A well-meaning story kept earthbound by flawed execution.

A HALF-BUILT GARDEN

Aliens arrive on a near-future Earth bringing a dire warning: Leave the planet or die.

One spring night in 2083, Judy Wallach-Stevens is voluntarily on call to monitor water quality detectors near Chesapeake Bay. After a global revolution, Earth is now divided among collective networks known as watersheds as well as mega-corporations with strictly limited powers and some remaining nation-states. When Judy arrives at the sensors with her wife, Carol, and their infant, Dori, they find a craft carrying multilimbed, pill bug–like aliens as well as another species resembling a large furry spider. They all speak near-perfect English thanks to years of listening to old transmissions from Earth, and they come with a startling message: “All species must leave their birth worlds, or give up their technological development, or die. You are very close.” The aliens offer all their knowledge to the human race but only if it leaves Earth permanently. First contact with aliens obviously isn’t a new premise, but this story tries to offer its own spin by leaning heavily on the ideals of cooperation and mutual agreement. Although this is a refreshing change from the variously grim dystopias of a lot of SF, its execution here almost completely lacks tension; any conflict that arises is swiftly solved, with all parties coming to an understanding. The author burdens the worldbuilding with unneeded details about how infotech collaboration works but skimps on specifics of how the societal structure of the planet changed so completely in just 61 years. At the same time, there’s an odd mix of high and low technology use among characters; for instance, people carry babies in slings and nurse them on demand, but the same infants wear “smarthemp” diapers that notify parents on network-linked “mesh” devices when they’re wet. There are also multiple lengthy discussions of genders and pronouns and what they mean to humans and aliens alike, but it’s all handled in an uninspired and sometimes clunky way.

A well-meaning story kept earthbound by flawed execution.

Pub Date: July 26, 2022

ISBN: 978-1-250-21098-2

Page Count: 352

Publisher: Tordotcom

Review Posted Online: May 25, 2022

Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 2022

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A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.

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DEVOLUTION

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. 10, 2020

Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2020

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A breezy and fun contemporary fantasy.

THE HOUSE IN THE CERULEAN SEA

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. 11, 2019

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 1, 2019

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