because Kurlansky has peppered the book with a greater number of recipes, or it may just be that the history of Milk and dairy products isn't quite as sordid and dark as it is with Salt. That said, there's been a long journey between humanity and milk, whether that's cows milk, human milk, goats milk, or milk from some other animal... and I still had several of those “Oh Wow!” moments. While this might not be as epic scaled as Salt, it's still a strong labour of love, and worth reading.

Finished my very first reading of The Lord Of The Rings this week. I phrase it this way, because when it ended, I knew I wanted to turn right back around and read it again - so I feel like I'll come back to it in a few years. I loved this third book, and felt like it was maybe the noteworthy in terms of “new experience” for me, since the films deviate in many places from this one. Sam's more central role within the story here was delightful, and the entire post-Mordor return trip home (and dealing with what had happened there) was a nice way to close the narrative.

For anyone that's interested in the audiobook experience, narrator Robert Inglis did a fantastic job, and there's a good reason they are so revered. In the 1970s and 80s, Inglis wrote, produced and acted in one-man stage dramatisations of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. These performances have been described as “award winning”, and his book readings reflect this passion. I'm convinced Jackson's films took some notes from his reading. Though a more standard reading than a dramatic production, Inglis filled every character's voice with unique personality and consistency, and his singing of the songs (which both he and the producer take credit for writing the melodies to) was absolutely charming.

Coming at these books as someone who enjoyed D&D as a kid, and whose exposure to Lord Of The Rings has (until now) been almost entirely conjured from the Jackson and Bakshi films, I was amazed by how closely I recognized the world and characters of The Fellowship Of The Ring in the novel. Everything felt familiar. With The Two Towers, however, even though I could recognize many of the core events, I felt the world was much more lush and the characters were much more nuanced than I had in mind. This is where the narrative element of the written word upends the visual medium, more so than with the first book. The other note I have is in regards to the language used by Tolkien, which is so wonderfully delicate and poetic. It really feels anachronistic to the 30's and 40's era it rose up from. Now onward, to The Return Of The King!

It's tough to write a review of a classic like The Fellowship of the Ring. Who am I to opine about such a revered novel? This was the first time I've read it (having not been as much a Fantasy fan in my youth as a Sci-Fi fan), and I wasn't sure what to expect. My appreciation for The Lord Of The Rings was originally shaped by the 1978 Bakshi animated film, and then by the Peter Jackson movies, but I was amazed at how much deeper an experience it was to read this first novel, despite the faithful depiction of many aspects of the book in those films. Tolkien's opening to his opus is a treasure, rich with detail. The first 1/4 of the book, in the Shire, is a delightful, whimsical tale. The mines of Moria are even more darkly vivid than I expected. The forest of Lorien is invoked like a gentle breeze, rustling through the golden leaves of an autumn tree. The language is sometimes dated, and the pacing stumbles from time to time, but there is an authentic passion to every passage that makes up for any technical shortcomings. I'm very glad I decided to finally jump in and read this book... and am looking forward to continuing the journey through The Two Towers.

I've wanted to read Foundation for years. I had seen it mentioned in countless “best of” sci-fi lists, but reading it now, in 2018, I found myself just a little disappointed. I'm not sure why the reverie for this - one of Asimov's most popular works. The story is intriguing, driven forward by the ghost of Hari Seldon, a mathematician who develops a new form of prescience called “psychohistory”. Using this prescience (a kind of twist on “big data analytics”) he maps out the fall of a 12,000 year old Galactic Empire, and the rise of a new order of scientists who will reduce the 30,000 year dark ages to come down to 1,000 years of strife.

There are interesting sentiments that help propel this story. Salvor Hardin's statement that “violence is the last refuge of the incompetent,” is intriguing and fashionable in today's political atmosphere. I like the use of “Space!” as an expletive. I'm highly captivated by the concept of psychohistory to guide a civilization along a path of millenia.

...but the telling of the tale is very dull. The narrative is overbearingly cliche and the dialogue is tired and dated. Much of the book consists of two people discussing the hijinks that are transpiring on some other planet, or how to avoid them.

Great concept here. Poor to moderate execution. Sorry, Mr. Asimov.

A fascinating examination of gender, duality, and treason. The premise is that a far futured human, Genly Ai, is an “envoy”, a person sent to a planet to make first contact and recruit them into the “Ekumen” - a kind of federation of planets, mostly involved with trading ideas and information. Gethen, or “Winter” as it was named by the humans, is a cold planet - even in the summer, and covered with ice. Into this seemingly inhospitable landscape, Genly works with leaders and influencers to convince them to join the Ekumen. This is a feudalistic world that has not developed flight, or the concept of “war”, but they have other modern advances.

LeGuin uses an interesting language to tell the tale. Most of it is first person accounts, either from the main protagonist or his companion, Estraven. Alien terminology and wording is often employed, so the reader must learn some of this along the way to fully understand the story. This helps to enrich the already hauntingly convincing and wonderfully woven, subtle story.

Highly recommended reading for lovers of science fiction, and beyond.

After what I considered the most lacklustre entry in The Expanse series (Babylon's Ashes) I was thoroughly surprised and delighted by the 7th book, Persepolis Rising. Jumping ahead in time (significantly) the story begins by dragging the slightly older crew of the Rocinante back into the center of a new conspiracy that has been brewing in secret for a long time. The story takes some unexpected turns, and sets up what feels like a potentially wonderful and ambitious arc to take us toward the end of the series. If books #8 and #9 are anything like #7, we're in for a fine ride.

I'm not sure if I was just starting to get Expanse burnout when I got to Book #6, but I restarted it a couple times and had a really hard time getting through it on each attempt. The writing is expectedly polished, as always, but the plotlines seem to languish until brief moments of punctuation, and I would get through whole chapters not understanding why we were spending time on certain characters and their stories. In the end, BA was worth it. The ongoing story comes to a climactic conclusion and sets up a new stage of the greater Expanse narrative. I finished just a week or two after the release of book #7, Persepolis Rising, which has already jump-started my imagination in the first few chapters.

A good, entertaining read. It was likely hard for Weir to follow up a success like The Martian, but Artemis does a good job. It's not as focused a story. Where The Martian was a singular plotline driving everything (ie. Get off this planet.) Artemis has more intrigue and subtlety. The main character is a smuggler (who happens to know a lot about engineering), and while she is engaging and interesting, the rest of the cast feel very one dimensional. Still, it's a quick read... with lots of tense moments driven by (as was The Martian) an understanding of science.

From the outset (and without giving anything away) it was apparent in the first few chapters that the central conceit of Nemesis Games would be that each member of the Rocinante's crew would have their own fairly isolated storylines. Because of this, I was looking forward to learning something about each of their back stories. While all these seemingly disparate journey's end up being interesting and significant to the overall story, and while there are some truly big, dramatic moments in the plot - they are flanked by a fair number of passages that seem to drag. I'm leaning toward giving this one a 5 star rating, especially because of the final chapter, which was eloquent and poetic... but I feel like Nemesis Games is just a very strong 4, and is set to introduce a (possibly) great 6th book. Let's find out!

I thoroughly enjoyed Cibola Burn. I think it may be my highest rated “Expanse” novel aside from Book #3, Abaddon's Gate. This might seem strange, since perusing some found reviews on the Internet seems to suggest that CB has an unfortunate reputation. Part of me wonders if this is due to the audiobook being read by a different narrator... and I know that changing voices halfway through a series could be admittedly jarring. Luckily, I came to the book just in time for the new recording by the narrator of the rest of the series (Jefferson Mays). The other part of me wonders if it's due to the change in setting - as this is the first novel not set (mostly) in space, but planetside. Honestly, I found this change refreshing, and almost necessary to keep my engagement. I like the gentle reintroduction of past characters, and the use of brand new ones. It feels like the story is progressing nicely from book to book, and suddenly I find myself wondering about the setting of Book #5.

This is (to date) my favourite of the Expanse novels. I felt a little unsure heading in, because while Holden and crew were around, the characters I had grown to love in Caliban's War were nowhere to be found. This seems to be the MO for author James Corey, though... and he introduces us to a new gang of misfits and miscreants who get thrust headlong into a situation that is both awe-inspiring and action filled. It's a wonderfully paced, evocative piece of writing.

[book:Caliban's War 12591698] continues the story of Captain Jim Holden and the crew of the Rocinante after the events on the Eros space station brought the various factions of the solar system to the brink of war. Time has passed, and the crew is running odd jobs for the OPA. Meanwhile, we are introduced to three new characters. There's a tough Mars Marine named Bobbie, a grieving botanist from Ganymede named Prax, and a foul mouthed, cunning politician from Earth named Chrisjen Avasarala. The story progresses nicely in Caliban's War. We get more insight into some of the crew. Prax has a compelling story. Bobbie is potentially an interesting character, though she often feels out of place and doesn't get much of a chance to shine... but she's set up nicely for future books. Avasarala is a favourite here, slickly navigating through the politics of the ongoing protomolecule plot as Venus is closely being watched. Pacing is about the same as Leviathan Wakes, starting with some slow intrigue build-up, and exploding into fantastic blossoms of action in the second half.

I guess I've grown cynical and dubious in my older age. I really wanted to enjoy Peter Wohlleben's tale of trees that communicate, feel, think, adapt, and more... but he tends to use really flowery language without providing any kind of scientific citations, and for lofty claims such as these, I feel a need for more citations.

The Expanse series is astonishingly good science fiction. Corey paints a future that depicts humanity having ventured out deep into our solar system, but it's a fractured future, where the inhabitants of Earth, Mars, and the Asteroid Belt (“Belters”) find themselves having less and less in common. Ships and stations are cramped, dark, unfriendly places, and these are where much of the book is set.

This story is written primarily from the perspective of Belters, who feel forgotten and abused by the inner planets. It's here that the hunt for missing heiress Juliette Andromeda Mao begins, initiating a series of events that bring together a Ceres detective and a small crew of ice miners. Characters are flawed, and rough edged, but they find a way to come together against an unlikely and terribly mysterious antagonist and display the best of their humanity.

I like the way Corey writes dialogue, and how he illustrates mood through body gestures. Technology is treated very nonchalantly, and feels not entirely unfamiliar. Drama is used sparingly, and punctuates the story at well timed moments. The story is complex, and layered, but I'm excited to continue it.

Neil Gaiman has encountered the Norse gods before - using them in past works... but this is the first time he's been able to really indulge in their sagas. The book is arranged as a collection of short stories, covering various well known myths. Odin, Thor, Loki, Tyr, Frigg, Balder... they're all here, but their legends, while mostly intact, are embellished with Gaiman's unique voice and particular flourishes. Gaiman's gods often sound like school children, bickering over who gets to do what on the playground, but in this case, the playground is typically filled with frost giants or massive sun sized wolves. The book starts with a rather dense introductory chapter, but then flows into a set of short stories that are mostly gems. Finally, things escalate as you near the end of the book; as you approach Ragnarok... and beyond.

The first chapter of Tim O'Brien's “The Things They Carried” is riveting - putting some hard perspective on the front-end of a very personal set of short stories that are otherwise difficult to explain using hard facts. The novel isn't autobiographical but it is written as though it were non-fiction, drawing inspiration from the authors personal experiences in Vietnam. These are deep and metaphysical journeys into the souls of the soldiers involved. This isn't a novel about the war, but more about what war does to human beings. One of my favourite chapters takes place well before the war, as draft dodger struggles with his decision to skip the border to Canada. Not every chapter is quite this engaging, but overall there's a wonderful arc to this book, and O'Brien has a wonderful way of talking about the violence of war without descending into cliche or melodrama.

Absolutely gorgeous and thought provoking book about humanity's relationship with the only rock we eat. From the very first handful of paragraphs, it's obvious the author has a keen interest in the subject, and a sharp sense of humour. Every chapter is mind blowing. Ancient and far reaching, the story of this ubiquitous compound that has changed lives around the dinner table and altered the path of empires is truly enlightening. Highly recommend it.

Incredible the amount of detail author David McCullough is able to muster to flesh out this very compelling story of the struggle of 1776. I learned a lot, and developed a much deeper appreciation for some of the key battles and skirmishes of the American Revolution. From a literary perspective, the story wanes between pages of slightly too much detail to moments of sheer tension and enlightenment. McCullough tells a very human story, focusing on the known facts surrounding key characters, like Nathanael Greene, Charles Lee, Henry Clinton, Charles Cornwallis, William Howe, and George Washington. Highly recommend it for anyone interested in the period.