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DJ DECAPITATOR

A vividly realized, gory, and gripping SF action adventure.

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An outer-space janitor must use electronic music to battle a zombie outbreak in Dee’s horror comedy.

It’s Sam’s last day as the janitor aboard an intergalactic space station, and his best friend Kai is throwing a retirement party to celebrate. But things quickly go south when a mysterious epidemic turns the station’s residents into zombielike creatures that feed on flesh and subsume victims into a giant mega-monster. The only thing that makes them stop is loud electronic music. Armed with only a space suit and a glitchy DJ app, Sam must vanquish these beasts through the power of bass. Dee’s fast-paced tale flings readers right into the action, resulting in a lean, propulsive horror thriller that’s light on exposition and heavy on gore, but Sam’s profane internal monologue is engaging enough to make readers feel invested in the outcome. The mission-based structure makes each chapter feel like a level in a particularly graphic video game (think the popular 2007 game Portal, as produced by filmmaker David Cronenberg). Lots of clever twists diversify the action; for example, Sam’s suit muffles most external sounds, so all the dialogue is shown via garbled tablet texts, as when the first victim exclaims, “[Mac what stop are going you doing on].” The layout of the station can be unclear at times, and the spare backstory leaves some questions unanswered, but most readers will be too caught up in the onslaught of obstacles to dwell on these relatively minor issues. The monsters are particularly terrifying, and Dee clearly relishes their grotesque design. If a sentence like “Yuck, the open mouths of the faces in his belly now resemble irregularly spaced pustules, seeping thick pus-like drool” doesn’t spark readers’ interest, this may not be the book for them—but fans of SF and body horror will find this to be a delightfully brisk read.

A vividly realized, gory, and gripping SF action adventure.

Pub Date: Oct. 31, 2026

ISBN: 9789819452842

Page Count: 176

Publisher: Self

Review Posted Online: July 14, 2026

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 1, 2026

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SCION

Buckle up—fans of page-turning SF may find themselves binge-reading this novel in one butt-numbing marathon session.

Like a truck with no brakes speeding down a steep mountain road, Islington’s latest is an adrenaline-fueled SF thrill ride that follows a biomechanically enhanced assassin as he tries to understand his mysterious origins.

The chaotic opening scene gives readers a clear indication of what they’re in for: Contract killer Azure, attempting to complete a mission, is involved in a life-or-death battle with a multieyed biomachine called an Argos. “The thing’s bipedal but has six gorilla-like arms that end in half-metre-long claws,” he complains. After Azure barely dispatches the monster and kills his target, his AI assistant, Atti, informs him of his next job: protecting an elderly—and incredibly rich—woman living in a sprawling underground bunker in the middle of nowhere. “Old Woman,” as Azure calls her, isn’t forthcoming with personal details; all Azure can suss out is that she may be the target of a powerful organized crime syndicate—the same organization that employs him! Is Azure’s ultimate goal to save her or kill her? Although the worldbuilding could’ve been more comprehensive, Islington’s editing choices are brilliant—he strips away the insignificant narrative content to create a streamlined, action-packed adventure with seemingly one goal: to keep the reader furiously turning pages. The various mysteries—Azure’s murky beginnings, the tragic death of his best friend years earlier, Old Woman’s true identity, etc.—maintain the momentum and intensity. The takeaway here is the narrative potential of the characters as well as the plethora of subjects that could be explored more deeply, like immortality for the rich, cloning, and the potential to create bioengineered nightmares for “security.” Islington leaves the conclusion tantalizingly ambiguous. This novel could be the jumping-off point for a memorable series.

Buckle up—fans of page-turning SF may find themselves binge-reading this novel in one butt-numbing marathon session.

Pub Date: Sept. 1, 2026

ISBN: 9781668239247

Page Count: 240

Publisher: Saga/Simon & Schuster

Review Posted Online: Aug. 3, 2026

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 1, 2026

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ARTEMIS

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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