Harry

At first, I was so excited and delighted with this book, that I nominated it for an award. But something happened as I read, it began to feel like wading through mud, and I abandoned it halfway. But, me being me (and don't lecture me booktubers, I am what I am) I picked it up again, albeit years later, in my primal drive to finish every book. This is not so much a long book (although it is that, in excess of 600 pages) as it is dense with compacted ideas. It doesn't help that Harkaway doesn't feel any obligation at times to make it clear which character is doing what or who they are, and, sometimes, he doesn't feel an obligation for pronouns to have antecedents. The prose is like poetry at times, and chock full of allusions and references, from abstruse details of Greek mythology to Yogi Bear cartoons from my childhood. The font alternation is annoying and unnecessary (although it is a clue in lieu of others, as to what's going on). But that's all stuff that could either be overlooked or appreciated for something or other - the most difficult thing here is that it's impossible to care about any of the characters here, or to be even interested in what's happening to them. It's a wild crazy trip, but, alas, a trip where you say to yourself, are we there yet, Nick? Briefly, in a near-ish future London, a women turns herself in to the offices of a surveillance state run by the usual all-knowing computer AI. The Inspector, who passes for our main character, uses the cutting edge technology which merges her mind with that of the women suspect, now dead, mysteriously, at the hands of previous inspectors. Therein, we get a view not of that woman's memories but of a wild ride through numerous different stories in the distant past and remotely far future where godlike hive minds joust with each other. The fun in this book is the Martian Chronicles-like series of independent stories, connected with symbolism and coincidences which gets the Sherlock Holmes in you going. But somewhere along the way, to me it seems, Harkaway lost interest in the connections. I did finish the book, but at times I felt like I was dragging my eyes from word to word. I don't know what to say: I should have loved this book, and sort of do some aspects of it, but I'm left with a throughly ambiguous feeling (which will seem appropriate, if you read this book yourself). Perhaps I should re-read it, but I don't have it in me. The best character by far was the shark. Despite Kyriakos's last words that he didn't miss the shark, I did, I sure did miss the shark.

This book is directed toward ‘ambitious strivers' who are now finding themselves slipping. Let me say, arrogance and privilege exude from almost every single sentence of this book. If this book is directed to ambitious strivers (like, Mr Books himself, which to be fair, he does not hide the fact that this book is largely about him), then why do more than 100 people have it on hold in the NYPL? I leave the sociology to another essay, but I'm sure it's because how to find meaning after midlife is something we all are looking for insight. Although even though I'm largely negative on it, it does have some insights: your mileage may vary. I'm going to be snippy and summarize the thesis this way: So you, Mr or Ms Ambitious Striver, have spent your life being successful, making lots of money and fame, while (and he makes a point of this) neglecting your life, your spouse, your children and pretty much everything else in life, except conspicuous consumption. Now you're at the point where inevitably your lunch is eaten by other younger, talented (perhaps more ruthless) people. Now what do you do? You reassess your life. Move on to different strengths. Positively you become a mentor and teacher and move on to the business of wisdom. Spending a lot of money on flying to India to chat with a guru nobody else can talk to, talking to your buddy the Dali Lama, making spiritual walks in Spain (because downtown DC just won't cut it I guess). Then. You convert to Catholicism. Whatever, you read the book. My major argument with the book is this: if people can get addicted to success, then perhaps this book is being directed to the wrong age group? Why are you talking to people who have made their success, if, like a meth addict, get them before they fall down the path, tell the young that there's more to life? I warn all, there's a heavy sell on religion for a few chapters (nothing any devoted free thinker couldn't demolish in seconds), but there's a smidge of disingenuousness there, I mean he buddies up to us, saying talking to religious people is like “someone trying to sell you a Buick” then, literally, the next 3 chapters are “but consider, the Buick gets good gas mileage!” Groan. I also caution people about the Cattell-Horn-Carroll Intelligence theory (yes, it is widely accepted, yes, I'm a psychologist), which he uses to claim there's a big inflection point in life where you transfer from fluid to crystalized intelligence, i.e. you start out your career as Steve Jobs and end up as Yoda. But, look at the curves (pp. 8 and 28) drop offs are far from steep and in fact most of the lifetime, career success and intelligence fall all within a narrower range for a long period. Brooks is also selective about giving examples of people who “fall off” in their latter career (no counter examples, like Noam Chomsky - oh, wait, Brooks' eyes might melt if he mentioned Chomsky, never mind, there are more). I mean, selectively choosing examples, we know that gambit, right? Ok, look, that was all unkind, and I didn't mean it to be, there is insight here, I very much resonate with devoting the latter half of your life to mentoring and teaching (something those of us who stay in the same profession for their work life and gain experience understand, we get all of one sentence at the end of the book, but, ok). You know, I'm sure, if I met Mr Brooks on a plane, we'd chat, maybe even be friends (level 1 or 2, not 3 - read the book) but, no, I wouldn't be the one complaining that my famous life was down the tubes... But heck, read it, it has some insights.

I read this series of 3 books to sort of take a break from heavier stuff I'd been reading, figuring Star Wars would be easy and quick, but I didn't want a novelization with all the characters and bleeps and bloops - this is a series that takes place outside of the location and timeline of the main Stars Wars (I knew this) but still fit the tropes quite well - it fit the bill, a fun read, where I could slide with fun familiar things, like breaking my diet for one meal and driving through the hamburger joint. Plus, I trust that Zahn is a skilled author, and in this series he held up that bargain well. If this is the sort of thing you're looking for, this is for you. If you're looking for your favorite characters, they're not here: Anakin makes an off-screen cameo, and of course in this ending chapter of the book, you get set up for all the Thrawn expanded universe stuff; but it's not Star Wars. But it is in the tropes, and, not being critical, because this is what I expect, even look for in a relax read - I mean there's a lot of intellectual debt owed to Dune, E. E. Doc Smith, Sailing Ship age novels, Star Wars of course (even the long lost siblings trope makes an appearance), the whole Hero's Journey thing, and more. Nor should you expect any hard sf, I mean space is crowded with debris (it's not) and there is no smoke in space, but, we don't care, it's for fun. And as I said, I have a high opinion of Zahn to give you a good story. It does get a bit draggy when the main character, Thrawn, goes through the same battle routine over and over again, making some magically never-fail fake-out gambit - you'd think every other character would get wise after 3 books of this (well, they do, sort of) - but on the other hand, these sections read like military sf under cruise control. Set your expectations, and Zahn delivers to those. Put your feet up and read.