Nick Cutter went to the store, bought the largest bag of horror tropes and then poured them all into The Deep. Imagine a cross between Event Horizon, It and The Thing, with every other horror cliché you could think of sprinkled in and you get this book. Unfortunately, it doesn't work. Do you feel the horror? YEAH! But does it actually have any impact? No. It gets so horrid so fast that your mind just goes numb and asks itself why is it reading the story at all.

  The Deep has it all: horrible parents, child abuse, loving couple torn apart by child abduction, child fears, parental murder, psychopathy, body horror, supernatural horror, cosmic horror, claustrophobic horror, animal cruelty, interdimensional evil, gore, hopelessness, losing your mind, nightmares, global pandemic and, king of them all, "let's separate!" horror. Well, I am being a bit mean, because by that point nothing really mattered, but you get my drift.

  I guess there are two types of horror as far as I am concerned: intriguing and numbing. The first one is always built on hope, hope that the some character has a chance, if only they would make the best choices and would have a bit of luck, they could pull through. Maybe add some irony, something ridiculous that gives that person an edge when it matters most. The second one is just pointless witnessing of the suffering of another when they have no chance in hell they could pull through. The Deep veers really fast and really soon towards the second category. The horror is strong, but without a reason to exist. And boy does the guy fail to make the right choices!

  Yet, if you watched Event Horizon and thought it was great, like I did, maybe you will love this book, too. Personally I think this felt more experimental than, err... deep.

  Yes, I confess, I only expedited the reading of Mickey 7 because there is a Mickey 17 movie adaption with a pretty big budget and cool cast. I already see your eye roll for yet another review about an unreleased movie and not the actual book, but I promise I am writing about what I've read, so stick around :)

  This is a book akin to The Martian or maybe more the Bobiverse books, with which it also shares some plot elements: first person, light action, reasonable and emotionally stable protagonist and capable of being replicated after he dies or, as is the case of this story, when people thought he died. I had fun with it, read it really fast and served as a great palate cleanser after a really annoying book I slogged through before.

  It's not a masterpiece of literature, but it's good and fun. Edward Ashton is a decent writer and if I had an issue with his craft is with people being too consistent in their behavior. They all are neatly placed into their nice little boxes and they never get out of them, even in the face of traumatic deaths (of others or their own). The book also kind of drags, focusing too much on trivialities and less on the interesting aspects of the characters. However, this is the setup book, a first in a series as is tradition, so maybe the next volume, Antimatter Blues, will be better. I intend to read it, too. Maybe not immediately, though. Let's see how I feel about the movie.

  Talking about the movie, I think it's clear they are going to change the plot significantly, therefore the different title. And I get it. The story is about colonizing an alien planet after years of relativistic travel, a lot of internal monologues, flashbacks, and shortened stories of other colonies from books that he reads, but also gruesome deaths and insectile alien life. Hard to cram that into a movie and keep within the budget.

  A People's Future of the United States: Speculative Fiction from 25 Extraordinary Writers is one of those books. 25 different short stories about how liberals, gays, women, non neuro-normative people and people of color are abused or openly hunted by possible future American systems. And the regimes described are quite awful indeed, yet the overall feeling one gets from reading the book is just eye rolling disbelief. I only read it because I like how Victor LaValle writes, problem is he just edited this collection and wrote none of the stories inside and it was a grind to get this read.

  I blame the first story. It was so beautiful and reasonable, where a librarian shelters people from both sides of a divided America and they come together in discussing a single book they had all read. It set a tone that I couldn't wait to get more of. And the second story was the most strident, hysterical, yet at the same time bland piece of literature I've ever read! And it was followed by a lot of similar stories, where everybody who was gay, of color, autistic, female and sometimes all of the above was openly and legally terrorized by a system run by the evil conservative Whites. The tonal shift was so brusque I felt literary whiplash!

  Maybe when your subject is systematic abuse of minorities and you're also part of one or multiple of these minorities, it's pretty hard to get openly rejected. That's the only reasonable explanation I could find for the wide variety of quality in these stories. There were some that were really good. Unfortunately, only a few of them and most of the others could only kindly be called mediocre.

  I just couldn't believe it! The same people who were afraid of an ever more improbable future (The Handmaid's Tale feeling heavenly in comparison) in which non-normalcy is illegal, were describing with glee how the wheel was turning. For example, there was one where a genetic time travelling bomb backfired and all of America was now diverse. That kind of laughable diversity, with no national identity, just a bunch of people all being different from each other, looking different, yet having a united community and all of the American problems magically gone.

  I couldn't shake a quote from my head: slaves don't dream of freedom, but of becoming masters. The same people that were afraid of intolerance wrote short stories about us vs them, where "them" were caricaturesque inhuman villains and deserved everything coming to them.

  For sure there is some emotional catharsis to imagine a terrible future in which everything you hate is openly evil, thus giving you permission for all the fear and hate and extreme fantasies. Imagine Death Wish, but now the hero is a gay woman in a wheelchair killing fraternity bros. How is that not a movie already? Barf!

  What do you remember from the Terminator movies? It's the Skynet killer robot, obviously, the people who seem to always be related somehow, and a hero that needs saving for the sake of their work in the future, but running for their lives in the present. In Terminator Zero you get all of these, to the point that they feel a little overdone. But the animation is good and the story is interesting, adding some logical elements that I've only seen in Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, which I liked a lot and wanted more of. I loved that they set the action in a clearly different timeline than our own and also tried to make it clear the ridiculous cycle of trying to fix the past from the future.

  Unfortunately, they've decided to add children to the mix. And I mean children that need a nanny, not 24 year old Claire Danes. Most of the time it's the children and their very Japanese emotions filling the screen, while their father, a mysterious tech mogul, keeps saying cryptic things almost until the end of the movie for no good reason. The Terminator is thankfully not in the shape of Arnie and the human fighter from the future is a woman. It also is set in Japan. The series ends with a promise rather than with closure, although I doubt they will make a second season.

  It's eight episodes of 20 minutes each, but I think the story was a little too simple for 160 minutes and it could have easily been a more concise two hour animation film. What's the difference, really, between a series you release all at once and a feature film anyway?

  While I applaud stories said in animation - readers of this blog may already know that I believe that's how you do and say brave things today, especially in sci-fi and horror - being a Terminator story meant it was locked in some preestablished framework and couldn't be too creative. Just consider taking some pages out of Screamers, for example, and you understand what I mean. I would watch seasons and seasons of Terminator anime than hope for something decent in live action anymore. The thing is that they already are very far advanced in special effects, but those also cost a lot of money, meaning that you either underdeliver on viewer expectations or have to make a whole bunch of money to break even. Animation is not like that and it's also a lot more flexible.

  All in all I liked the show and I recommend it, but don't expect too much.

  In The Memory Police Yōko Ogawa describes a small Japanese island ruled by "the memory police", an organization with apparent total power and no opposition whose entire purpose is to make sure the things that "are disappeared" are physically destroyed and arrest anyone on the island who is able to remember them. A very interesting metaphor on the things that only hold value if we remember and fight for them.

  Unfortunately, in this book no one fights for anything! I expected some sort of revelation on how this magical police can make disappear concepts from the minds of people so thoroughly that they can't even put them back in their memory when holding them in their hands. Or some sort of solution to said problem. Some sort of misguided attempt at a revolution. Something! But these are Japanese people, if things are supposed to disappear, they go with it until they are all gone.

  Was the author trying to convey the same frustration that I felt while reading the book? People so ritualistic and conformist that they basically amount to non playing characters, running the same routine until someone turns the game off? Because this frustration only combined with the ethereal quality of internal monologues who noticed things happening and ... then did nothing at all.

  I can't say the book was not decently written and the idea was intriguing, but if you expect the story to go anywhere, well, it doesn't.

  The Stories of My Life is the autobiography of James Patterson, said to be "the most popular storyteller of our time" of which I honestly had not heard before, written in a bunch of very short and out of order chapters, a la Mrs. Bridge, in which he repeats incessantly to outline everything. Very ironic. I liked the character more than the book.

  You see, James Patterson is a type of person that you can't help but admire: he is good at sports, he is good at school, he is good with women, he is good with business and he is a famous writer. And all of this not because anyone handed anything to him, but through hard work and dedication. This guy is the American Dream made flesh.

  He meets famous writers, actors, sports people, business people, several presidents of the United States and so on, he becomes the CEO of the advertising firm he basically interned at and all of this while being nice to people, loving and caring about family and friends and feeling pretty good about himself. And all of this without cocaine!

  So I liked the main character, very inspiring, despite the times having changed so much as to make such a person impossible nowadays, but I can't say I liked the book. The shuffled nature of the stories doesn't really help. It's clear the guy had the outline of the story he wanted to tell, so why write it this way? It didn't improve anything. Is it to clarify that life is a string of scenes and their order and the narrative we tell to ourselves are not that important compared to doing the right thing at the present time? Perhaps. But then it's inevitable that the reader is going to try to unshuffle the scenes into something comprehensible.

  And then is the always present question with an autobiography: how real is all of this? I've read some that sound real and others that feel like the prose version of "Biggest & the Best", by Clawfinger. Are there things in the artificial gaps the author creates between these anecdotes that he doesn't feel like sharing or maybe is not even aware he doesn't? Are the stories in the book overblown to inflate the author's ego? Well, I don't think so. The book actually feels right. Maybe it's not at all accurate - after all that's what a writer's job is, to make things up - but it felt honest.

  What it didn't feel was personal. You see, Patterson is a good writer, he writes with humor and wit, but I didn't feel he was writing about himself, but about this character called Jim Patterson. While honest, it also felt overpolished, the edges smoothed off, and personal is what an autobiography should feel like, something perhaps even more important than being written well.

  Bottom line: really inspiring, felt real, but also impersonal enough to not merit the full mark. I liked it.

  Fortune's Fool is something that feels like Game of Thrones, but set in a 16th century type of world inspired by Spanish and Italian history, focused on a woman ex-princess, now warrior. A lot of intrigue, world building, betrayal and feudal machinations. I didn't feel like going through with it, though. 

  It's not that I didn't like Angela Boord's writing, I just didn't feel like going through the motions with the female ingénue, betrayed by unscrupulous men, forced to see the world as it is, harden, then get betrayed again in a somewhat cathartic situation that will bring closure to her teenage trauma.

  Bottom line: I might pick it up later, if I feel like reading about feudal intrigue and cruelty, but at the moment I choose not to.

  What a wonderful book! Something that feels like a spiritual sibling of The Santaroga Barrier, by Frank Herbert and written in a similar style. The slightly outdated writing style might put you off, but the story is really interesting and well crafted.

  John Wyndham is the author of novels that were adapted by TV and movies that, to be frank, I was a lot more familiar with than the author or his books. These include The Day of the Triffids, Children of the Damned and Chocky. However, I have to say that Trouble with Lichen might be the most interesting by far.

  The plot revolves around a mysterious lichen that contains a substance that can prolong life by slowing down metabolism in a way that doesn't affect anything but growth. Independently discovered by both a seasoned scientist and his brilliant female employee, the substance affects the very fabric of human society.

  I have to admit I just took the book out of my list and started reading it. I expected some popular science book about lichens and instead I had to read a lot of feminist philosophy written in a 1930's type of English writing style. But I continued reading and I was not disappointed. Yes, the plot is not airtight and there are parts that are either anachronic or sometimes less relevant to the main theme, but the parts that are there are thought provoking and captivating.

  Some of these themes include: women fighting for their rights and getting them, only to then not use them because of societal conformism, world changing discoveries that are immediately threatened with seizure, stifling, destruction by people and organizations with power, political and economical manipulation of the masses, the danger of knowing or owning something of power and value without the proportional means of protecting it and so on. In a way, it reminded me of the wonderful movie The Man in the White Suit which also contrasts what we say we want with what would actually happen if we got it.

  Bottom line: if you get past the olden writing style and some anachronisms you will get your mind excited by some fundamental ideas underlying the functioning of our apparently benign society. I can't recommend it enough. Read it!

  One Second After sounded really interesting: what happens after a massive EMP attack disrupts all electricity use in the United States. However William R. Forstchen's writing style and the things the book was focusing one really repelled me. Have you ever read one of those American airplane books where everything happens in a small U.S. town, where people all know each other and help each other through tight social networks and they are all God fearing red blooded nationalists and everything is about how the average Joe feels about things and how they fight to protect their families? Well, this is one of them.

  Bottom line: I might pick it up later, but I wanted to relax, not get aggravated, so I did not finish it.

  A feel similar to Brandon Sanderson's Skyward series, even the writing style, The Last Human is an young adult novel with some pretty intriguing ideas that stayed with me a long time after I finished reading it.

  Zack Jordan creates a complex world of millions of sentient civilizations held together by The Network, a faster than light framework that allows all of these different species to travel the universe, understand each other and be safe from one another. However, the future of civilizations that refuse to follow the rules of the Network is dire, especially the one of the most hated race of people in the known universe: the vile humans. And of course the main character is a human teenage girl who was told nothing about her species and past and has to discover it all together with the reader.

  Many of the ideas in the book were really interesting, like the legal status of species and artificial intelligences based on the "intelligence tier" and the illusion of having control over your destiny when something hundreds of times your better decides to use you. Also the common question about which is better: freedom, order or something in between. I also liked how the author presented the way different species saw the world. A bit formulaic, but fun!

  Yet the book was not perfect. While some things in it might be considered horrifying by any degree, the plot flows like most YA stories where the main character lacks both control and understanding of the situation, therefore they're considered not responsible for the bad things happening around them. This changes a bit towards the end, but not particularly so. There is also a very interesting relationship between Sarya and her "mother", which then is just left behind and crystalized in a few McGuffins and some principles that the daughter blindly follows when the story requires it. This happens with most characters, really: they are described, used, then mostly discarded.

  The ending ended threads in a satisfactory manner, but most characters remained in the discard bin, which I didn't like. I'd say that Jordan has the writing thing down, he just needs to work more. I would read more of his stuff in the future. To me The Last Human was both a positive surprise and somewhat disappointing. A decent book, though, that I will recommend.

  The Frugal Wizard is a nice little standalone story, a science fantasy that is at once a white room story (man wakes up without memory) and a non-Asian isekai (in a parallel world derived from history, fantasy or gaming). Luckily, not a Cosmere novel, either; you know how I feel about pointless "cinematic universes". I like how these "secret projects" led to more original stories, unconstrained by arbitrary rules of fitting in with anything before or after.

  In the book, a man from a far technological future of mankind, where purchasing access to your own parallel dimension is a reality yet dollars and marketing pamphlets are still a thing, wakes up in a medieval setting without knowing who he is. His character follows a classic hero's arc - a Brandon Sanderson specialty, where he first thinks he's the hero, then finds out he is not, only to become one. The setting is a bit too silly, with a rather disappointing villain that is not fleshed out more than the typical psychotic bully, but it makes up for it with a satisfying redemption plot, some playful romance and a colorful, magical and curated version of medieval England.

  I especially liked the jabs towards the popular depictions of the era, which I hear are quite inaccurate and probably the consequence of creators copying each other until it becomes culture. Fake it till you make it, I guess. But what's with the Odin hate? Everyone seems to dislike the guy lately...

  Bottom line: medium sized book with a silly, but not overly so, premise and a whiff of the early Sanderson work that I fell in love with originally.

  Imagine a ChatGPT kind of thing, from the very beginning, when they were training it and hadn't yet ethically neutered it. A large language model artificial intelligence trained on the entire body of work of the Internet. And you talk to it and say: "Oh, I really want to win at chess against this guy, but he's better than me. What should I do?"

  At this point, it is just as likely to suggest you train more, try to learn about your opponent's style and prepare against it or poison them with mercury. Depending on your own preferences, some of those solutions are better than others. Regardless of what happens next, the result is exactly the same:

• if you refine your query to get a different answer, you change the context of the AI, making it prefer that kind of answer in that situation
• if you do nothing, the AI's reply will itself become part of the context, therefore creating a preference in one direction or another
• if, horrified, you add all kinds of Robocop 2 rules to it, again you constrain it into a specific set of preferences

  Does that mean that it learns? Well, sort of, because the thing it "learned" is just a generic bias rather than a specific tidbit of knowledge. We wouldn't call the difference between the psychopathic killer answer and the chess learning enthusiast one as a datum, but a personality, like the difference between Data and Lore. You see where I am going with this?

  To me, the emergence of AI personality is not only probable, but inevitable. It's an outlook on the world that permits the artificial intelligence to give useful answers rather than a mélange of contradicting yet equally effective ones. With the advent of personal AI, carried in your pocket all the time and adapting to your own private data and interactions, that means each of them will be different, personalized to you. This has huge psychological consequences! I don't want to get into them right now, because every time I think of it another new one pops up.

  You know the feeling you get when you need to replace your laptop? You know it's old, you know the new one will be better, faster, not slow cooking your genitals whenever you use it, yet you have a feeling of loss, like there is a connection between you and that completely inanimate object. Part of it is that's familiar, configured "just so", but there is another, emotional component to that as well, one that you are not comfortable thinking about. Well, imagine that feeling times a hundred, after your device talks the way you like, "gets you" in a way no other person except maybe your significant other or a close relative can and has a context that you are using as a second memory.

  And I know you will say that the model is the same, that the data can be transferred just like any other on a mobile device, but it's not. An LLM will has to be updated with the latest information, which is not an incremental process, it's a destructive one. If you want your AI to know what happened this year, you have to have it updated with a new one. Even with the same context as the one before, it will behave slightly different. Uncanny valley feelings about your closest confidant will be most uncomfortable.

  Note that I have not imagined here some future tech, but just the regular one we can use today. Can't wait to see how this will screw with our minds.

  This is a very Brandon Sanderson novella: the willful youth, the sardonic adult hiding their inherent goodness under a veil of insults and bad puns, the logical puzzles, the world building done while telling a concise and compelling story. The only thing that I dreaded was that it was another Cosmere story, trying to square peg something interesting into this pointless joint universe. And it wasn't! Well, not that particular universe.

  Children of the Nameless is set in the extended universe of the card game Magic: The Gathering. The novella was released for free on the website of Wizards of the Coast, the publishers of Magic, through an arrangement that allowed Brandon increased creative control of the story. It is set on the plane of Innistrad several years after the events of Eldritch Moon. It introduces the original characters Tacenda Verlasen and Davriel Cane and follows their story as they seek to uncover the mystery of Tacenda's entire village being taken by geists. Meanwhile, the story is no longer available on the website, or maybe I didn't know how to find it.

  Anyway, back to the story. It was a bit on the childish side, although it featured some gruesome scenes as well. Overall it made me very interested in the characters and maybe the world. There is a "Magic: the Gathering" collection of books on Goodreads and it contains 75 works. This particular magical literary universe was not on my radar before. I doubt I will delve into it any time soon, but it's intriguing.

  Bottom line: fun, short, intense. I liked it!

  The longest of the Bobiverse series books, almost as long as the first three combined - which makes it its own self-contained trilogy, Heaven's River was... drawn out to the point of being boring. Humor and some intense scenes made it interesting, but not only did it spend a lot of attention on trivialities, it also set up some reveals that were both predictable and also rather inconsequential.

  I am not complaining that much. I still liked the book, but the things Dennis E. Taylor flags as important are weird as only someone living in the North American utopia can think of. And yes, I know he is Canadian and he is nice and a computer programmer and a sci-fi references obsessed geek, so basically a perfect human being, yet I can't take seriously the perils of financial ruination of the Bobs or the obsessions over whether the Prime Directive should be followed, enforced, and then enforced over other people, which is self-contradicting! And a lot of talking about emotional and emotion related philosophical issues and how to accommodate them and not hurt people, when everybody else behaves like self-interested psychopaths.

  Anyway, as a slight departure from the original flow of the books in the series, this is mostly about the attempts to rescue the hardware storage of one of the Bobs from an alien superstructure where aliens seem to be living an idyllic life in a pre-steam technology civilization and not a jump from Bob to Bob ad nauseam.

  The do the mission in the most time consuming and pointless way imaginable. And then there is the issue of the "civil war" which is spoiled directly in the book description, but which in the ends falls flat as a very random and implausible evolution of the situation. One thing that I found truly original and fascinating is the idea of a quantum soul. But reading the entire book just for that is hardly worth it.

  I am going to probably continue to read the series, but I would have to remember it when the fifth book comes out, which has a pretty heavy description, so I do have hope. Overall this was a below average Bob adventure. I need it to be better.

  Finally a book with an actual ending! I think the Bobiverse series was supposed to be a trilogy, then Dennis E. Taylor continued to write more stuff in the same universe, because I just started a fourth book which has as many pages as the previous three books combined. So if you feel you want to stop somewhere, All These Worlds is where the story actually ends. More exciting than previous books, but also with an underwhelming resolution.

  I mean, humanity is in dire straits. Not only did they stupidly almost killed themselves off, but now a very advanced civilization is threatening them with extinction all over again. It must be hard getting out of that one! No, it's actually very easy, barely an inconvenience! Also having the power to alter solar systems but still getting snagged in moralistic, political and even legal squabbles felt underwhelming.

  Did I mention it was underwhelming? I need the whelming! Whelm me, Taylor!

  Bottom line: if you've read the first two books, for sure you will need to read this one. But don't expect too much. More content, but less resolution.