Freya is a sex robot. She was built to be attractive to humans, and to be turned on by anyone who is turned on by her. Unfortunately she was built after the human race became extinct, and so she has been obsolete for her entire life. She is scraping by on Venus and contemplating suicide at the beginning of Saturn's Children. However an encounter with someone who wants her dead reinvigorates her desire to live, and she flees the planet and embarks on an adventure that takes her across the solar system. Aided by the memories of Juliette, one of her sister sex droids, she learns that she and her sisters are not quite so obsolete as she had thought, and the fate of civilization hangs in the balance.
I did not like Freya very much. She is a sex droid, and she is passive by nature. A good deal of the time Freya does not do things as much as things happen to her. She also consistently trusts the wrong people, and it's a wonder she gets through the process alive, given how often things go wrong or her enemy magically shows up at the wrong moment to ruin everything. The future painted in the novel is very unpleasant, indeed, and the whole book is sort of an unpleasant, slimy slog.
Saturn's Children is a Heinlein pastiche. Doubtless that will attract some readers and dissuade others from trying it. Personally, I don't like Heinlein, and I did not like Saturn's Children. Stross has deliberately sprinkled the work with Heinlein references, and probably some people will find them clever and amusing. Personally, the first time Freya's nipples went Spung I nearly hurled the book across the room. And then it happened again, in case we missed it the first time. I forced myself to finish Saturn's Children because it is nominated for a Hugo, and I need to decide where on the ballot to place it, but otherwise I would never have finished this book. I am disappointed, because I was hoping it would be good enough to put above The Graveyard Book on my ballot, but it is not. (The Graveyard Book is a pleasant enough read, just too slight to be a serious Hugo contender.)
I am sure that some people will like Saturn's Children, but not me.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
The Pluto Files by Neil DeGrasse Tyson
Neil DeGrasse Tyson is a very cool guy. I first encountered him on CSPAN Book TV, and found him entertaining and educational at the same time. So I was really looking forward to The Pluto Files, simply because I figured he would have written an entertaining and educational book.
I went in with no other expectations, and yet I was disappointed. I was unaware that he was involved in the debate on whether or not Pluto should be considered a planet, and thus was a bit bored to see that the book was largely about his involvement, and the reaction from the public. I was sort of hoping that the book would be about, well, Pluto.
The first half of the book is actually about the solar system, and is quite interesting. DeGrasse Tyson does a good job of explaining the nature of Pluto and why it might legitimately be classified as a Kuyper object instead of a planet. He certainly convinced me, through simple facts and logic. The second half of the book, on the other hand, is not about astronomy at all--it's about how people feel about Pluto. It quotes emails and cartoons and poetry and letters from school children. (Speaking of which, why on earth would an elementary school teacher tell all the children to write letters to a scientist saying they want the facts to be different? What's the point? And I can't imagine that the 2nd graders would have much of an opinion of their own on the matter unless the teacher had first primed them to write the letters. Again, what's the point?)
The whole book is aimed low, probably around the middle school level. It has lots of pictures and cartoons and is written to be extremely accessible. It's also altogether too slight, and even so it feels padded. I think I might have liked this book better if I'd read it when I was 12. I was just expecting a lot more. Like a book about Pluto, not padded out by internet arguments, newspaper headlines, or letters from children. But perhaps my expectations were too high.
I went in with no other expectations, and yet I was disappointed. I was unaware that he was involved in the debate on whether or not Pluto should be considered a planet, and thus was a bit bored to see that the book was largely about his involvement, and the reaction from the public. I was sort of hoping that the book would be about, well, Pluto.
The first half of the book is actually about the solar system, and is quite interesting. DeGrasse Tyson does a good job of explaining the nature of Pluto and why it might legitimately be classified as a Kuyper object instead of a planet. He certainly convinced me, through simple facts and logic. The second half of the book, on the other hand, is not about astronomy at all--it's about how people feel about Pluto. It quotes emails and cartoons and poetry and letters from school children. (Speaking of which, why on earth would an elementary school teacher tell all the children to write letters to a scientist saying they want the facts to be different? What's the point? And I can't imagine that the 2nd graders would have much of an opinion of their own on the matter unless the teacher had first primed them to write the letters. Again, what's the point?)
The whole book is aimed low, probably around the middle school level. It has lots of pictures and cartoons and is written to be extremely accessible. It's also altogether too slight, and even so it feels padded. I think I might have liked this book better if I'd read it when I was 12. I was just expecting a lot more. Like a book about Pluto, not padded out by internet arguments, newspaper headlines, or letters from children. But perhaps my expectations were too high.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Hugo Nominees
The 2009 Hugo Nominees have been announced. Here are the works nominated for best novel:
Anathem by Neal Stephenson
The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman
Little Brother by Cory Doctorow
Saturn's Children by Charles Stross
Zoe's Tale by John Scalzi
Of these works, I've read Anathem and The Graveyard Book. I liked both, which is encouraging, since my tastes usually do not align very closely with most of the rest of the Hugo voters. In a way it's a sort of predictable list, since these are writers who tend to appear on the ballot when they have work out. Stephenson, Gaiman, Stross, and Scalzi have won Hugos before. Doctorow hasn't won a Hugo, but has been nominated before, in one of the short fiction categories. Both Scalzi and Doctorow have won the John W. Campbell Award. So it seems all very safe and predictable, with the voters choosing writers they've shown they like to choose.
But this this is actually more interesting than it appears at first glance, because there are two different sorts of books here. Three of the books are children's/young adult works, from what I've heard (I've only actually read one of them, so I'm basing this on things I've read about them). Has that happened before? I recall an uproar when Rowling won the Hugo in 2001, wasn't it? But I'm not sure that people were mad because it was a children's book as much as they thought it just wasn't good enough to deserve a Hugo.
A lot of people are very excited about what's going on the in the young adult field right now, and a lot of adults are reading young adult works. I'm not one of them, personally. I didn't like young adult books even when I was their target audience. My mother would go to the library and check books out of the YA section and read them, while I was happily reading out of the adult shelves. I occasionally read a YA book, but they usually aren't very satisfying for me. And since I'm not the target audience, that's not surprising. I left those years of my life behind me quite happily, and have no desire to go back. That said, I read The Graveyard Book and found it a pleasant enough way to spend a couple of hours, but I never even considered it for my Hugo nominating ballot.
So who will I vote for? I don't know yet, because I have some more reading to do. But I liked the Stephenson, I am interested in the Stross, I think the Gaiman is too slight, and past reading has shown I have an averse reaction to Scalzi and Doctorow. So it's probably going to be one of the adult books for me.
Anathem by Neal Stephenson
The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman
Little Brother by Cory Doctorow
Saturn's Children by Charles Stross
Zoe's Tale by John Scalzi
Of these works, I've read Anathem and The Graveyard Book. I liked both, which is encouraging, since my tastes usually do not align very closely with most of the rest of the Hugo voters. In a way it's a sort of predictable list, since these are writers who tend to appear on the ballot when they have work out. Stephenson, Gaiman, Stross, and Scalzi have won Hugos before. Doctorow hasn't won a Hugo, but has been nominated before, in one of the short fiction categories. Both Scalzi and Doctorow have won the John W. Campbell Award. So it seems all very safe and predictable, with the voters choosing writers they've shown they like to choose.
But this this is actually more interesting than it appears at first glance, because there are two different sorts of books here. Three of the books are children's/young adult works, from what I've heard (I've only actually read one of them, so I'm basing this on things I've read about them). Has that happened before? I recall an uproar when Rowling won the Hugo in 2001, wasn't it? But I'm not sure that people were mad because it was a children's book as much as they thought it just wasn't good enough to deserve a Hugo.
A lot of people are very excited about what's going on the in the young adult field right now, and a lot of adults are reading young adult works. I'm not one of them, personally. I didn't like young adult books even when I was their target audience. My mother would go to the library and check books out of the YA section and read them, while I was happily reading out of the adult shelves. I occasionally read a YA book, but they usually aren't very satisfying for me. And since I'm not the target audience, that's not surprising. I left those years of my life behind me quite happily, and have no desire to go back. That said, I read The Graveyard Book and found it a pleasant enough way to spend a couple of hours, but I never even considered it for my Hugo nominating ballot.
So who will I vote for? I don't know yet, because I have some more reading to do. But I liked the Stephenson, I am interested in the Stross, I think the Gaiman is too slight, and past reading has shown I have an averse reaction to Scalzi and Doctorow. So it's probably going to be one of the adult books for me.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Torpedo Juice by Tim Dorsey
I should have written this entry last weekend, when I finished the book. I've read several other things since then, and started another by this author. I have probably forgotten things I would have said a week ago, but here goes:
Torpedo Juice is the seventh novel by Florida writer Tim Dorsey. It is the first of his that I've read, but I am now going to find the rest of them. In rough terms it could be described as a mix of Hiaasen and Dexter, except less restrained, and I'm sure I'm not the first one to make such a comparison.
Set mostly in the Florida Keys, the main character of Torpedo Juice is Serge, a hyperactive serial killer. Serge has decided that he wants to get married--now he just needs to find a bride. Accompanied by his stoner friend Coleman, Serge attempts to woo a member of the fairer sex. After a few false starts, he is eventually successful, but discovers that married life isn't quite the bliss he had imagined it would be. There are also subplots involving drug dealers and another serial killer. The book is funny-- I actually laughed out loud, and I rarely do that when reading. Serge is odd and Coleman outright repulsive, but they can still be the heroes because everyone around them is horrible. It's hard to feel sympathetic when someone kills a psycho drug dealer or a roofing salesman who makes a living pressuring people into having unnecessary work done. Dorsey is very pointed about the lowlifes and conmen who inhabit Florida, and it's always pleasant to see them murdered.
Here is Serge pontificating on the Keys:
"Like no other place on earth. Raw natural beauty, relentless freedom, unorthodox natives. A friend told me something else about the Keys I never forgot: Down here, nobody is who they seem to be. When people in other parts of the country want to reinvent themselves, they come to Florida. But when people in Florida want to reinvent themselves, they come to the Keys."
I enjoyed Torpedo Juice very much, and have tracked down the first book in the series. I'm not enjoying it as much--I think Dorsey has settled into his characters with practice. But it is still a good, silly read, and I look forward to the rest of the series.
Torpedo Juice is the seventh novel by Florida writer Tim Dorsey. It is the first of his that I've read, but I am now going to find the rest of them. In rough terms it could be described as a mix of Hiaasen and Dexter, except less restrained, and I'm sure I'm not the first one to make such a comparison.
Set mostly in the Florida Keys, the main character of Torpedo Juice is Serge, a hyperactive serial killer. Serge has decided that he wants to get married--now he just needs to find a bride. Accompanied by his stoner friend Coleman, Serge attempts to woo a member of the fairer sex. After a few false starts, he is eventually successful, but discovers that married life isn't quite the bliss he had imagined it would be. There are also subplots involving drug dealers and another serial killer. The book is funny-- I actually laughed out loud, and I rarely do that when reading. Serge is odd and Coleman outright repulsive, but they can still be the heroes because everyone around them is horrible. It's hard to feel sympathetic when someone kills a psycho drug dealer or a roofing salesman who makes a living pressuring people into having unnecessary work done. Dorsey is very pointed about the lowlifes and conmen who inhabit Florida, and it's always pleasant to see them murdered.
Here is Serge pontificating on the Keys:
"Like no other place on earth. Raw natural beauty, relentless freedom, unorthodox natives. A friend told me something else about the Keys I never forgot: Down here, nobody is who they seem to be. When people in other parts of the country want to reinvent themselves, they come to Florida. But when people in Florida want to reinvent themselves, they come to the Keys."
I enjoyed Torpedo Juice very much, and have tracked down the first book in the series. I'm not enjoying it as much--I think Dorsey has settled into his characters with practice. But it is still a good, silly read, and I look forward to the rest of the series.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Holy Crap
I had a Marie Callendar chicken pot pie for lunch. I'm the sort of person who reads labels before I buy, and I noted that it had 520 calories, which is a good size for lunch.
What I didn't realize until a moment ago is that one frozen pot pie is supposed to be 2 servings. Which is absurd and preposterous. Nobody cuts their frozen pot pie in half to save the rest for later. What is wrong with those people?! That means it was 1080 calories and 62 grams of fat. And, frankly, it wasn't nearly good enough to justify that many calories. Really good onion rings are worth it. Cheesecake is worth it. Frozen pot pies are not worth it. I'd already noted that it had too much crust and not enough filling, but I don't need to worry about that, because I won't ever buy it again.
What I didn't realize until a moment ago is that one frozen pot pie is supposed to be 2 servings. Which is absurd and preposterous. Nobody cuts their frozen pot pie in half to save the rest for later. What is wrong with those people?! That means it was 1080 calories and 62 grams of fat. And, frankly, it wasn't nearly good enough to justify that many calories. Really good onion rings are worth it. Cheesecake is worth it. Frozen pot pies are not worth it. I'd already noted that it had too much crust and not enough filling, but I don't need to worry about that, because I won't ever buy it again.
Sunset at Blandings by P.G. Wodehouse
Sunset at Blandings is Wodehouse's final novel, left incomplete when he died in 1975 at age 93. I didn't realize this when I started it, and so was rather disappointed when it stopped before the end of the story.
It is a typically Wodehouseian tale of subterfuge and embarrassment. Victoria Underwood, stepdaughter to Lady Florence, has made the mistake of falling in love with an unsuitable young man, and has been sent into exile at Blandings, the family estate, until she has forgotten him or found someone else to marry. Her uncle, Galahad Threepwood, is sympathetic to her plight, and hopes to bring the young man into the estate under an alias so that he can win over Vicky's family and gain approval to marry her. When Galahad's brother, Lord Emsworth, complains that he cannot find an artist to paint his prized pig, Vicky's lover is summoned to take the commission. However they are all going to need to be very clever and lucky to get anything past the Gorgons of the novel, Lady Florence and her friend Brenda Piper, both strong-willed, no-nonsense middle-aged women. Meanwhile Brenda's brother Sir James Piper, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, would like to propose marriage to Lady Florence's sister Diana, but he's too embarrassed to do it in front of his bodyguard, and the man won't leave him alone. Can he summon the nerve, or escape his bodyguard's attentions long enough to pop the question?
The second half of the book shares Wodehouse's notes, and the evolution of the story, and how he apparently planned to finish the novel. It is interesting to see how Wodehouse worked his way through the book, writing out his ideas and changing his mind and trying to figure out how to bring it all to the resolution he desired. It was an educational experience about the writing process, and quite interesting to me, but I still would have preferred to have read the novel complete.
It is a typically Wodehouseian tale of subterfuge and embarrassment. Victoria Underwood, stepdaughter to Lady Florence, has made the mistake of falling in love with an unsuitable young man, and has been sent into exile at Blandings, the family estate, until she has forgotten him or found someone else to marry. Her uncle, Galahad Threepwood, is sympathetic to her plight, and hopes to bring the young man into the estate under an alias so that he can win over Vicky's family and gain approval to marry her. When Galahad's brother, Lord Emsworth, complains that he cannot find an artist to paint his prized pig, Vicky's lover is summoned to take the commission. However they are all going to need to be very clever and lucky to get anything past the Gorgons of the novel, Lady Florence and her friend Brenda Piper, both strong-willed, no-nonsense middle-aged women. Meanwhile Brenda's brother Sir James Piper, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, would like to propose marriage to Lady Florence's sister Diana, but he's too embarrassed to do it in front of his bodyguard, and the man won't leave him alone. Can he summon the nerve, or escape his bodyguard's attentions long enough to pop the question?
The second half of the book shares Wodehouse's notes, and the evolution of the story, and how he apparently planned to finish the novel. It is interesting to see how Wodehouse worked his way through the book, writing out his ideas and changing his mind and trying to figure out how to bring it all to the resolution he desired. It was an educational experience about the writing process, and quite interesting to me, but I still would have preferred to have read the novel complete.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Apple Betty and Sloppy Joe
The Sanvidge sisters grew up in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, in the 1950s and 1960s. Apple Betty and Sloppy Joe is a tribute to the food of their childhood. It is filled with recipes and memories of their parents, grandparents, and neighbors, all told with good humor. I'm about 15 years younger than the youngest Sanvidge sister, so my experiences differed somewhat from theirs, but there was still a lot of overlap. I, too, grew up on Bisquick, Miracle Whip, and canned fruit cocktail. It brought back a lot of childhood food memories for me, and made me think about meals at the family lake cabin in northern Wisconsin with relatives who have since passed away. I think that soon I am going to have to make myself a batch of my Aunt Connie's spaghetti, because I haven't had it in a very long time.
I read the book through cover to cover, and am now going through a second time making a list of the recipes I want to try. A lot of them don't appeal to me--I vowed long ago that I would never again make a recipe containing Bisquick, canned cream of mushroom soup, or Cool Whip. I still like Miracle Whip, though. And there are still a lot of good-looking recipes that I want to try, and over the next few weeks I plan to do some cooking out of this book.
I read the book through cover to cover, and am now going through a second time making a list of the recipes I want to try. A lot of them don't appeal to me--I vowed long ago that I would never again make a recipe containing Bisquick, canned cream of mushroom soup, or Cool Whip. I still like Miracle Whip, though. And there are still a lot of good-looking recipes that I want to try, and over the next few weeks I plan to do some cooking out of this book.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
The Gardner Heist by Ulrich Boser
The Gardner Heist is a nonfiction work about stolen art. Specifically, it is about the art stolen from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston in 1990. It is a robbery that is well-known both because the museum had poor security and no insurance and because it has never been solved. Several very valuable paintings were removed, while other, equally valuable paintings, were left intact, almost as if the thieves had been given a list of works to acquire. The art has never been recovered, but the museum still has the empty frames hanging on the wall in the expectation that some day the paintings will be returned to them.
Boser begins with a brief description of the theft and the works stolen, and then talks about Harold Smith, an insurance adjuster who later became an art recovery specialist. Smith is a very interesting man who had a very interesting career until his death in 2005 of cancer. This part of the book is very interesting and enjoyable. After Smith died Boser acquired his files on the case, and decided to investigate the matter himself. Unfortunately the rest of the book is not so interesting.
The Gardner Heist reminds me a bit of the film Zodiac, in which a cartoonist becomes fascinated by the Zodiac killer, and when others stop investigating the cartoonist steps in and decides to investigate himself, becoming obsessed and never solving the case. Boser did that. And when the book stopped being about the theft or the art world and started being about Boser and his search, I lost interest. So I will do everyone a favor and condense the second half of the book so you don't have to read it: probably the Boston Mob acquired the missing paintings, and may have sent them over to the IRA. Someone still owns them, but by now they may be hopelessly damaged. The end.
Nevertheless, I thought that the first half of the book was still pretty interesting and worth reading. Because Boser does one thing very well, and that is to describe art and explain the power that good art has over the viewer. It is not easy to verbalize that--to explain what is wonderful about good art. I work in the arts, and meet artists and art-lovers nearly every day, but this book did more to remind me of what I love about good art than anything has in a long time.
Boser begins with a brief description of the theft and the works stolen, and then talks about Harold Smith, an insurance adjuster who later became an art recovery specialist. Smith is a very interesting man who had a very interesting career until his death in 2005 of cancer. This part of the book is very interesting and enjoyable. After Smith died Boser acquired his files on the case, and decided to investigate the matter himself. Unfortunately the rest of the book is not so interesting.
The Gardner Heist reminds me a bit of the film Zodiac, in which a cartoonist becomes fascinated by the Zodiac killer, and when others stop investigating the cartoonist steps in and decides to investigate himself, becoming obsessed and never solving the case. Boser did that. And when the book stopped being about the theft or the art world and started being about Boser and his search, I lost interest. So I will do everyone a favor and condense the second half of the book so you don't have to read it: probably the Boston Mob acquired the missing paintings, and may have sent them over to the IRA. Someone still owns them, but by now they may be hopelessly damaged. The end.
Nevertheless, I thought that the first half of the book was still pretty interesting and worth reading. Because Boser does one thing very well, and that is to describe art and explain the power that good art has over the viewer. It is not easy to verbalize that--to explain what is wonderful about good art. I work in the arts, and meet artists and art-lovers nearly every day, but this book did more to remind me of what I love about good art than anything has in a long time.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
The Voyage of the Sable Keech by Neal Asher
The Voyage of the Sable Keech is the sequel to one of my favorite novels, The Skinner. It takes place on the planet Spatterjay, where all the wildlife is deadly and will eat anything that happens by, including humans. But the life here has evolved for survival, and anything or anyone that has survives being attacked by the leeches is infected with a virus that makes them effectively immortal. The humans living on Spatterjay are called Hoopers, and as they grow older they grow more invulnerable, with wounds healing quickly and their strength increasing.
Spatterjay is mostly a watery planet, and the Hoopers are mostly salty sea folk, and generally quite likeable. They are one of the things I like best about The Skinner. However, we spend less time with the Hoopers in this volume. The Voyage of the Sable Keech takes place ten years after The Skinner, but involves some of the same characters. There are a few story lines: one is about Vrell, the last survivor of the Prador attack ten years earlier. He has had time to regroup and is ready to cause trouble again. One story is about a madman who builds a giant sailing ship called the Sable Keech, and mounts an expedition to lead his followers to reincarnation. One story involves agents of the Wasps (from Earth, who have been discovered to be sentient, and who send agents all over the galaxy on mysterious missions), including two androids who represent opposing sides of an argument and may destroy the planet Spatterjay to win. And the final main plot narrative is from the point of view of a giant sea whelk who gets angry and starts following one of the Hoopers' sailing ships.
The Voyage of the Sable Keech is a big, complicated book, and I sort of feel I should have liked it better than I did. It has the stuff I like about Asher's writing: big monsters, big explosions, big stakes, and Old Captains. And certainly I enjoyed The Voyage of the Sable Keech, but I just didn't love it quite as much as I'd hoped I would. I'm having trouble putting my finger on exactly why, but here's my best guess: the storytelling isn't quite as immediate as I'd like. It felt like we were being held slightly removed from the characters. I think we spent more time inside the head of the giant sea whelk than any other character, and her story line wasn't really that interesting.
I am glad that The Voyage of the Sable Keech wasn't just a retread of the Prador storyline of The Skinner, but still having three major Problems going on at the same time may have been too many. I found the Hornets' androids to be interesting characters, but their storyline was kind of a mess, and it might have been a better book without that thread. There was still more than enough plot to fill a book if that were left out. And while I didn't mind the story of the giant sea whelk, I also don't think it had much point except allowing us to see what was going on with Captain Ambel occasionally.
So, here we are: I liked The Voyage of the Sable Keech. I am happy I read it. But I also didn't find it quite as satisfying as some of Asher's other novels. But I've got Polity Agent in the pile and will pick it up in a few weeks, and I look forward to reading it.
Spatterjay is mostly a watery planet, and the Hoopers are mostly salty sea folk, and generally quite likeable. They are one of the things I like best about The Skinner. However, we spend less time with the Hoopers in this volume. The Voyage of the Sable Keech takes place ten years after The Skinner, but involves some of the same characters. There are a few story lines: one is about Vrell, the last survivor of the Prador attack ten years earlier. He has had time to regroup and is ready to cause trouble again. One story is about a madman who builds a giant sailing ship called the Sable Keech, and mounts an expedition to lead his followers to reincarnation. One story involves agents of the Wasps (from Earth, who have been discovered to be sentient, and who send agents all over the galaxy on mysterious missions), including two androids who represent opposing sides of an argument and may destroy the planet Spatterjay to win. And the final main plot narrative is from the point of view of a giant sea whelk who gets angry and starts following one of the Hoopers' sailing ships.
The Voyage of the Sable Keech is a big, complicated book, and I sort of feel I should have liked it better than I did. It has the stuff I like about Asher's writing: big monsters, big explosions, big stakes, and Old Captains. And certainly I enjoyed The Voyage of the Sable Keech, but I just didn't love it quite as much as I'd hoped I would. I'm having trouble putting my finger on exactly why, but here's my best guess: the storytelling isn't quite as immediate as I'd like. It felt like we were being held slightly removed from the characters. I think we spent more time inside the head of the giant sea whelk than any other character, and her story line wasn't really that interesting.
I am glad that The Voyage of the Sable Keech wasn't just a retread of the Prador storyline of The Skinner, but still having three major Problems going on at the same time may have been too many. I found the Hornets' androids to be interesting characters, but their storyline was kind of a mess, and it might have been a better book without that thread. There was still more than enough plot to fill a book if that were left out. And while I didn't mind the story of the giant sea whelk, I also don't think it had much point except allowing us to see what was going on with Captain Ambel occasionally.
So, here we are: I liked The Voyage of the Sable Keech. I am happy I read it. But I also didn't find it quite as satisfying as some of Asher's other novels. But I've got Polity Agent in the pile and will pick it up in a few weeks, and I look forward to reading it.
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