Too many half-digested ideas make for an unreadable garble.

READ REVIEW

CATACOMBS

When the Barque Cats seek refuge on an inhospitable planet, their problems—and the readers'—are only just starting.

In this follow-up to the team's Catalyst (2010), the large, furry and telepathic Barque Cats are once more in trouble. Having fled persecution at home, a spaceship-load of survivors (descendants of Maine Coon cats) land on the mysterious Pshaw-Ra's planet, Mau, only to find uncongenial desert-like conditions and strange goings-on with Pshaw-Ra's haughty queen. But while the feline adventurer Chester, whose narration alternates with Pshaw-Ra's, immediately finds the strange "treats" given to the furry refugees suspicious, his one-time shipmates seem content to slurp up goodies and be waited upon by human slaves—at least until kittens start going missing. As Chester and "his person," the boy Jubal, track the missing litter into an underground city, they also uncover a web of deception involving the queen, her exiled sister and the sterility of their tawny hosts, who want to use the Barque Cats to breed vitality—and polydactyl paws—back into their line. But while the premise is adorable, the cacophony of names, alternating voices, back story from the previous book, Egyptian mythology (involving mummified cats) and jarringly contemporary cat-health issues (such as feline diabetes) bog the adventure down. Inconsistent tenses—one scene progresses from "Meanwhile the kittens are going 'Mew mew mew' even louder" to "Jubal pressed against the force field"—add even more to the confusion. Unsure of itself as science fiction/fantasy, the book then seeks to fall back on cute kitty appeal, with disastrous results. While both authors have developed loyal followings for their previous work, it is hard to see how this hodgepodge could hold an audience.

Too many half-digested ideas make for an unreadable garble.

Pub Date: Dec. 7, 2010

ISBN: 978-0-345-51378-6

Page Count: 224

Publisher: Del Rey/Ballantine

Review Posted Online: Sept. 13, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 1, 2010

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A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.

DEVOLUTION

Are we not men? We are—well, ask Bigfoot, as Brooks does in this delightful yarn, following on his bestseller World War Z (2006).

A zombie apocalypse is one thing. A volcanic eruption is quite another, for, as the journalist who does a framing voice-over narration for Brooks’ latest puts it, when Mount Rainier popped its cork, “it was the psychological aspect, the hyperbole-fueled hysteria that had ended up killing the most people.” Maybe, but the sasquatches whom the volcano displaced contributed to the statistics, too, if only out of self-defense. Brooks places the epicenter of the Bigfoot war in a high-tech hideaway populated by the kind of people you might find in a Jurassic Park franchise: the schmo who doesn’t know how to do much of anything but tries anyway, the well-intentioned bleeding heart, the know-it-all intellectual who turns out to know the wrong things, the immigrant with a tough backstory and an instinct for survival. Indeed, the novel does double duty as a survival manual, packed full of good advice—for instance, try not to get wounded, for “injury turns you from a giver to a taker. Taking up our resources, our time to care for you.” Brooks presents a case for making room for Bigfoot in the world while peppering his narrative with timely social criticism about bad behavior on the human side of the conflict: The explosion of Rainier might have been better forecast had the president not slashed the budget of the U.S. Geological Survey, leading to “immediate suspension of the National Volcano Early Warning System,” and there’s always someone around looking to monetize the natural disaster and the sasquatch-y onslaught that follows. Brooks is a pro at building suspense even if it plays out in some rather spectacularly yucky episodes, one involving a short spear that takes its name from “the sucking sound of pulling it out of the dead man’s heart and lungs.” Grossness aside, it puts you right there on the scene.

A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.

Pub Date: June 16, 2020

ISBN: 978-1-9848-2678-7

Page Count: 304

Publisher: Del Rey/Ballantine

Review Posted Online: Feb. 10, 2020

Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2020

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Suspenseful, full of incident, and not obviously necessary.

THE TESTAMENTS

Atwood goes back to Gilead.

The Handmaid’s Tale (1985), consistently regarded as a masterpiece of 20th-century literature, has gained new attention in recent years with the success of the Hulu series as well as fresh appreciation from readers who feel like this story has new relevance in America’s current political climate. Atwood herself has spoken about how news headlines have made her dystopian fiction seem eerily plausible, and it’s not difficult to imagine her wanting to revisit Gilead as the TV show has sped past where her narrative ended. Like the novel that preceded it, this sequel is presented as found documents—first-person accounts of life inside a misogynistic theocracy from three informants. There is Agnes Jemima, a girl who rejects the marriage her family arranges for her but still has faith in God and Gilead. There’s Daisy, who learns on her 16th birthday that her whole life has been a lie. And there's Aunt Lydia, the woman responsible for turning women into Handmaids. This approach gives readers insight into different aspects of life inside and outside Gilead, but it also leads to a book that sometimes feels overstuffed. The Handmaid’s Tale combined exquisite lyricism with a powerful sense of urgency, as if a thoughtful, perceptive woman was racing against time to give witness to her experience. That narrator hinted at more than she said; Atwood seemed to trust readers to fill in the gaps. This dynamic created an atmosphere of intimacy. However curious we might be about Gilead and the resistance operating outside that country, what we learn here is that what Atwood left unsaid in the first novel generated more horror and outrage than explicit detail can. And the more we get to know Agnes, Daisy, and Aunt Lydia, the less convincing they become. It’s hard, of course, to compete with a beloved classic, so maybe the best way to read this new book is to forget about The Handmaid’s Tale and enjoy it as an artful feminist thriller.

Suspenseful, full of incident, and not obviously necessary.

Pub Date: Sept. 10, 2019

ISBN: 978-0-385-54378-1

Page Count: 432

Publisher: Nan A. Talese

Review Posted Online: Sept. 4, 2019

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2019

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