I received this via NetGalley.
It’s described as “Golden Girls meets The Expanse with a side of Babylon 5”. I admit, that certainly grabbed my attention. I’ll come back to the tagline, because I’m going to assume that it was invented by a PR person, rather than the author.
The context: many humans fled Earth generations ago, and colonised various planets. The action here is split between a station above the planet Ileri, and the planet itself – which is about to decide whether to join a conglomeration of other planets, or stay neutral. The story opens with several murders, all of which seem to have happened to enable the assassination of one government minister. Investigating that crime kickstarts everything and introduces the key characters, in particular private investigator Noo Okereke. Political manoeuvring would make for a nicely complex story by itself but of course that’s not enough – there’s an even larger issue at play, which is gradually revealed.
I really enjoyed this novel. One of the key things that intrigued me were the characters: they’re overwhelming female, and many of them are “older”: they’re not just out of school, or starting in their first jobs. Instead, Noo is a seasoned investigator; you can basically hear her going all “I’m too old for this shit”. The spy is likewise an old hand, and the police chief is, well, just that – she’s worked her way up the ranks. It was fantastic to have people – and let’s be honest, women in particular – whose expertise makes sense because they’ve earned it, who can draw on experience and hard-won judgement, in order to make decisions. And who know when they’re making a probably bad decision but are willing to go do it because sometimes it’s the only choice you’ve got. And aside from affording them that expertise, their ages were largely irrelevant; it’s basically not commented on by anyone. They’re just… allowed to be competent.
The one thing that occasionally annoyed me was the pace – that it felt uneven. Sometimes it seemed to go slowly for no reason, and sometimes it sped up so that I’d (metaphorically) blink and huge things had happened. That made reading a bit of a chore sometimes.
OK. So. This tagline. Look, I can see why someone might think it was a good one – it’s catchy as heck. But it’s just not accurate. I can only assume that “Golden Girls” was the only example the person could think of that features “old” ladies actually doing stuff, which is a whole issue in and of itself. But GG was about four women living together, with some knowledge of each other, and it’s centred on that idea of sharing each other’s lives. That’s just not how this novel works. There are two women who have worked together for years – but they barely interact in the novel. Older women are the focus of the action, and many of them come together throughout the story to work together. But that’s not GG. The Expanse? Well, only insofar as humans are off Earth and hanging out on other planets. But… no other aspect of The Expanse is present. And Babylon Five? Well, it’s set on a space station, which this is also to a great extent; and there’s a threat of war, but it’s from other humans. So. Yeh. Tagline is deceptive.
This really is a fun and intriguing novel. Some clever ideas, generally fun characters, it doesn’t drag (usually), complexity of plot matched with chases and explosions. No regrets reading it.
I received this to review via NetGalley.
I haven’t felt especially like reading big fantasy, or dragon fantasy, for quite a while now. Even when the author was Yoon Ha Lee, whose Machineries of Empire I love exorbitantly, I just thought… nah.
More fool me. Lucky that books don’t disappear forever, and that I have now been able to read this.
Jebi is an artist. All they want to do is make art. They apply for a position as an artist within the Ministry of Art, which will mean art but also working for the conquerors of their nation. When they fail to get that position, they must find an alternative option if they want to keep eating… and this leads to twists and turns they never expected, discovering friends and enemies and further difficulties of life in a conquered land.
This is set in a secondary world but it seems to me that Jebi’s home is analogous to Korea, with Japan as the conqueror, although it’s not a direct parallel. There’s magic, usually fairly low key and initially I wasn’t sure if it was intended to be ‘just’ superstition (later events show not). There’s also technology, sometimes working in tandem with the magic, as with the automata that seem like golems to my largely European trained eye; I don’t know if there’s a Korean or other Asian analogue. There’s tanks and guns but electricity is unevenly distributed – it’s a really interesting look at a world with unevenly distributed technology.… like our actual world. It’s also, as already implied, a deeply interesting take on the issue of colonialism and empire and collaboration and compromise and I really, really loved that aspect.
Brilliant. Hugely enjoyable.
I received this to review c/ NetGalley. Kinda glad I didn’t spend money on it… which gives you a hint of what this review will say.
Do not come for character development or realistic relationship building.
The overall narrative is interesting enough and the theory that drives the second half of the plot itself is fine. But the scientific consequence isn’t nearly developed enough; it’s a leap. I’m all for short sharp stories, no need for a trilogy, but this was just a bit silly.
Lots of spoilers follow.
Character development: there really is none. The woman, Ilona, whose obsession with finding her father’s remains somewhere on Neptune funds the first venture to the planet, and basically drives the entire narrative? So little development as to be non-existent. The old space-sailor on his last adventure? basically no development beyond that. The scientist who doesn’t actually seem to have any real knowledge of Neptune, but who is in love with Ilona after a brief meeting… is just a nothing. And even the scientist who joins the second mission, apparently as a government stooge, is just… a nothing. There are hints of the possibility of intrigue: is she deliberately seducing the other scientist? is she also just a pawn? WHO KNOWS. WHO CARES.
When Ilona and co get to Neptune they discover her father is dead – OF COURSE – but they also discover what turn out to be alien remains. And somehow, very quickly, it’s decided that these aliens were responsible for destroying life on Uranus (how did we come to that conclusion? who knows!) and also an ice age on Earth. As I said, as a premise I am SO HERE for this idea. Explore the repercussions of this for me – either on Earth or in the wider galaxy! … but that basically doesn’t happen. There’s a politician who is worried for his career and scientists who don’t like it – which again, cool! explore this angle – but no. No exploration. It just ends up being boring.
And the conclusion is simply appalling. Like, really awful. Ilona’s obsession with having lost her father leads to her bearing his clone. This is gross and nonsense and just weird.
I won’t be reading anything else by Ben Bova having read this.
I received this to review via NetGalley.
This is right on the edge of “too silly” for me. It mostly doesn’t fall over, but skirts precipitously close. There’s mention of magic to do various things (although it all happens off-stage) at the same time that this is a galaxy-spanning society with a multitude of species and, it seems, a variety of FTL options for travelling around. There’s a bit of prophesying going on, too, just to add to the mix.
The blurb suggests this is Farscape meets Great British Bake Off. Yes to the Farscape: improbably different alien species interacting, living and working together; up to and including a biological ship, now I think about it. There’s also a bit of Firefly. These comparisons are good for me; if you’re able to suspend your disbelief about humans and squid-like and bird-like and vegetative species all being in the same place, then you’ll be fine with this. The GBBO comparison is a bit thinner and honestly that’s where I was a little disappointed. Cooking is definitely a factor here – the protagonists are running a restaurant when everything goes to hell in a handbasket, and features sporadically throughout. It’s not a competition and there’s not much baking, and really there could have been more food in general. So if what you’re really craving is a pretty food-based narrative, I don’t think this will meet your needs.
The story is a fairly straightforward one – which isn’t a negative: Niko and her companions were soldiers, now run a restaurant, things go boom (not their fault, swear), and then adventures ensue. Including hijacking and piracy and identity trouble and pasts coming back to haunt, etc. It’s fast paced, there’s a good amount of banter, there’s engaging characters, and no desire to make this any sort of morality tale or a solemn exposition of galactic society. It’s a romp, and for that it was well worth it.
(It should be said that there’s some rather surprising violence about halfway through – surprising because up to that point it hadn’t been graphic at all – which I found disquieting because it seemed so out of place.)
All up, a fun read, and honestly isn’t that something we need right now?
I received this book to review via NetGalley.
This… is a really hard book to write a review on.
I could just say it’s amazing, but that doesn’t give you much sense of, well, anything.
I could just say it’s a book you have to experience to appreciate but… that’s so deeply a cop-out I can’t even.
So. Let’s try this.
Characters? Varied and intriguing and even though you’re with most of them for such a short period of time, I felt emotionally connected to pretty much all of them. I’m pretty stony-hearted so that’s saying a lot. Gender diverse (two, I think, non-standard pronouns), very little physical description so imagine what you like of skin colour etc (aspects of Chinese-based world-building like references to foot binding had some impact on my imagination).
World-building? One of those instances where there are so many little moments where something is mentioned and I’m like “wait WAIT what? You need to explain that more!” and the author just ignores me (unsurprisingly) and although I don’t fully understand some idea (which might be my lack of cultural context or it might be deliberate), it turns out actually I don’t need those details to fully experience the world and the story. Having said that, by the end of the story I had a lot of tantalising detail that gave me a very full sense of the world – far more full than might be expected from a fairly short story, and especially one that’s not entirely linear.
Plot? There’s one main one – Anima lives in Ora, and works basically as part of a surveillance system, designed to keep citizens safe. Anima meets someone very unexpected, as well as experiencing tragedy. But along with that, there are additional stories, told to Anima via representative objects… and I loved Anima but maybe I loved the stories more? Some involve great loss and some involve victory and they all help to develop a sense of the world in which all of this is taking place.
It’s SF and it’s fantasy. The writing is gorgeous. It’s utterly absorbing. It’s going on my list of things to nominate for awards next year.
I received this as a review copy courtesy of NetGalley.
It’s a far future universe where humans have spread to other planets and the Earth is basically a dump. It’s still worth visiting if you’re a historian or archaeologist, but you have to take drastic measures, like disabling your ability to access the network, and even physically covering up the jacks in your head, because otherwise they’re likely to be targets for malware.
Kas, a scholar whose background may get in the way of her achieving her goals, gets the chance to go to Earth and watch mech battles in the Drome (and it took me an embarrassing number of pages before I fully clicked that this was short for hippodrome or similar). From there, things go exceedingly not well, from accidentally laying a bet to being chased to meeting people she’s not meant to and getting on the wrong side of her boss.
Hard Reboot is fast-paced and exciting and a lot of fun to read. It flits between Kas’ perspective and that of Zhi, a mech pilot struggling to make her way as an individual in a society dominated by a corporate-or-is-it-a-gang. The narrative reveals teasing bits of what has made human society the way it is, but there’s still enough that’s not explained that it remains a bit opaque, a bit mysterious. Kas and Zhi’s interactions include an amusing level of banter, and the descriptions of the mech battles balance being precise in the mechanics with not going into the sort of boring detail that irritates me in some fight descriptions (my spatial awareness doesn’t really let imagine what you’re describing and also I don’t really care).
Definitely another good novella in a string of such from Tor.com.
I received a review copy of this novel from NetGalley.
I love Sarah Pinsker’s work and this is no exception.
We have always lived in a world where access to technology can determine what an individual is able to do. We’ve also been making body mods, as a species, for an awfully long time. And SF writers have been wondering about wearable tech, and body mod tech, and brain alteration, for a fair while. We Are Satellites fits right on in to that area of exploration.
The book opens with a new device, a Pilot, becoming available. The exact science is never explored but it’s designed to help with focus and somehow enable users to have ‘functional multitasking’. And to show that you’ve got one you have a small blue LED on the side of your head… yes, it took me an embarrassingly long time to realise this was a Pilot light. A Pilot is connected directly into your brain and this very idea is absolutely terrifying to me.
Pinsker chooses to tell the story through one family: Val, Julia, David, and Sophie. Val is a teacher; she’s anti-Pilot (and look, all her reasons are so completely mine that I can’t help but make her my favourite). Her wife Julia works for a politician and ends up getting a Pilot (and her reasons absolutely make sense, don’t get me wrong, it just makes me a) squeamish and b) cranky at the idea of feeling compelled to get something in order to keep up). Their son David also gets a Pilot, while daughter Sophie can’t because of her epilepsy. Pinsker uses chapters from the perspectives of the different characters to both explore the various issues and move the narrative along; one thing I loved is that it wasn’t a steady cycling through each character, but there were times when you got three Val chapters and then moved to one of the others. This meant the narrative felt less jumpy than might otherwise occur, and you can get to know one character that bit more. Using the multiple perspectives, though, also means the chance to get a more authentic exploration of having/not having a Pilot, and exactly what’s going on within the family.
The story arcs over several years, which means that Pilots have a chance to become more embedded in society, and for expectations within society to change, and for organised protest to develop too. It also means Sophie and David grow up and the family dynamics change. All of this makes for a narrative that moves along at a nice pace – striking the balance between interrogating issues thoughtfully, and experiences that compel reaction.
This is a hugely enjoyable novel and I wouldn’t be surprised to see it on awards lists next year.
I received this as an ARC courtesy of NetGalley.
This novella has gone straight to my “Possible 2022 Hugo Awards nominees” list.
Actually the first thing I should admit is that I don’t think I’ve ever read The Island of Dr Moreau, so if Gregory is doing anything more clever than the sorts of things you can pick up with a general understanding of the story (and he probably is), then I missed it and I’m sorry about that. HOWEVER, this does mean that you don’t have to know what the author is riffing off in order to appreciate this as a deeply funny, deeply interesting, and generally wacky story.
There’s a lot going on in not many pages.
It’s a detective story: there’s been a murder, and it needs to be investigated, and it is. Despite TS Eliot’s rules of detective stories.
It’s framed as a story being told to someone who knows bits but not all of a story. The narrator occasionally intervenes.
It’s definitely science fiction: after all, the members of the band that it revolves around are human-animal hybrids. And what a band they are.
It’s about music, and I’ve had Backstreet Boys stuck in my head half the day, THANKS FOR NOTHING GREGORY.
It’s about family and love and loss and identity and humanity. Stereotypes and terrible puns and growing beyond your childhood. Also, Las Vegas and fandom.
This story is one hell of a ride. I loved every minute of it, even when it made me feel a bit confused (that got cured), or sad (that didn’t). You should definitely read it.
This book was provided by the publisher at no cost.
I’ll be honest – it would be hard for me to give a completely objective review of this novella, because basically Murderbot can do no wrong.
Important thing to note: I really don’t think it’s worth coming to this book as your first Murderbot experience. In the first place, reading all of Murderbot in chronological order is just such an enormously rewarding endeavour that why would you not? (I’m so embarrassed it took me until this year to tell my mother to read these stories.) Secondly, of course, this is the sixth book: there’s so much character development, and narrative, that is alluded to here – you’d be doing yourself a complete disservice.
So. Read Murderbot. Of course.
This story actually isn’t the the one I was expecting; I had thought we were getting Murderbot and ART hanging out being snarky. Not that I’m complaining! All Murderbot is good Murderbot. Instead, we’ve got Murderbot on Preservation Station, being Dr Mensah’s protection, and kinda accidentally ending up as part of a murder investigation team (which it totally didn’t do, and you know that’s true because if it had, it would have done a way better job of hiding the evidence). As usual with a Murderbot story, we get a sometimes-hilarious look at a Security Unit’s impression of human security measures (very poor), its intense dislike of human interactions, and a longing to just be left alone to (re)watch Sanctuary Moon (relatable). There’s snark, and the figuring out of whodunnit, and some grudging personal reflection that Murderbot would honestly rather do without. Also the odd fight and some relationship-building that eventually works out okay.
Murderbot continues to be one of the great AIs of modern fiction. Its deep commitment to keeping up with its preferred media, its irritation at human foibles, and its exasperated habit of looking out for hapless humans make it deeply relatable in a way that it would surely find deeply offensive. I would read Murderbot’s reviews of Sanctuary Moon, I would read Murderbot doing routine security patrols, and I would read Murderbot inter-bot snark until the cows come home.
Sometimes I make myself feel guilty about my book choices. Occasionally it’s the actual type of book – although that’s less common since I taught myself to (generally) not be embarrassed about romance fiction. More often these days it’s about re-reading. Because how can I consider re-reading when there are books I own that I haven’t read yet??
2020 involved both a fair bit of guilt and a fair bit of “need comfort, shuddup brain”. I got to December and really wanted to read a certain trilogy but realised I had already comfort-re-read it that year. I found something else that was reassuring to read instead.
This post is brought to you because I just finished re-reading the Ancillary trilogy by Ann Leckie. It was the fifth time I had read Ancillar Justice, and the fourth time for Ancillary Sword and Mercy. (I seem to have not read Sword when it first came out, or something??) And there are still things that I had forgotten – details that delighted me again – and bits that I had forgotten. And along with all of that, the magnificent reasons why we – I – re-read: the comfort of knowing that the writing will be good. That (in this instance) things will work out ok, despite the dramatic and serious problems. That even though I’ve forgotten details, I know in the back of my head these are books that I have enjoyed and will continue to enjoy. I inhaled them, once again.
The fact that Breq refers to everyone as “she” because there’s no gendering in her language struck me again, not least because I remember it being one of the big issues everyone brought up eight years ago when it was published; this sort of recursive thinking is also part of the reason for why re-reading is fun – you get to reflect on your initial reflections and see how things have changed. I admit, I did once again find myself sometimes wondering about the gender of different characters, just like every other time, and then reminding myself that the point is it literally doesn’t matter. I was also massively struck, once again, by the imperialism and colonialism aspects – Arkady Martine’s A Memory Called Empire now contributes to the dialogue on this issue in fascinating ways that I still haven’t sat down to fully analyse.
The part that got me more this time is the delightful almost-domestic aspects that contrast spectacularly with the empire-threatening aspects. Breq and Seivarden’s relationship – its development, its purpose, the difficulty both of them have with it; relationships between crew and ship; and the actual familial relationships too. I find I am becoming more interested in exploring ‘found family’ in fiction, and I’m intrigued to realise how often this is part of the narratives I already enjoy.
This will not be the last time I read this trilogy and I am almost excited for future-me that I get to come back again.
(After finishing Mercy I then spent about an hour and a half faffing around trying to figure out what to do next because my brain really wanted to start re-reading Yoon Ha Lee’s Machineries of Empire series, and I felt too guilty to consider it. Then I finally gave in. And Ninefox Gambit is just mad, wonderful, brilliance (and I had completely forgotten how it opens). )