Although conceptually tantalizing, this novel never delivers the goods.
Sosnowski (Happy Doomsday, 2018, etc.) channels his inner Asimov with a quirky story about two young hackers who attempt to create a fully conscious artificial intelligence—with unforeseen consequences.
Pandora Lynch is a 16-year-old who lives with her father in Fairbanks, Alaska. A self-taught hacker, her only real friend is her paternal grandmother, a World War II codebreaker who's battling dementia in an assisted living facility. George Jedson is a street-smart homeless kid and computer wunderkind who is offered a job at a San Francisco–based social media giant after hacking into the CEO’s luxury vehicle. When Pandora’s father—an online therapist for the company—begins counseling George, the two young people eventually cross paths online and immediately connect “like quantum particles that had become entangled.” Pandora, who has watched her grandmother’s essence slowly deteriorate, wonders if cybernetic immortality is indeed possible, and together the duo create Buzz, a baby artificial intelligence that they hope will eventually attain consciousness. Fans of Sosnowski’s previous works will find his sardonic wit and social commentary an obvious strength in this narrative (a particular gun in a gruesome meme racks up more likes than “they’d seen since white polo shirts and tiki torches showed up half-price at Big Lots”). Additionally, the novel explores (albeit superficially) a variety of potentially intriguing ideas and issues, including the looming singularity, the dystopic potential of social media dependence, and humans' corruption of reality. Ultimately though, the overall storyline feels directionless, lacking immediacy and any real emotional intensity. Although some central characters are authentic and identifiable—Pandora’s grandmother steals the show—George is two-dimensional, a forgettable cardboard character who has almost no internal arc. The biggest disappointment, however, is the conclusion, which, while contemplative, has very little thematic impact.
Although conceptually tantalizing, this novel never delivers the goods.Pub Date: Jan. 28, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-5420-0502-9
Page Count: 460
Publisher: 47North
Review Posted Online: Oct. 27, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Nov. 15, 2019
PERSPECTIVES
A breezy and fun contemporary fantasy.
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. 10, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 1, 2019
PERSPECTIVES
One small step, no giant leaps.
Weir (The Martian, 2014) returns with another off-world tale, this time set on a lunar colony several decades in the future.
Jasmine “Jazz” Bashara is a 20-something deliveryperson, or “porter,” whose welder father brought her up on Artemis, a small multidomed city on Earth’s moon. She has dreams of becoming a member of the Extravehicular Activity Guild so she’ll be able to get better work, such as leading tours on the moon’s surface, and pay off a substantial personal debt. For now, though, she has a thriving side business procuring low-end black-market items to people in the colony. One of her best customers is Trond Landvik, a wealthy businessman who, one day, offers her a lucrative deal to sabotage some of Sanchez Aluminum’s automated lunar-mining equipment. Jazz agrees and comes up with a complicated scheme that involves an extended outing on the lunar surface. Things don’t go as planned, though, and afterward, she finds Landvik murdered. Soon, Jazz is in the middle of a conspiracy involving a Brazilian crime syndicate and revolutionary technology. Only by teaming up with friends and family, including electronics scientist Martin Svoboda, EVA expert Dale Shapiro, and her father, will she be able to finish the job she started. Readers expecting The Martian’s smart math-and-science problem-solving will only find a smattering here, as when Jazz figures out how to ignite an acetylene torch during a moonwalk. Strip away the sci-fi trappings, though, and this is a by-the-numbers caper novel with predictable beats and little suspense. The worldbuilding is mostly bland and unimaginative (Artemis apartments are cramped; everyone uses smartphonelike “Gizmos”), although intriguing elements—such as the fact that space travel is controlled by Kenya instead of the United States or Russia—do show up occasionally. In the acknowledgements, Weir thanks six women, including his publisher and U.K. editor, “for helping me tackle the challenge of writing a female narrator”—as if women were an alien species. Even so, Jazz is given such forced lines as “I giggled like a little girl. Hey, I’m a girl, so I’m allowed.”
One small step, no giant leaps.Pub Date: Nov. 14, 2017
ISBN: 978-0-553-44812-2
Page Count: 320
Publisher: Crown
Review Posted Online: July 16, 2017
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 15, 2017
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