A simple but profound futuristic story of the painful effects of colonization.
Aliens find their quiet lives thrown into turmoil when humans explore their planet in Bailey’s SF debut.
Kelvoo is a member of a peaceful, genderless species on the planet Kuw’baal. The kloormari’s intricate bodies—a mushroomlike eye at the top and double-jointed limbs with paddles for hands—make them expert multitaskers. As such, they don’t rely on modern technology and are shocked when humans from planet Terra (aka Earth) send a surveillance drone to their planet. Next, humans come in an even bigger ship, and although Kelvoo and other kloormari find the visitors “hideous,” they aren’t threatening. They teach the kloormari all about the Terran language (of which there seems to be only one), food, culture, and unfamiliar concepts, such as imagination and fictional stories. Sadly, a later group of humans isn’t as amiable; they trick nine kloormari, including Kelvoo, into joining a phony mission, enslave them, and show them some of the worst that humanity has to offer. Kelvoo and the others, pushed to the brink, find a way to escape their plight so they can get home. But will Kuw’baal be the same place they left behind? Aside from the preface, the entire narrative is made up of Kelvoo’s autobiographical account, featuring straightforward observations in simple, unadorned prose. Kelvoo’s willingness to accommodate Terrans’ unusual customs makes the protagonist endearing, and there are some lighthearted moments, as when kloormari become fascinated by Terran-provided Infotab tablets. The kloormari, who live up to a few centuries and birth offspring in just weeks, prove fascinating in their own right. Bailey’s message is blunt but affecting, as the humans cheat, rebuke, and subjugate a species that they don’t bother to understand, and readers will find it painful to watch the kloormari suffer such cruelty. However, the author also rounds out his novel with delightful details, including hints of other species who are part of a Planetary Alliance.
A simple but profound futuristic story of the painful effects of colonization.Pub Date: May 14, 2022
ISBN: 978-1-77810-241-7
Page Count: 394
Publisher: Philcora Enterprises Inc.
Review Posted Online: April 30, 2022
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 2022
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
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
Suspenseful, full of incident, and not obviously necessary.
Atwood goes back to Gilead.
The Handmaid’s Tale (1985), consistently regarded as a masterpiece of 20th-century literature, has gained new attention in recent years with the success of the Hulu series as well as fresh appreciation from readers who feel like this story has new relevance in America’s current political climate. Atwood herself has spoken about how news headlines have made her dystopian fiction seem eerily plausible, and it’s not difficult to imagine her wanting to revisit Gilead as the TV show has sped past where her narrative ended. Like the novel that preceded it, this sequel is presented as found documents—first-person accounts of life inside a misogynistic theocracy from three informants. There is Agnes Jemima, a girl who rejects the marriage her family arranges for her but still has faith in God and Gilead. There’s Daisy, who learns on her 16th birthday that her whole life has been a lie. And there's Aunt Lydia, the woman responsible for turning women into Handmaids. This approach gives readers insight into different aspects of life inside and outside Gilead, but it also leads to a book that sometimes feels overstuffed. The Handmaid’s Tale combined exquisite lyricism with a powerful sense of urgency, as if a thoughtful, perceptive woman was racing against time to give witness to her experience. That narrator hinted at more than she said; Atwood seemed to trust readers to fill in the gaps. This dynamic created an atmosphere of intimacy. However curious we might be about Gilead and the resistance operating outside that country, what we learn here is that what Atwood left unsaid in the first novel generated more horror and outrage than explicit detail can. And the more we get to know Agnes, Daisy, and Aunt Lydia, the less convincing they become. It’s hard, of course, to compete with a beloved classic, so maybe the best way to read this new book is to forget about The Handmaid’s Tale and enjoy it as an artful feminist thriller.
Suspenseful, full of incident, and not obviously necessary.Pub Date: Sept. 10, 2019
ISBN: 978-0-385-54378-1
Page Count: 432
Publisher: Nan A. Talese
Review Posted Online: Sept. 3, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2019
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
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