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THE ELYSIUM COMMISSION

Some brisk action closes the proceedings, but otherwise, mediocre problems and solutions—our hero has little idea how to...

Far-future Mr. Fix-it gets into hot water—a familiar Modesitt (The Eternity Artifact, 2005, etc.) scenario here given a trudging workout.

By day, ex-military special operative and narrator Blaine Donne solves business problems and earns large fees; by night, he stalks the back streets of Thurene on planet Devanta, righting small wrongs for free. Suddenly, commissions arrive in a bunch. A wealthy widow wants Donne to investigate her granddaughter’s betrothed, a research doctor she suspects of being a closeted gay. A beautiful lady with no apparent identity wants him to uncover connections between creepy entrepreneur Legaar Eloi, obsessive city planner Judeon Maraniss—another, less frequent narrator—and “Elysium,” whatever that may be. Another client wishes to locate an elusive missing heiress. A case of copyright infringement crops up. Seemingly, the cases are unrelated. However, Eloi and Maraniss operate from a country estate that possesses a huge, hidden power source—but to what end? Donne solicits help from his high-powered elder sister Krij, a corporate-compliance expert. Eloi and Maraniss may be conspiring with a foreign power to overthrow Devanta’s benevolent oligarchy, the Civitas Sorores. Donne resolves the wealthy widow case (he isn’t gay, she is; neither cares) but learns nothing of Elysium except to suspect that his mysterious respondent is a Sorores agent. Finally, the Sorores lose patience with Donne and make their requirements explicit: It seems that he must come out of retirement.

Some brisk action closes the proceedings, but otherwise, mediocre problems and solutions—our hero has little idea how to Google for information and spends most of his time asking his friends for gossip.

Pub Date: Feb. 20, 2007

ISBN: 0-765-31720-6

Page Count: 336

Publisher: Tor

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 1, 2006

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FOUNDATION AND EARTH

An overlong but imaginative entry in the revived Foundation series, with a talky opening, an intriguing middle, and an illogical fade-out. Councilman Golan Trevize, having opted for the formation of a galaxy-wide, totally empathic super-organism, Galaxia, is now having second thoughts—and his doubts focus on a possible threat from the long-lost planet Earth. So, supplied with clues by historian Janes Pelorat, and protected by the powerful Gaian woman, Bliss, Trevize begins his search. (The debate pro and con Galaxia continues, meanwhile, in tiresome detail.) In the novel's best section, they touch down on various planets, including the old Spacer world Solaria, where the hermaphroditic Solarians live in solipsistic splendor, totally isolated from each other on their vast robot-run estates, casually controlling energy by means of their enlarged brains. Finally, on Earth's Moon, Trevize encounters robot Daneel Olivaw, now 20,000 years old; Daneel, with his highly advanced brain and psychic powers, has secretly been guiding the development of Galaxia all along. And, in a total non sequitur, Trevize realizes that what he really fears—why Galaxia must be formed—is the threat of invasion by extra-galactic aliens. Dreadfully long-winded—would that the characters sometimes reply with a simple "yes" or "no"—and many longtime fans will prefer Daneel as a plain old robot-detective rather than a galactic super-brain. Yet, much here qualifies as vintage Asimov—Solaria has long been one of his finest creations—despite that disappointing, artificial finale.

Pub Date: Oct. 3, 1986

ISBN: 0553900943

Page Count: -

Publisher: Doubleday

Review Posted Online: Sept. 16, 2011

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 1986

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SPACEMAN OF BOHEMIA

An entertaining, provocative addition to the spate of literary near-future novels that have lately hit the shelves.

Blend Bradbury and Lem with Saint-Exupéry and perhaps a little Kafka, and you get this talky, pleasing first novel by Czech immigrant writer Kalfar.

Jakub Procházka—his name, he insists, is “common” and “simple”—is a man of numerous fears, including caterpillars and the possibility of an afterlife, “as in the possibility that life could not be escaped.” An astrophysicist with a beautiful if increasingly estranged wife and a father with a fraught past, Jakub is now pushing the moral equivalent of a giant space broom, collecting cosmic dust for analysis up in the skies on a path to Venus, where the first astronaut from the Czech Republic can stake a claim to space for a nation that the world confuses with Chechnya or, in the words of a powerful technocrat, “reduces us to our great affinity for beer and pornography.” The new world in the sky yields many mysteries, among them an arachnoid spider with whom Jakub, whom the creature calls “skinny human,” has extensive conversations about all manner of things even as events on Earth unfold in ever stranger ways; his wife, Lenka, now has a police tail, and Jakub’s wish to reconcile and produce offspring seems increasingly unlikely. And why does he wish to reproduce? So that, he answers when the creature asks, he reduces the odds of being a nobody, one of many nicely Kafkaesque nods in a book built on sly, decidedly contrarian humor. Whether the Nutella-loving creature is really there or some sort of imagined projection (“A hallucination could not be full of thoughts that had never occurred to me, could it?”) remains something of a mystery, but Jakub’s torments and mostly good-natured if baffled responses to them are the real meat of the story. Blending subtle asides on Czech history, the Cold War, and today’s wobbly democracy, Kalfar’s confection is an inventive, well-paced exercise in speculative fiction.

An entertaining, provocative addition to the spate of literary near-future novels that have lately hit the shelves.

Pub Date: March 7, 2017

ISBN: 978-0-316-27343-5

Page Count: 288

Publisher: Little, Brown

Review Posted Online: Dec. 5, 2016

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 15, 2016

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