A delightfully tongue-in-cheek, if sometimes confusing, time-hopping satire.
A Montana couple use time travel and new alien enhancements to save Earth from inevitable destruction in this SF novel.
The voice in surgeon Dr. Stefan Westin’s head turns out to be real. Rodney, hailing from another galaxy, gives Stefan the chance to ensure that the world doesn’t become extinct in a mere 200 years. Stefan, joined by his girlfriend, Tara Kramer, chooses people—living and dead—for the aliens to deport to a depository planet. Bumping a couple of American presidents from the timeline, for example, boosts the environment and prevents a number of Covid-19 deaths. But for each deportation, the couple must sacrifice a body part, which Rodney can replace with an often superior, refurbished one. This comes in handy when the aliens send Stefan and Tara on a time-travel mission. Apparently, Ralph, one of the aliens, has gone rogue. Hiding in various human bodies throughout history, he has been committing “evil in the name of Christianity.” The couple travel through time to find whatever body Ralph may be using and stop him with a “trap-capsule.” Essen’s political commentary forgoes subtlety. Stefan and Tara go after Republicans and conservative media outlets like Fox News, while Ralph’s atrocities revolve around hateful so-called Christians or groups. But the author offsets the biting satire with welcome humor that features not-always-reliable Rodney, who tends to put the couple “on hold” while he confers with higher-ups or checks out something. These comedic moments prove much stronger than the SF elements. While Essen wisely keeps Rodney’s planet and species a relative mystery, the time-travel logic unravels as the story progresses. For example, erasing people from history readjusts the timeline, but that doesn’t explain a significant turn in the final act—despite Stefan trying to spin theories. Nevertheless, the tale’s wrap-up is effective and leaves room for a sequel.
A delightfully tongue-in-cheek, if sometimes confusing, time-hopping satire.Pub Date: Sept. 12, 2022
ISBN: 978-1-73443-037-0
Page Count: 244
Publisher: Encante Press LLC
Review Posted Online: Sept. 15, 2022
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
BOOK REVIEW
A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.
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. 9, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2020
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK TO SCREEN
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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