This outsized so-called classic should have stayed in the past.

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THE YEAR 200

In this newly translated 1990 book from de Rojas, one of Cuba’s pre-eminent sci-fi writers, sleeper agents emerge from the past to wrest control of the future.

Two hundred years after the Communist Federation defeated the capitalist Empire, two tiny robots awaken underground and burrow to the surface. When 9-year-old Bennie touches one of the robots, it wipes out his personality and memories and replaces them with those of Thomas Babson, a sadistic Empire torturer who lived hundreds of years ago. Now awakened in the future, Babson injects agents’ identities into unsuspecting others. Bennie’s mother becomes Candy, a veteran spy, while psychosociologist Harry becomes Stephen, a man with desires so peculiar (though never described) that he reprograms women’s minds to suit his perverse needs. When Aisha arrives for an appointment with Harry, he hypnotizes her, and she awakens with the personality of Alice—plus Stephen’s additional, depraved sexual programming. Unbeknownst to the agents, Alice is also a spy for the Communists. She escapes from Stephen and the others and eventually teams up with Maya, a “cybo,” whose cybernetic implants have left her emotionless. Together, they forge a plan to take down the newly awakened operatives. Along the way, this bloated story crams in every moth-eaten sci-fi cliché readers can think of—romantic love is aberrant behavior, artificial intelligence gains sentience, people abandon technology to become “primitives”—and limps through them with zero urgency. The female characters are also depressingly retrograde; for example, Alice doesn’t seem to care that her sexual agency was brainwashed away and spends much of her time shrieking about her “love” for Stephen, often while naked or at least topless. Indeed, de Rojas describes virtually every female character’s bare breasts at least once: small breasts, pert breasts, prominent breasts—this book’s got more boobs than a Porky’s film. Meanwhile, the worldbuilding is glutted with details, with tiresome infodumps that go on for pages. Characters drift in and out of the story even as new players keep appearing. With everyone changing names and bodies, keeping track of who’s who becomes a chore.

This outsized so-called classic should have stayed in the past.

Pub Date: July 12, 2016

ISBN: 978-1-632-06051-8

Page Count: 640

Publisher: Restless Books

Review Posted Online: May 31, 2016

Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 2016

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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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A breezy and fun contemporary fantasy.

THE HOUSE IN THE CERULEAN SEA

A tightly wound caseworker is pushed out of his comfort zone when he’s sent to observe a remote orphanage for magical children.

Linus Baker loves rules, which makes him perfectly suited for his job as a midlevel bureaucrat working for the Department in Charge of Magical Youth, where he investigates orphanages for children who can do things like make objects float, who have tails or feathers, and even those who are young witches. Linus clings to the notion that his job is about saving children from cruel or dangerous homes, but really he’s a cog in a government machine that treats magical children as second-class citizens. When Extremely Upper Management sends for Linus, he learns that his next assignment is a mission to an island orphanage for especially dangerous kids. He is to stay on the island for a month and write reports for Extremely Upper Management, which warns him to be especially meticulous in his observations. When he reaches the island, he meets extraordinary kids like Talia the gnome, Theodore the wyvern, and Chauncey, an amorphous blob whose parentage is unknown. The proprietor of the orphanage is a strange but charming man named Arthur, who makes it clear to Linus that he will do anything in his power to give his charges a loving home on the island. As Linus spends more time with Arthur and the kids, he starts to question a world that would shun them for being different, and he even develops romantic feelings for Arthur. Lambda Literary Award–winning author Klune (The Art of Breathing, 2019, etc.) has a knack for creating endearing characters, and readers will grow to love Arthur and the orphans alongside Linus. Linus himself is a lovable protagonist despite his prickliness, and Klune aptly handles his evolving feelings and morals. The prose is a touch wooden in places, but fans of quirky fantasy will eat it up.

A breezy and fun contemporary fantasy.

Pub Date: March 17, 2020

ISBN: 978-1-250-21728-8

Page Count: 352

Publisher: Tor

Review Posted Online: Nov. 11, 2019

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 1, 2019

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