The Midwich Cuckoos

I didn't think I would like this as much as I did. I mean, ages ago, I happened upon John Carpenter's Village of the Damned—nice film, good premise, didn't think much of it—, which later I discovered to be an adaptation of a certain The Midwich Cuckoos, by John Wyndham. It got me curious, but that's all. It sat forever on my TBR pile—the mental one, I believe—, until I actually picked it up. And I loved it.

From the clever title to the brilliant opening sentence (“One of the luckiest accidents in my wife's life is that she happened to marry a man who was born on the 26th of September.”) to the amazing, truly great storytelling, TMC got me entangled in what I believe is one of the most underestimated science fiction novels, uh, ever. It delves into science, religion, philosophy, society, and raises interesting, thought-provoking questions; the main characters are charismatic, the Children are terrifying. It sure is dated, and I don't think its main theme is much of a novelty anymore, but I just can't believe how much fun I had reading this.

Knowledge is simply a kind of fuel; it needs the motor of understanding to convert it into power.

I can see how this was riveting back in the day. But for today's standards, does it really hold up that well?

The concept is great. Golden-eyed alien babies? Sign me up! However, this has got to one one of the driest writings I have ever read. After reading Ted Chiang earlier this year this pales in comparison. Nonetheless the plot itself had its good moments so it wasn't a bad experience in the end.