The Martian

If you are reading this book review, then you have me confused with Andy Weir and this text confused with the start of “The Martian.” I realize they are similar, as both contain words, but you should really be reading his book, not my review of it.

Not convinced? What if I were to tell you that Jack London did not in fact die in 1916, but became a time traveling nomad who ended up in 2012 where he watched reruns of MacGyver, caught Moon Race fever followed by the whole Mars One craze, then returned to his roots of writing survival fiction under the guise of Andy Weir two years later? If I were to tell you all of that, you'd say I was crazy, and I say you should read “The Martian” and you'd know exactly what I meant.

From our first few moments with the Ares 3, we know exactly what kind of book this is going to be. This is Robinson Crusoe on Mars. Except with more explosions (but not the Michael Bay kind), and no space monkeys (like the 1964 classic). The book is fast paced, the bulk of it in the first person in the guise of journal entries. I know that might turn you off - I thought it would turn me off. It doesn't. Mark is exactly the kind of smartass you want to read in the first person. The science in the book is as legitimate as Weir could make it, and everything is actually within reach of us today. Weir may take a few liberties, but there are no hidden teleporters or miracle techs, everything is very real and now.

It was fun, exciting, and I haven't felt this happy about a book in so long, I'm all confused inside and am unable to write a worthy review. But there you have it. I would add that I will be surprised if the Martian doesn't make the list of nominees for a Hugo in 2014.

This book review is based on an ARC that was sent to me by the publicist prior to publication on behalf of the FantasyBookAddict.