My name is Lianne, and I am an avid reader. When asked what I read, I usually say ‘words on a page’, since I will read just about anything. Fiction, non-fiction, literary, genre, graphic novels. Really, the only things I’m not crazy about (although I will read examples once in a blue moon) are romance, westerns, and hard-boiled detective novels.
Back when I was in grade school I started to focus on Science Fiction and Fantasy as my main reading. Don’t get me wrong, I read a lot of other things (back in the days when I was easily reading 100 pages a day), but those were the books I went to first. One of the books that got me hooked back then was Have Spacesuit, Will Travel by Robert Heinlein. I found his adult novels to be trying too hard to prove how sexually liberated he was (lots of incest, but when a man wanted a relationship with another man, the only thing to do was have gender change, which still annoys me).
But his juveniles were wonderful. People get in trouble, and use science to get out of it. This gave me a taste for hard science fiction books.
Zero Limit, by Jeremy K Brown, while not hugely innovative, scratched that itch. It has a touch of The Moon is a Harsh Mistress, crossed with the movie Armageddon, and a dash of modern politics.
The set up is a time where there is a moon colony. The current president of the US got voted in on a wave of anti-Moon sentiment (they come and take your jobs!!!). After election, he deports all moon-born people back to the moon, and refuses to let anyone leave the moon (which seems to imply the only people on the moon came from the US, and all travel to and from the moon goes through the US, otherwise how can he do that? It’s never quite fully explained).
Caitlin Taggart is caught in the middle. She’s moon-born, but her family returned to Earth when she was young. She was a war hero from time in the military, fighting in the Middle East, and she married (then divorced) and has a young daughter. She returned to the moon briefly to deal with her mother’s estate, and ends up trapped there by the presidential orders, with her daughter back on Earth with her no-good father. Caitlin makes ends meet as a miner, while trying to get back to Earth. She’s approached by the son of a Senator for a risky, not to mention illegal, plan to mine an asteroid with a platinum core. He even claims that he can get her back to Earth legally if she does this. She turns him down initially, but her ex gets tossed in jail, and with the threat of her daughter going into the foster system, she says yes, and her team goes with her.
Of course the equipment is rickety, and pretty much as soon as they reach the asteroid, things go horribly wrong, and not only are they stranded, the asteroid is now headed straight towards Earth, and the president wants to use a super-duper giant nuke to destroy it. And them.
Other than Caitlin, the rest of the characters are only just barely sketched out. The way one behaves at the end just didn’t entirely make sense to me. But still, the whole ‘how can we deflect the asteroid just enough to save the planet and everyone on it’ element made it a fun read. I actually have one of his other books in my Kindle account, so I look forward to seeing what else he can do.
Basically, a fun, but mostly fluff, read.
The Dewey 24 hour Readathon is starting in a minute. This time, I have less time, since my family is having a brunch get together today, so that’s a several hours break in the middle.
Outside of that, I plan on binging on Tor.com novellas, an essay collection, and an audio book. First up, Dusk of Dark or Dawn or Day, by Seanan Mcguire. The lives of ghosts in New York City.
Time to head over to Dad’s. Since I will be driving, I am switching to River of Teeth, bu Sarah Bailey. Hippos in the American South, and a cowboy historical. Can you get sillier than that?
Home from a delicious brunch, and resisting the urge to take a nap. I’m 25% of the way through River of Teeth, but now I’m switching back to the McGuire.
I’m now 90% through the McGuire (and it’s a fantastic read), but brunch is weighing down my eyelids, so I’m going to crawl into bed for a couple of hours. I’ll see how much of the Gailey I can listen to without losing track of the story.
The nap helped. I am now halfway through River of Teeth. Time to finish Dusk or Dark or Dawn or Day, then into the next novella.
Seanan McGuire made me cry. Not for the first time, and I doubt for the last. I then moved on to Cry Murder! in a Small Voice, by Greer Gilman. It’s a short chapbook mystery with William Shakespeare, but Gilman’s beautiful prose makes it a leisurely read. I’m only 25% into it so far.
I’m at 55% in Cry Murder. The book is only 62 pages, but the language deserves to be read slowly and with great attention.
85% done. I’m almost to the end of Cry Murder. Then I’ll go back to River of Teeth. I want to finish it before tackling the next book.
I finished Cry Murder! In a Small Voice, and am now 67% through River of Teeth. I will finish it before I consider bed.
I finished River of Teeth, and was tempted to jump straight into the sequel, but instead I decided that after dark fantasy, historical mystery, and alternative history it is time for an SF book, so I am now 12% into Binti by Nnedi Okorafor.
I am 58% of the way through Binti, and my Kobo has 11% battery left. My eyes are getting tired, so I figure I’ll go to bed either when I finish the book, or when I have to p,ug in to recharge.
I just finished Binti as my Kobo started complaining about low battery. That, plus the burning eyes, are my cue to go to bed. Ill set the alarm early enough to get up and read some more before time runs out at 8 am. I had that long break for the family outing, but still I’ve read 405 pages in the Readathon so far.
Time for the last push. I’m going to try to finish one last Tor.com novella, Forest of Memory by Mary Robinette Kowal. The length is one I should be able to finish in two hours.
One hour left to go, and I’m 62% through, so I will definitely finish this last novella. It’s an interesting little mystery story set in the future, one where everyone is connected to something like the internet, but there are (mostly) wild spaces. While the narrator is in danger, the world she lives in seems quite hopefull.
8 am (well not quite)
I finished Forest of Memory, and now I want to go to Audible and buy all the METAtropolis shared world anthologies that it’s a part of. I didn’t realize what it was a part of going into the novella.
Now I’m going to end off the 24 hour period with a little fan fiction reading, then go back to bed for a few hours.
Everyone has their guilty pleasures. Romances, westerns, and the like. For me, it’s disaster novels. The type that get turned into cheesy movies, like Armageddon, San Andreas (which combined a movie I loved, a movie I liked, and a movie I hated. Seriously, I would have loved the movie if it was all about the scientist and the reporter, trying to warn people in time to save themselves, with a touch of the girl and the two brothers. Drop Dwayne Johnson’s plot out the window, please).
So based on that love, I had high hopes for Wave of Terror when I saw it on NetGalley. I’ve heard of the La Palma earthquake danger before going in, and the idea of terrorists trying to cause a tsunami-causing earthquake had a lot of potential.
But the characters, and the story were very disappointing. The astronomer who figures it out jumps to conclusions and runs to the CIA way too fast to be believable. And towards the end, she magically gains a lot of geology knowledge that made no sense. And the romantic interest/government agent was ridiculously fast to run out on his FBI job without permission to find her after reading her packet of information that everyone dismisses because they say she is an ‘astrologer’.
By the time I reached the 1/3 mark, I was skim reading, waiting for the disaster promised by the title/cover/description. By the time I reached the 2/3 mark, I realized that there was going to be no disaster (other than the book itself). Still, I was far enough that I felt committed to finishing the book.
In the end, I felt that the story idea had a lot of potential, but the characters killed it. And the cover, with the giant wave dwarfing the Statue of Liberty made promises that were never fulfilled. It left me disinclined to reading any of the other books by the author.
For a disaster novel that follows through better on its promise, I would recommend Rogue Wave, by Boyd Morrison instead.
After that, to indulge my love of disaster stories, I switched over to reading The Great Quake: How the Biggest Earthquake in North America Changed Our Understanding of the Planet by Henry Fountain, about the 1964 Good Friday quake in Alaska that caused massive destruction, and brought the science world into (mostly) full acceptance of the idea of plate tectonics and continental drift.
Did you know that well into the twentieth century, the prevailing theory of earthquakes and mountain formation was that the Earth was cooling and as it did, the surface cracked and pushed up, forming mountains? It sounds crazy now, but at the end of the nineteenth century, people said the same thing about the idea that the solid surface of the planet was actual plates moving around.
The 1964 quake caused a tsunami that killed people as far away as California. Nearly all of Alaska’s infrastructure (roads and railways) were destroyed. The only reason that the death-toll was relatively low (just over 100) is because Alaska was so sparsely populated.
The book jumps around a fair bit, covering the people who originally pushed the idea of continental drift, the man who was part of the team surveying the damage caused by the quake and figuring out what happened. There’s a lot of Alaskan history, and the story of the small town that suffered the worst losses, mainly through the eyes of the young teacher in the one-room schoolhouse that was the only structure to survive the wave. The stories of the people who died and who survived were heartbreaking.
The story was fascinating, and the people who appear for only a few pages were better formed than the main characters in Wave of Terror, and not just because they are the stories of real people. If Jefferson had been able to put as much life into his characters, I would have forgiven the lack of actual wave.
Last year I started actively reading poetry, in a way I haven’t since I was in my high school English class. I’d read a number of poetry book in the decades (oh dear lord, has it really been decades) since then, discovering Rumi and Mary Oliver, the last year and a bit has led me to other poets, some of which I have liked, and some did absolutely nothing for me (There’s a collection that has been on bestseller lists for a long time that I found mostly annoying).
BL Bruce’s award winning first collection, The Weight of Snow, was definitely a book I liked. The poems, for the most part, seem to occupy the border between wild lands and inhabited lands. It is very nature based, leaving an impression of winter along with late fall and early spring. You know, wet and muddy, and grey. Not all the poems fit into that season, so maybe I’m influenced by the title and the current season (in Ottawa, we are expecting snow and ice and rain this weekend, even though it is mid-April)
It also deals a lot with love, but similarly, it leaves a heavy impression of a love whose days are numbered. I don’t know what the author’s personal relationships were like, but the poems left me with a feel of two women living with the knowledge that despite their love, the relationship is crumbling around the edges.
The feeling I was left with at the end was a soft melancholy. Not the depressing type, but the melancholy that leaves you embracing flashes of blue sky because it is so intensely blue, and who knows what the sky will be like tomorrow.
As part of my reading goals for the year, I added an additional goal of trying to understand people I fundamentally disagree with. I started by listening to the audiobook version of Anne Coulter’s In Trump We Trust, which just left me wanting to throttle her (Note: she narrates her own book). Mind you, I will freely admit to being pretty darned lefty, even for a Canadian, and my two best friends are an Argentinian and an Indian (Asian, that is) who both immigrated to Canada as children and became citizens, so Coulter’s constant arguments about immigrants (both those who came through legal means and illegal means) being the root of everything bad in the US made me wonder about her sanity.
A better choice for reading was Everything You Love Will Burn, by Vegas Tenold. The author is a journalist, born in raised in Norway, so his point of view was easier to get into. He decided to look into the state of white nationalist organisations. He started long before Trump was even being talked about as a candidate for the 2016 presidential race. His way in was a then fairly minor nationalist, Matthew Heimbach, who helped him with contacting other groups, always openly as a journalist trying to understand them. Heimbach has grown in prominence over the years, as Tenold followed him around from time to time.
He also gets into the history of white supremacist organisations, such as the KKK, and looks at modern variations of the KKK and skinheads and neo-nazis, and other organisations that run the gamut from get rid of non-whites in… permanent ways, to whites should control everything, and finally calling for the complete separation of the races into different countries (much like the post-civil war push to get freed slave to chose to go back to Africa, resulting in the country Liberia).
Heimbach falls into the last category. He doesn’t spout white supremacy, but he thinks that whites should have their own nation, while the other races should be somewhere else (where isn’t really defined). He actually comes across as a pretty easy going kind of guy. Reasonable, at least until he decides to start talking about why the Holocaust couldn’t possibly have happened.
One thing that really stands out in the book is the comparison of the difference from the white supremacists and nationalist organization of the early to mid-twentieth century, which was their heyday, to where they are today. Today, by the end of the book, seemed pretty… sad. And pathetic. Despite the events in Charlottesville, where a woman was killed, and Trump refused to denounce the alt-right protesters whose actions led to her death, it appears that white nationalists have trouble getting any real numbers showing up for protests, and the ones who usually do show up are ones that just wanted a fight.
Basically, my takeaway from the book was that despite the occasional resurgence from people like Matthew Heimbach and Richard Spence, these organizations seem to be slowly fading away, since that majority of the generation coming up don’t agree with their attitudes.
And even those new faces of the movement are running into problems. Richard Spencer thinks that antifa makes college appearances no fun, and he can’t find a lawyer for a suit brought against him over the Charlottesville incident. And Matthew Heimbach was recently arrested for domestic violence, after a fight with the co-founder of his organisation over Heimbach’s affair with the man’s wife, which turned into an attack on his own wife.
If these people are the future of white nationalism, I would expect to see them continue to fade.
I missed posting last week, but I’m going to blame it on the fact that I was reading/listening to four books at the same time (a thriller, a horror novel, non-fiction, and a fantasy novel). With that many books on the go, I didn’t finish any of them, and due to work, I just didn’t have the energy to write up something on a past read. But I finished a book today, and I will be finishing a second tomorrow, since I now have a bit more time and energy to read.
The book I just finished is Ararat, by Christopher Golden. Golden is a writer I’ve seen a lot of, since he writes tv tie-ins and comic books, but I’ve actually only read one of his books previously, Snowblind. Snowblind and Ararat have a lot in common, when you examine them. Both involve people trapped by winter weather, dealing with dark forces that possess people and make them do awful, violent things.
In Ararat, the scenario is that an avalanche on Mount Ararat, where Noah’s ark supposedly came to land, has uncovered… a very large boat. It’s never positively identified as Noah’s ark, but it is certainly inferred. And the expedition that reaches it first, led by Adam, a Jew, and his fiancée Meryem, a Muslim, finds not just a boat with remains on board, there is also a box sealed with bitumen, and when the box is opened, they find a skeleton inside.
A skeleton with horns.
A last group joins the expedition — a DARPA scientist in disguise, a UN representative, and a Catholic priest — just as a blizzard cuts them off, far from any form of help. Everyone is on edge due to the implications of the skeleton, and conflicts seem amplified, until people first start disappearing, and then murdering each other. At this point, it becomes a fight for survival, where the only way to escape is to climb down a treacherous mountain in bad weather.
I really enjoyed this book. Like Snowblind before it, it builds the tension masterfully until the horror beaks out. A few things were a little too on the nose, like having a Jew and a Muslim couple, as well as the priest, present, making sure that all major religions in the region represented. Still, I can forgive that, since all three are well-drawn, sympathetic characters with faults.
I look forward to seeing what Christopher Golden does next. I just really hope that it’s set someplace tropical.
Now I just need to finish the rest of the three books on the go, and try not to get so overloaded again. I should be finishing the next book in the next couple of days. But I also have a reserved book at the library that needs to be picked up by Tuesday.
So many books, so little time.
Nemo Rising popped up at me on NetGalley, since I’ve seen various versions of Nemo and the Nautilus through the years, and I thought a new version of a sequel focused on the US would be interesting. This one turned out to be a double-dose of Verne, although I didn’t realize it when I was reading that it was a cross-over with another Verne anti-hero. When the villain revealed his real name, I had the feeling that I should know who he was, but it wasn’t until the author’s notes at the end that I figured out who he was. Mind you, he comes from some of Verne’s lesser known works. Seriously, everyone knows 20 Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, Around the World in 80 Days, and Journey to the Centre of the Earth. Those three in particular have been adapted for film and television many times over the years.
But Robur the Conqueror? That was one I’d never heard of.
Basic plot of the book is that strange sea creatures are attacking ships in the Atlantic, and the world is blaming the US, recently out of their civil war. President Ulysses S Grant finally decides to go with a dangerous plan to prove that his country is not behind the attacks: Nemo is in a US prison, and his aide’s daughter has been repairing the Nautilus. They release Nemo from prison, and with the daughter, Sarah, as part of the crew, they send Nemo to find out who is behind the attacks, and prove the US innocent.
While Nemo and a possibly not very loyal crew head out to fulfill their side of the bargain, with Sarah tasked with killing Nemo if he strays, Grant and Duncan (Sarah’s father) work the diplomatic side, despite sabotage and assassination attempts.
From the description, you might expect a book full of action and thrills, and I had high hopes, but unfortunately the end product didn’t entirely deliver. There was action, and there was thrills in places, but the events were so muddled that I had trouble figuring out the overall plot. The ideas were great, but the end result was a bit of a muddled mess.
I might recommend this to a Jules Verne enthusiast, but definitely not to the general reader with only a vague knowledge of the man’s writings.
On the other hand, I might take a look at Robur the Conqueror, if I can find a copy.
I’m going to throw something different out here: Instead of reviewing a book, I am going to review an ereader. Specifically, my brand new (since Christmas) Kobo Aura One.
I have a long history with ereaders, since I am an avid reader, and when travelling on vacation, the weight of the books I take with me is ridiculous. For example, when I graduated from University, my father and I went to Jamaica for a week. I took twelve books with me for the week (including one large hardcover), and I was reading the last book on the flight home. So, when the earliest ereaders came along, I was all for it.
My first ereader was the first dedicated ereader: the second generation Rocket eBook. I ordered it by mail from the US shortly before NuvoMedia (the parent company) was bought by Gemstart-TV. A couple of years later, it went out of production. I didn’t buy many books from them, but I did buy from Baen Books (their ebook sales from the beginning could be downloaded in all sorts of formats, which became helpful later). I also loaded lots of fanfiction onto it for reading. That device cost me about $500 dollars. It was a little bulky, due to the battery of the time, and the screen was a glowing green screen with black letters (check online and you’ll find lots of screenshots).
Then, about four years later, I bought a Sony eReader, after the arrival of eInk. I loved it. It was more like reading paper, and the battery lasted more than a week. Plus, I could load library ebooks onto it. And handy enough, I could go back and re-download all my Baen purchases in the new format. At first, Sony had their own format for files, but eventually they moved over to the more standard epub. I bought most of my book from Kobo, though, since the prices were in Canadian dollars, and I could download them and transfer them to my Sony. This device cost me $400, and I was more than happy to pay that.
And about four years after that, I decided to upgrade again. This time I went to the Kobo HD. It had a larger screen, higher resolution, and the battery would generally last about three weeks. And when I configured it, it promptly downloaded all the books I had previously bought. It was fantastic. Okay, I quickly ran out of space, but it also allowed for a memory card to expand the space. This was one of their higher-end ereaders, and cost $175. After that, I also bought a Kobo Mini for my niece (who wanted one, but rarely uses it)
But four years later (notice a trend here?), Kobo tempted me to upgrade again. Last year, they came out with the Kobo Aura One, which is their highest priced ereader ($250), but offered a feature I really appreciated it: a tie-in to the Overdrive account for your library. When you search the Kobo store on the device, you can also check to see if the book is available from your library, right from the results, and check it out or reserve it. And if you check the book out through the library’s web page, all you have to do is sync your Kobo, and it will download to the ereader. This feature is only available on this edition of the Kobo, but I wouldn’t be surprised to see it become standard. It’s the best new feature I could hope for.
It’s also a waterproof ereader (one review I read talked about submerging it in a bowl of water for an hour and a half, and their only problem is that the touch screen didn’t work under water), so I finally have an ereader that I am willing to read in the bathtub, since if I drop it, it’s not going to be destroyed. It still took a lot of convincing myself before I did that the first time.
And with the amount of reading I do, even with periodically connecting to WiFi to download material, one battery charge has lasted almost four weeks for me. Without turning on the WiFi, it would probably last me a full month, and I do a lot of reading. I’ve also reached the point in my life where my back can be a little twitchy, and where once upon a time I would have always had three books in my bag at any time, now I just have the ereader, which weighs less that most trade paperbacks, and it currently has 1459 books on it (yes, it does. Those daily deals are impossible to resist, and I keep telling myself I’ll read them all. Eventually).
I’ve seen lots of articles about how ebook sales are falling, and ereaders are boring. Everyone reads on their phones, they say. Well, I now buy more ebooks than paper (sorry, space and weight requires it). And as for reading on my phone, it makes my eyes ache, staring at a backlit screen for long periods of time. Honestly, if they told me that production of all eInk ereaders would be coming to an end, I would probably run out and spend a thousand dollars to buy a bunch of backups, and keep them in the back of my closet.
In short, I love eInk-based eReaders, and of the dedicated eReaders I have owned over the last decade and more, the Kobo Aura One is as close to perfect as I can imagine.
Until the next time they come up with an improvement I can’t do without.
Dan Brown has been a contentious figure for years. His Robert Langdon series has been a best-seller, if not always well-reviewed. His first novel in the series, Angels & Demons, wasn’t a huge seller, but then came The Da Vinci Code, which was. I read the book shortly before the movie came out, and it was a fast, breezy read. It also felt very familiar when I read it, since I had read Holy Blood, Holy Grail year before it. I certainly wasn’t all that surprised when the authors of that book sued him for not bothering to even acknowledge that he was using their book as a basis (he claimed that he’d done the same sort of research as they did, and he did win the case).
Then came The Last Symbol, which I have to say was a turkey. Seriously, it was bad. Inferno was better, and surprised me by ending on a world-changing note that no one knows about. When I heard that a new book in the series was coming, I wondered if they would address the outcome, but wasn’t surprised that it was ignored. Probably it’s too soon for the results to have been noticed.
Dan Brown’s writing is very formulaic. He’s found a formula that works from him, and he doesn’t really deviate from them. Robert Langdon, accompanied by a younger female companion (at least the one in The Last Symbol was his age), is hunted from symbolic location to location. There’s always good guys who turn out to be bad guys, and bad guys who think he’s committed a crime who become allies. Other than Inferno, there is a fringe religious sect on the opposite side.
Oh yeah, and Langdon swims in a pool at some point, and there are references to his Mickey Mouse watch.
So, in Origin we have: a murdered scientist sends Langdon on the run with his companion, this time a museum curator who is engaged to the next king of Spain. They run from location to location, usually a building designed by Gaudi, while hunted by the assassin and the palace guard. The palace may be involved, and have announced that Langdon kidnapped the future consort. And this time, the religious sect is the Palmarian Church.
I enjoyed listening to the audiobook of this volume, but the ending left me cold. Basically, the whole book was for the purpose of delivering a lecture at the end. And the only reason that there is a mystery is because Kirsch, the dead man, never read Asimov. Seriously, the entire plot boils down to a very smart man doing something stupid. If he hadn’t, there wouldn’t have been a plot.
Still, I spent a lot of time with Google, looking up places, art, and news articles mentioned in the book. If nothing else, it gave me a lot of places that I’d like to visit if I ever get to Spain. After all, the best part of the series is the travelogues.
I have a weakness for monster stories. They are a guilty pleasure of mine. For example, I went (by myself) to see Godzilla in the theatre. Come on, giant monsters stomping cities? Definitely a fun couple of hours, despite the plot holes, because I really like the characters.
So, when I saw Arachnosaur on NetGalley, I thought that would be right up my alley. Unfortunately, some guilty pleasures turn out not to be pleasures, and this was one of those.
Basically, two soldiers are the only survivors in an attempt to take out a terrorist group in the middle east. They are recruited to figure out how the terrorist group became so dangerous, especially since the senior survivor swears he saw another soldier blow up from the inside out.
The answer, of course, is giant primordial spiders found by the terrorists, who are trying to turn the effects of the spider webs (that’s what makes people go boom) into a weapon that they apparently want to sell for reasons never stated.
Along the way, the two soldiers pick up a pilot named ‘Speedy’ Gonzales, a doctor who is both female and Arab (and can whip up a serum that does something pretty ridiculous to save the lead at the end), a prostitute who name keeps changing from Lailani to Leilani and back (sloppy editing there). There’s also a captain who is a good guy but turns into an antagonist later, and a retired general who recruits them in the end for a ‘we fight the monsters no one believes in’ type organization. (preview chapters from the sequel appear at the end of the book)
I could have taken the plot falling apart and the ridiculous science at the end if the characters were likeable, but unfortunately, Daniels made me want to throw my ereader at a wall. He’s crude and sex-obsessed, likes to sleep with lots of prostitutes around the world (not sure why he isn’t in palliative care from all the STIs he must have), and his idea of good sex is being a jackhammer (seriously, no foreplay at all?). He also uses drugged condoms to take out a woman twice in the books (seriously?).
Then there’s the prostitute whose name keeps changing spelling. Supposedly, she finds Daniels’ confidence appealing, and his jackhammer imitation to be good. When the whorehouse is attacked (for no apparent reason), she jumps on his back, and he just runs around with her, and when confronting attackers without a weapon of his own, he plucks her off his back and throws her at the attacker like an angry cat. Sigh. And after that, she comes with them and helps? Oh yeah, and it turns out that one of her jobs is going to Abu Dhabi and working as a dominatrix. I kid you not.
Add all of this to soldiers in the middle east who have never heard of The Empty Quarter (hell, even *I* know what that is, at least in general).
Finally, the climactic scene had me going ‘ew’, and not in a good way.
All in all, I really can’t recommend this book to just about anybody. And yet, the preview chapters for the next book in the series kind of appealed. But only if there’s nothing better to read at the time.
Jim C Hines strikes me as a very funny guy. Even if you haven’t read his books, you might have heard of his game, a few years back, where he reproduced the back-breaking poses from the covers of popular paranormal romances (making the point that men on covers have reasonable poses, while women are put into poses that implies they are contortionists — apparently his chiropractor got a lot of business out of the exercise).
His novels are often just as tongue in cheek. For example, his Princess series take fairy tale princesses, and puts them together as action heroines.
Terminal Alliance, the first book in the Janitors of the Post-Apocalypse trilogy, does a similar thing of taking a ridiculous concept, and then puts it in a serious scenario. It’s hard to take it too serious, and yet the plot gets very much so.
In this world, Earth was infected with a virus that turned humans into feral animals. Not zombies, but maybe a 28 Days Later sort of effect. Amazingly, they still survived until the kindly Krakau came by. They came up with a cure, and start restoring a number of humans at a time. Those humans are strong, near impossible to kill, and have no memories. Of course they go to work for the Krakau.
Marion “Mops” Adamopoulos is the head janitor on the Pufferfish, an Earth Mercenary Corps ship commanded by a bridge crew of Krakau. When coming to the rescue of another ship, a new virus infects the Pufferfish, reverting to the human members of the crew to feral state. The command crew is dead, and the only unaffected humans are Mops and her team, who were in suits at the time for a repair.
Along with Doc, an AI, they get control of the ship and call the Krakau for help. Unfortunately, the Krakau plan to ‘put down’ the affected crew. Not willing to accept that, Mops and her team take the Pufferfish on a hunt to find the aliens who created this new virus, and find a cure for their fellow crew, despite being instantly named as rogues with a price on their head. And along the way, find out the truth of what originally infected their planet.
The universe is an interesting one, populated by relatable aliens, and others that are so alien that they can barely be understood. The various characters are engaging, including the extremely competent Mops, the gleefully violent Wolf, Monroe with his glitchy mechanical eye, the sarcastic AI Doc (who is part of a monocle that Mops wears), the very juvenile alien Azure, the sympathetic Krakau Admiral.
And while the world and the plot are very serious, I giggled my way through large parts of the book. The humour was perfectly balanced for my taste. It will be interesting to see what happens in the second part of the trilogy.
Second novels can be tricky, especially when the first novel was a hit. People who loved the first book expect the second to be just as good, but where the author might have had years to refine their first novel, they often get a contract that gives them a lot less time to finish the second.
When The Martian – Andy Weir’s wildly successful first novel, which was originally self-published – came out, I read it and loved it. I gave my father a copy for his Christmas book (everyone on my Christmas list gets a book as part of their gift), and he loved it. We saw the movie together in the theatres and really enjoyed it (even if they did throw out a good portion of the second half of the novel).
As a result, I approached Artemis with a lot of trepidation. There was no way it was going to measure up to The Martian, but I hoped that it would still be a good read.
Thankfully, it was.
Artemis takes place on the first city on the moon, where the locals live in cramped spaces (for the most part), and tourism is a large part of the economy, as the rich and powerful come to see where Armstrong was the first person to set foot on the moon.
Jazz moved to the moon with her father, a welder, when she was a child. Now estranged, she works as a runner, and as a smuggler. She’s trying to earn a very set amount of money that we don’t find out the reason for that amount until nearly the end of the story. Among other things, she smuggles contraband combustables (ie, cigars) for a businessman who moved to the moon to make things easier for his disabled daughter.
But then her client hires her to sabotage a business rival, offering an insane amount of money. But of course things go wrong, and Jazz finds herself on the run from the organized crime backers of the rival. She feels she has no choice but to to try to follow through on her promise.
The plot moved along nicely, and I enjoyed the planning and the action, but unfortunately the characters didn’t work as well as they could have. It seemed like Weir was checking off the diversity list. The main character is an Arab woman whose father is a devout Muslim. The on-Earth smuggling partner is in Africa, and presumabley black. Jazz has to work with a male former friend who stole her boyfriend. Another ally is the awkward geek. The cop is actually a former Mountie (who should not still be wearing the uniform). The bad guys are Brazilian. The city administrator is Kenyan. The daughter of the employer is in a wheelchair. After all that, you basically have a full Bingo card.
Still, Jazz was likeable, and you definitely get the feel that she had a life before and after the novel.
So, while Artemis is nowhere near as successful as The Martian, I would recommend it to fans of hard sf. I just don’t think it was be as big a breakout as The Martian was, outside of the SF fandom.