Rue is on old woman who was once a member of the Academy of Kindnesses, an organization of women who are human avatars of the vengeance-minded Furies. When a raiding party kills her entire village (including herself!), she is duty-bound to seek revenge on behalf of her murdered friends. The novel rotates between three story threads: one of old-age Rue's vengeance quest and two of her younger years before and during her time as an acolyte at the Academy. The time-displaced narrative maximizes the twisty, shock-fueled storytelling that Lawrence is known for. Another hallmark of his writing is bone-crushing, blood-splattering violence, and there is no shortage of it here. A great writer is one who understands why his readers are showing up to the party.

I won't spoil this for those who have not started the series, but I will say that this sequel is superior to the first book in every way. It introduces a host of fascinating new characters, both human and alien, and sends familiar characters into surprising (even shocking) uncharted places. Carryx civilization is further illuminated for the reader and the more we learn, the more I want this to be more than just a trilogy. I rated the first book - The Mercy of Gods - a little lower than this one but it is definitely worth reading to set up this excellent book and what I anticipate will be a remarkable finale. Anyone who read The Expanse is aware that James S.A. Corey knows how to stick the landing.

The seventh Murderbot adventure is set immediately after the events of Network Effect, where Preservation and the University are attempting to convince the Pre-Corporate Rim colonists not to sign indentured contracts with the ruthless Barish-Estranza corporation. Complicating matters are the people and machines still being exposed to mysterious alien contamination, and the fact that Murderbot has no armor and is also glitching out due to a false memory disrupting its functions.

The first half of the novel is more "Murderbot antics" than story, and while Murderbot antics are always entertaining, it was starting to feel like filler until the story shifted into a new gear about halfway through. At from that point it's as good a tale as any in the Murderbot canon. The suspensful climax had a very Western movie feel to it that I found delightful. 

The title of this novel is a marketing department’s dream come true. It’s the kind of title that tells potential readers what the book is about without them even having to read the synopsis. The book is about time travel (obviously). There are rules to traveling through time and the third one is clearly important, and, by implication, will almost certainly be broken. The butterfly (effect) on the cover is also a nice piece of foreshadowing. I fully admit that I judged this book by its cover before I even opened it.

What actually occurs between those covers is a bit of a mixed bag. The premise is straightforward enough: Beth Darlow is a physicist who, along with her late husband Colson, invented a machine that can transport a person’s consciousness back in time to an earlier point in one’s life, where according to the infamous third rule, one can only observe said past event, but cannot affect it. Beth is the only one who is allowed to use the machine, and upon returning from one of her trips she must answer an identical set of questions – and hopefully give an identical set of answers – to those asked before the she activated the machine, to ensure the third rule has held true. Beth also has a sufficiently adorable daughter, Isabelle, who she loves deeply but neglects too often in favor of her work, and an insufferable boss who is trying to get her sidelined from the project. Additionally, there is the question of why Beth’s trips are only sending her back to her most traumatic memories, specifically the plane crash that she survived as a child while her entire family perished, and the night her husband died in a car accident. These elements provide ample dramatic tension to carry the reader’s interest through much of the novel.

The biggest problem with the novel is that most lay, non-scientist persons are already aware of the “observer effect”, so the fact that none of the scientists in the story (least of all Beth) points out the fundamental absurdity of relying on this untenable third rule that threatens their very existence is baffling. The novel’s big twist relies entirely on this fallacy and leads to Beth’s Homer Simpson moment (“Doh! Why didn’t I think of this before!”), unintentionally acknowledging the very fatal flaw that undermines the novel’s premise from the start. Even for readers who were not aware of the observer effect when they picked up the book, the fact that the scientist protagonist fully admits to “forgetting” a fundamental principal that every scientist in the world is aware of is a problem that is difficult to look past.

My interest in the remainder of the novel deflated like a balloon after this. What had otherwise been a well-plotted story with solid, relatable characters turned into a bit of a letdown. Discovering that the answer to the one question that had been bugging me throughout the book – why is no one addressing the observer effect? – is that the author was just hoping I wouldn’t notice, is tough to overlook.

This terrific sequel to The Icarus Plot finds Roarke and Selene continuing their "day job" scouting new worlds while working undercover for the Icarus Group to find portals left behind by a long-vanished alien race. No sooner do they discover a mysterious figure stalking them are they accused of murdering said stalker. This of course leads them to conflict with the villainous Paath, and more physics-defying portal fun ensues. Two books in and Roarke constantly quoting his father's wacky sayings still hasn't gotten old.  Fast-paced storytelling; Zahn at his classic best.

I finally got around to reading this, in anticipation of the sequel's publication next week. I will say I was both satisfied and slightly disappointed. The novel hits all the right buttons you would expect from the authors of The Expanse: compelling narrative, great characters, strong visuals, terrifying aliens. The story involves a human colony world that is invaded and subsumed by an alien empire called the Carryx, and the aftermath of that disaster. A research group is brought to the Carryx homeworld to determine the "usefulness" of human civilization to the empire. The humans are forced to ask themselves if they should make themselves useful and consign their civilization to permanent enslavement, or rebel and face certain extinction. The disappointing aspect of the novel is that the ending is basically telegraphed two-thirds of the way through, and though I read on expecting some sort of surprise reversal that would upend my expectations, it actually ended exactly the way it told me it would. This slightly soured an otherwise terrific reading experience.

The first six books in this series were published when I was in high school and I read them all eagerly. In college I had less time for personal reading and put the series aside, intending to pick it up again when I had more free time, but I never did. I recently watched the first season of the tv series, which was neither especially good nor especially bad, but it did make me want to pick up the books again. The show didn't quite gel with my (admittedly decades old) memories of the first novel, so I thought it best to start from the beginning. It's weird picking up a book that enthralled me at 14 and thinking "it can't be as good I believed it was then", and then finding out it is actually better. For such a long novel it moves at a rather windswept pace, relentless once the heroes are chased from Emond's Field and out into a wider world they have little understanding of. And even at that pace it is incredibly detailed and precise; it really feels like you've spent a lot of time getting to know the characters inside and out, despite the constant peril the find themselves thrown in. It is a young persons' novel that nonetheless feels grown up and world-weary, which, I suppose, describes all the best young persons' novels, before they were dumbed down and marketed as "YA". I'm very happy I revisited this and am looking forward to 49-year-old me reading this series through to the end. 

The Shattering Peace is neither the best, nor the worst of Scalzi's Old Man's War novels. It covets the brisk pace, breezy aloofness and excessive verbosity that have become the DNA of Scalzi's recent works like the Interdependency Series. What is gone is the frantic, almost unhinged quality that made his early books so appealing. In its place is a kind of pleasant but slightly dull stoicism; perhaps a boon for some in these cynical times, so if that is your bag you may add another star to this review.

This sequel elevates a minor character from the series' cannon to the protagonist's role: Gretchen Trujillo, once the best pal of Zoe Boutin Perry, now an analyst for the Colonial Union State Department, is assigned a secret mission to find out what happened to an experimental and illegal colony that disappeared without a trace. If the colony's existence were to be revealed to the public it would, as the novel's title suggests, shatter the delicate peace between the human Colonial Union and the alien Conclave. There is also evidence that the deadly and technologically superior Consu are somehow involved.

This seventh entry in the series is no less smart, or smart aleck-y, than the previous ones. Despite the good pacing and easygoing vibes, I found it a little disappointing next to 2015s The End of All Things, which I felt carried a bit more weight. Or perhaps I am simply outgrowing this author?

The Shattering Peace will still satisfy fans of newer Scalzi, of whom there are plenty. If you are a particular fan of snarky banter, which the novel has in excess, you may add yet another star.

Ann Leckie's latest novel is a standalone effort set in her award-winning Ancillary universe, though the term standalone should come with a caveat anytime it refers to a part of an already established canon. Translation State, like the previous standalone Provenance, offers an expanded understanding of the world Leckie established in her Radch trilogy, but probably shouldn't be thought of as an entry point to the universe. It is also, for me, the least successful of Leckie's novels, though seemingly still an essential one for her readers, as it delves into several aspects of the earlier novels that were left ambiguous or incomplete.

The novel begins with three separate storylines that converge as the novel progresses. It kicks of with Enae, whose Grandmaman and sole benefactor has recently died. Enae finds hirself disinherited upon learning that Grandmaman had essentially been broke, and only managed to keep herself and Enae afloat by trading her estate and the family name to a nouveau riche upstart for a sizeable personal allowance. Luckily for Enae, Grandmaman had cooked up an agreement with this interloper to provide for hir (Enae) after her passing. So Enae is secured a position at the Office of Diplomacy, and sent on a errand to find out the whereabouts of, or to learn the ultimate fate of, a long missing Presger Translator. (For the uninitiated, the treaty with the alien Presger is the only thing keeping human civilization from crumbling, and the Translators - an engineered race of people separate from the Presger themselves - are essential to the treaty's continued health.) Enae quickly learns that sie is not expected to actually complete the assignment, but simply to travel about and report back hir lack of success in doing so. Sie decides to make a go of it, anyway.

The other two threads follow Reet, an orphan who gets caught up in the machinations of a political faction of displaced people known as the Hikipi, and Qven, an adolescent Presger Translator who is considered damaged goods after suffering a terrifying sexual assault. Explaining how the plot brings these disparate individuals together would spoil to much, though it quickly becomes clear that the confluence of circumstances has far-reaching implications for the upcoming Conclave, which was aggressively teased in Provenance and given even more weight here.

Translation State has many of the attributes that won Leckie her loyal fan base: the social and political maneuverings; her tart, sometimes goofy sense of humor; the imaginative perils and pitfalls she throws in her characters' paths. We get to learn more about the the Geck and the Rrrrrr, and especially the thoroughly fascinating Presger Translators, even if the Presger themselves are still shrouded in mystery.

Where Translation State falls short for me - and it's a pretty big fall - is in the three main characters themselves. Our introduction to Enae, who seemingly spent hir life up until Grandmaman's death showing no real initiative or assertiveness (at least, not that we are made aware of) does nothing but when the plot requires sie do so, with little indication of what might have brought about this sea change. That sie fades somewhat into the background as Reet and Qven take center stage is not surprising. Those two characters, whom the main action of the novel is visited upon, are impossibly earnest, cloying in their preciousness - much in the way adults idealize adolescence, rather than being believably adolescent (a common problem in many YA novels). Not to mention (sorry if this is too spoilery) a big chunk of the novel deals with their growing bond of friendship, which consists entirely of them lying in bed and binge-watching a streaming show. This is a growing trend in science fiction - the lionizing of modern-day consumerist habits in a far-future setting - and until now I would have hoped an author of Leckie's considerable gifts would steer clear of it, but here we are.

As a harbinger of things to come, Translation State gives readers plenty to look forward to, but for this reader, at least, less to hold onto right now.

The plot of McDevitt's new Alex Benedict novel recalls his most recent Priscilla Hutchins novel, "The Long Sunset", which finds the author spinning a first contact scenario through a narrative of discovery and mystery. The book is like a comfortable old pair of shoes, for better or worse: its familiarity is beguiling and relaxing, though at some point you stop noticing it's even there.

McDevitt makes it easy to return to the far future world that Alex and his pilot Chase Kolpath inhabit. It is a largely pleasant, low-conflict future, though not entirely lacking in the typical anxieties that attend human society. Alex, now re-united with his recently recovered Uncle Gabe, is still selling antiquities and artifacts, and Chase is still getting him wherever he needs to go. The story kicks off when an exploratory vessel stumbles on a tiny alien colony in the furthest reaches of known space. Up until then the only other alien race humans had encountered were the Ashiyyur, with whom they fought a long and devastating war before achieving a peaceful resolution. So when a follow-up mission is sent to make first contact, they are even more surprised to discover that the colony has completely vanished, leaving no trace of its presence behind.

In another odd twist, a third, completely different alien race of spider-like humanoids shows up to make first contact with humans. These folks, the Ulakans, are friendly and inquisitive, and their culture is so similar to that of humanity that one of their great works of literature seems lifted from Shakespeare.

While the encounter with the Ulakans is a positive one in contrast with their previous encounter with the Ashiyyur, the question of whether to send another ship out to look for the missing alien colony becomes a political hot potato: the general consensus is, we got lucky with the Ulakans, who is to say whether these elusive alien colonists have similar goodwill and peaceful intentions or not? It is decided that no further missions to that star system will take place, and furthermore anyone who attempts to privately undergo a mission there will be subject to legal penalties.

Alex is of course having none of that. Soon he and Chase have put together a party to reach out and find where the lost colony went, and hopefully pick up a few artifacts along the way that might make up the losses they will incur for defying the law.
The novel's strengths are those typical of McDevitt's fiction. His ability to craft an engrossing and suspenseful scientific mystery has not diminished over the decades, and his characters are as likable, and likeably flawed, as ever. In this case, though, his weaknesses are magnified by design. McDevitt has always been a proponent of the idea that cultures will necessarily evolve in the general direction that European civilization has taken, hence the very Eurocentric slant of future humanity and the aliens they encounter. It bogs the story down in a conceit that isn't particularly illuminating or wonderous - that humanity ventures out to the far reaches of the galaxy to find alien races that are really kind of boring and like us. Additionally, the lack of a true antagonist, or anything but minor obstacles in Alex and company's path, keeps the stakes too low for this to be anything other than a minor entry in McDevitt's canon.