A fevered post-apocalyptic yarn heavier on philosophical meanderings than survivalist thrills.
The apparent sole human remaining in a future western America depopulated by war, plague, and eco-collapse comes across the writings of a fellow survivor in Koszulinski’s SF novel.
Jane Ballard, born in 2055, is the lonely survivor of an apocalyptic dystopia beset by climate horror, famine, genocide, and war. She’s a Marine Corps veteran of the secessionist California Republic of some 15 liberal-minded states—they were supposedly the good guys, but Jane understands that propaganda was rampant, so who knows? Also rampant: a mysterious contagion, Virus (x), which delivered the final blow, wiping out almost every human on Earth, plus dogs and cats. Jane wanders the West, seeking others still alive. In Arizona, she discovers “Dead Man”—the mummified corpse of a former U.S. government “archeopsychic extractor” (torturer) who evidently walked unprotected into the daytime heat to expire. Dead Man’s journals and hideaway in a book-filled disused motel send Jane into reveries about civilization’s ultimate downfall, when “the feed” (read: internet) extirpated words on paper in favor of an ever-changing, AI-dominated miasma of illusion, fake-news hoaxes, and alienating virtual sex (even bisexual Jane partook), undermining the basics of humanity. (“It was not Virus (x) or the endless ecological perils, it was the dissolution of a shared reality that brought about collapse.”) Dead Man’s ghostly diatribes haunt Jane, even after she stumbles on tangible evidence in Taos of other holdouts. With a wobbly back-and-forth chronology and breakaway asides, the narrative feels more manifestolike than other dire post-holocaust Robinsonades and examples of “prepper” fiction. The text employs almost-experimental free verse (“Transformation, transformation, transformation. We are not the wardens. War crimes end-of-times? We are the shepherds leading the sheep on the path of enlightenment. Touch the light with your burning bodies”) to ruminate on religion, guilt, machine-intelligence limitations, wealth inequality, habitat loss, and the overarching need for community. The tale is by turns provocative and frustrating as its hero pursues her foggy goal.
A fevered post-apocalyptic yarn heavier on philosophical meanderings than survivalist thrills.Pub Date: Aug. 5, 2025
ISBN: N/A
Page Count: -
Publisher: N/A
Review Posted Online: June 17, 2025
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
An unforgettable story of survival and the power of friendship—nothing short of a science-fiction masterwork.
Weir’s latest is a page-turning interstellar thrill ride that follows a junior high school teacher–turned–reluctant astronaut at the center of a desperate mission to save humankind from a looming extinction event.
Ryland Grace was a once-promising molecular biologist who wrote a controversial academic paper contesting the assumption that life requires liquid water. Now disgraced, he works as a junior high science teacher in San Francisco. His previous theories, however, make him the perfect researcher for a multinational task force that's trying to understand how and why the sun is suddenly dimming at an alarming rate. A barely detectable line of light that rises from the sun’s north pole and curves toward Venus is inexplicably draining the star of power. According to scientists, an “instant ice age” is all but inevitable within a few decades. All the other stars in proximity to the sun seem to be suffering with the same affliction—except Tau Ceti. An unwilling last-minute replacement as part of a three-person mission heading to Tau Ceti in hopes of finding an answer, Ryland finds himself awakening from an induced coma on the spaceship with two dead crewmates and a spotty memory. With time running out for humankind, he discovers an alien spacecraft in the vicinity of his ship with a strange traveler on a similar quest. Although hard scientific speculation fuels the storyline, the real power lies in the many jaw-dropping plot twists, the relentless tension, and the extraordinary dynamic between Ryland and the alien (whom he nicknames Rocky because of its carapace of oxidized minerals and metallic alloy bones). Readers may find themselves consuming this emotionally intense and thematically profound novel in one stay-up-all-night-until-your-eyes-bleed sitting.
An unforgettable story of survival and the power of friendship—nothing short of a science-fiction masterwork.Pub Date: May 4, 2021
ISBN: 978-0-593-13520-4
Page Count: 496
Publisher: Ballantine
Review Posted Online: Feb. 9, 2021
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2021
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
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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