Matthew Rasnake
I am a little surprised at how much I enjoyed this book. I'm generally not a fan of period fiction, nor of the snobby pretensions of Victorian society. This book, however, despite the stilted late 19th/early 20th century language, was very readable, frequently humorous, and surprisingly engaging.
My only complaint is that it can be a bit long and tedious at points, but those points were rare.
It is bizarre reading this in 2020 in the context of the protests and Black Lives Matter, but it is illuminating, at least insofar as it regards from where this all has sprung. I don't know that I can recommend the read while all this is so raw.
I don' t have strong feelings about this book in any particular direction, it was better than 2 stars, but not quite three stars, so I rounded up to three.
The book was a mish-mash, interesting and entertaining at points, and occasionally engaging, but not consistently enough for me to ever truly enjoy it.
It was an interesting character study, though every character was broken in some way. It had a few explicit sexual encounters, some of which were interesting for their social connotations, and others which just seemed gratuitously provocative. It was also an interesting social commentary on times past, showing how the tides of social change wash over us, sometimes carrying us under and sometimes letting us ride the waves.
Perhaps I would have enjoyed it more if I had a stronger interest in historical fiction. As it is, for me it was a moderately interesting jumble of a book.
I enjoyed “The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet” quite a bit. Others have mentioned that it's in the same vein as Firefly or Farscape, which is accurate, and puts it right in my sweet spot. The world is well realized and complex, and while there are occasional expository digressions to get some of that stuff worked out, it's by no means disruptive. Like the worldbuilding, the characters are well realized, distinct, and a joy to read. They can feel like echoes of more familiar characters—Kizzy is a clear echo of Kaylee, and Ashby is a more subtle echo of Malcolm Reynolds—but again, this in no way detracts from their distinctness, and mainly serves as a comfortable foothold.
More than the worldbuilding and the characterization, I was drawn in by the prose itself. The author has an enjoyable style that really paints a picture. I'm a fairly sensitive reader, and this book had me all over the place emotionally. Anything that can make me chuckle involuntarily or tear up in the middle of a crowded coffee shop is clearly doing something right.
All that being said, and as good as this book is, I found myself wanting more. There are a few (only a few) missed opportunities or things that were glossed over or skipped that I would have loved to see on the page. Also, I feel that Rosemary, the main character, was not given quite enough room to develop. Her backstory was explained and examined fairly deftly, and she had a clear arc of growth from Solan to spacer over the course of the book, but I felt some of it, again, was glossed over. There were some things not well enough explained to really ground the character, and other things not quite setup enough to make her actions/choices seem completely natural.
Despite these few, very slight flaws, I thoroughly enjoyed the book, and highly recommend it.
Good, but not great. Entertaining, but predictable and cliche ridden. Vulgar and crass, in a somewhat amateurish way. Some characters made leaps of logic or understanding of which they shouldn't have been capable. Again, it was entertaining, and I did generally enjoy it, but I don't feel compelled to pick up the next book in the series.
I have to admit it... I liked Enterprise. The premise had promise, and the characters, when well-written, were engaging and enjoyable. Whole volumes could be written about just how much, and why, the show sucked so bad, and exactly who was responsible (Berman, Braga, I'm lookin' at you). When in the fourth season they brought on a new Exec and head writer, it really started to fulfill its potential. Then, of course, it was canceled and they ended with one of the single worst, most offensive and disrespectful series finales I've ever witnessed. How the actors didn't raze Paramount's studios to the ground when they left, I'll never know.
But anyway, we're talking about a book.
Right out of the gate you must understand, this is pop-fiction (see my other Trek novel reviews for my feelings ‘bout that). As a Star Trek novel, this is actually pretty good—I've read better, I've read worse. The plot is fairly well conceived and the story moves well and entertains.
The really interesting, and frankly welcomed, thing about this particular novel—compared to most other such novels—is the complete circumvention of established canon.
Not to spoil it for you (can you spoil something so terrible?) but in that travesty of a series finale, one of the main characters (arguably the best character) dies, in an incredibly lame way, for incredibly lame reasons.
So, what this novel offers to the offended fans of the show, is a complete rewrite of some of the events in that finale, transforming the steaming piles of shit into something at least a bit more palatable. Not only does the character not die, he becomes a singularly important (if mostly unsung) hero in the Trek universe.
I have to be honest though, the writing isn't all that hot. The story is good and compelling, but I often found myself cringing at awkward or redundant sentence structures. The writing was loose, and the editing seemed almost non-existent. But, we don't read Star Trek novels to be treated to shining examples of the English language.
If you're a Trek fan, dig in. If you're a disappointed Enterprise fan, you need to read this. If you're neither of those, why the hell are you bothering with this review?
It's not often that I will actually STOP reading a book, on purpose, once I've started. Sure, sometimes I'll put it down for a while and come back to it later, but like leaving in the middle of a movie, putting down a book–for good–without finishing it is something I just don't do.
Well, now I have.
The premise of this book intrigued me, with its vague intimations of a philosophic and Zen inspired discourse on time–how we perceive it, and how we might get back to a better relationship with it. Presumably, that discourse exists somewhere within the book, but I wasn't able to slog through the first few chapters to get to the meat of it.
The author is apparently of an American school of writing influenced heavily by the Beats. His prose attempts that Kerouackian stream-of-consciousness that Jack managed to pull off with energy and weight, but which this author only stumbles around with, coming off as amatuerish and disjointed. The book feels like a first draft, with the author repeating the same ideas several times in the course of several paragraphs, and revisiting them again later in the same chapter. By the third reading of the same statement, the reader is left saying “OK! I get it! Can we move on!”
Coupled with repeated assertions, the author employs broad, seemingly faulty interpretations of events or social phenomena to support his ideas. The first few times these weak arguments show up, the reader may be willing to overlook or forgive. But with each additional instance, the reader's patience is tried and the author begins to seem like a buffoon.
Ultimately, as I said, I only made it through the first few chapters before I had had enough of the faux-progressive prose and faulty logic. The book comes across as something that might have been an interesting idea for a 10-20 page essay, which has been expanded–to its great detriment–into a full-length book.
For the premise alone, I wish I could recommend the book... but I can't. Don't buy it, spend your precious time on something worthwhile.
Spirituality has always been a huge part of my life, despite the fact that, for quite some time, I've not been a church-going, God-fearing bible-thumper. I've also been (an amateur) student of the sciences since grade-school. If the lure of the amber screen (my first computer) hadn't been so great, and I hadn't sucked quite so badly at all forms of mathematics, I probably would have pursued a career in theoretical physics. Because of these facts, a large part of my inner journey has been involved in the reconciliation of religious faith and scientific knowledge.
God's Mechanics' intention is to share with the reader this peculiar journey, which is, to some extent, common amongst those in the science and technology fields. It asks and attempts to answer some common questions: how do we reconcile science and religion, are they really at odds with one another, what good does faith do in this world of facts and theories, and finally, why do we need a god in the first place?
The author—a Jesuit astronomer in the Vatican observatory—takes great pains to impress upon the reader that he is not a professional interviewer, a professional philosopher, a professional writer, or a professional sociologist. He's an astronomer, a scientist, and a student of the life and teachings of Jesus Christ. It is those last two, he feels, that give him any qualifications to write the book.
The first two parts of the book were based on older work that he'd done—magazine articles, and talks that he'd given. These are actually quite good, with some interesting ideas and explanations concerning the common questions specifically and the “techie” worldview in general. Reading these first few parts, I had high hopes that some serious discoveries were to be found in the later chapters as the author should certainly get closer and closer to the heart of the matter.
Instead, what I found was that the rest of the book was a study in contradictions, apologies, evasions, and finally some good old-fashioned catholic rah-rah. In the author's defense, he as much as said (several times) that he was biased, and that the problem with theorizing is that often you have to begin with the conclusions... meaning his mind was made up, so it was hard for him to talk as if it wasn't.
The interviews, as described, seemed haphazard and probably a bit too leading. Often he mentioned discussing with the current group or individual the things that previous groups or individuals had said, thereby seeding the discussion rather than allowing it to define itself. Ultimately, I felt the interviews were mostly non-revelatory, and only served to confuse the issues.
The end of the book mostly dealt with the author's own spiritual quest, which essentially reads: i was born Catholic, I never left the church, and my attempts to define my faith, my beliefs, and the spiritual needs that drove them was an exercise in recursion—I believe, therefore I think I need to believe, therefore I believe.
Despite the book's faults, it was still a worthwhile read. If you're interested in philosophy, spirituality, or the areas in which those things and science collide, the first two sections are great. If you're looking for an unbiased discussion of religion in the lives of techies, this isn't really it. Likewise, if you're looking for a guidebook for your own spiritual journey, this book may make too many assumptions to be truly helpful.