STAR CLUSTER 66

In the 24th century, Willowbark Gnarganfarkle and his family are newcomers to an asteroid belt in a supercluster of galaxies. Seventeen-year-old Bark (with his 15-year-old sister, Utopia) helps his parents run a carnival during the summer before his senior year in high school. Bark has led an insular life; he was born on Earth illegally, years after raging “gender wars” ended with all of the men leaving the planet and the Matriarchs fully taking over. Now a hodgepodge of races surrounds him as he mans the water pistol attraction, including six-armed Goblevites and pointy-eared, elflike Ellevs (“So there I was, manning the booth, barely used to seeing so many disparate species of aliens and, being honest, still uncomfortable with it all, as I collected star credits in exchange for squirts into plastic mouths”). He and Utopia are themselves the products of a human mother and a lima-bean–sized father, who’s a Gnostikian from Largon VI. It doesn’t take long for Bark to make friends. They hang out at the cruise, a spot for kids his age to race spaceships and bet on those races. But surprises start happening all at once: One new pal is accused of cheating on a bet, and a strange, beautiful girl named Anna Falaxis approaches Bark with an odd request. Unexpectedly, some of these incidents involve a mysterious formula that his mother, a scientist when back on Earth, allegedly created. And as if all that wasn’t enough, several people try to rope Bark into a bizarre, sexually charged competition that stirs up talk of his apparent destiny as a universal savior.   

The author imbues this lengthy novel with a diverting, consistently flippant tone; things familiar from Earth are represented by amusing outer-space versions (traveling via starbikes and starbuses, concerns over “galactic STDs”). Bark’s laid-back narration eases readers into the story, conveying shock with a “WTF face” or admitting when he’s at a loss for words (“But, I mean, what can you say?”). This SF outing also comes with a bit of mystery, as readers pick up information (on diverse cultures, backstories, and the like) at the same time as Bark, who’s habitually and understandably confused. At times, however, the narrative feels like a series of set pieces (including cruise races and a rescue mission or two) that spawns a veritable revolving door of supporting characters. Still, Bark ties everything together, and his personal evolution fascinates as the reserved teen moves through a cornucopia of curious and astonishing experiences. He’s joined by a lively cast, including the kindhearted Catrina, of the Felinian race, who fawns over Bark, and tentacled twin Glacks named Quarts and Queem, who have strikingly different personalities. The author skewers a number of present-day issues throughout, with much of his satire leveled at women—Bark mocks the Matriarchs’ PMS (Public Matriarch System) for relaying stories of women as victims and blames them for the “Wokexodus,” in which men abandoned Earth. As the story progresses, however, Bark learns that all sorts of people have faults regardless of their gender, race, or nature of their appendages.