I’ve been wanting to read John Scalzi for a while now, ever
since I started closely associating him with Wil Wheaton (the Internet is a nutty place, you guys). But also, you know, he’s written a bunch of sci-fi novels and won the
Hugo Award, in addition to working as creative consultant for Stargate: Universe. So this guy knows
sci fi, is all I’m saying.
Redshirts, Scalzi’s
most recent book, focuses on Ensign Andrew Dahl, newly assigned to the Xenobiology
lab on the Universal Union Capital Ship Intrepid.
After just a short time on the Intrepid,
it becomes apparent that working on this ship is . . . different. Every
away mission to explore a new planet or answer a distress call or carry out any
other routine task ends badly—as in, someone being eaten by a Borgovian Land
Worm or mulched by a fleet of rogue robots. The thing is, the fatalities are limited
to low-ranking crew members. The high-ranking officers, while often dramatically
injured/attacked by an alien virus/infected with a painful STD, inexplicably survive
these missions every time. Dahl and his friends set out to discover what's behind this curious pattern and how to avoid becoming the next away-mission casualties.
This book is best
described as an extended and supremely terrible episode of Star
Trek, which is 100% intentional on Scalzi’s part (according to me, who
apparently feels entitled to speak for Scalzi). It has all the fantastical sci-fi
elements and cheezy dialogue that characterize practically every episode of Star Trek ever. And page 14 made me honk . . . like a laughing goose.
But despite all these things . . . I just didn’t love it. I
realized this at about page 150, when I put the book down in what is
essentially the THICK of the plot and didn’t really care to pick it back up
again.
But I did pick it back up. I sufficiently enjoyed
the last 50 pages. And there’s a whole section toward the end that employs
second person effectively, for which props MUST be given.
 |
| The highest of fives for you, sir. |
So I super-enjoyed the beginning, was somewhat bored with
the middle, and regular-enjoyed the end. And this review will be of absolutely
no help to you in deciding whether or not to read the book.
A brief note on the editing: I really tried not to mention this,
because it seems kind of petty. But, Scalzi, your copy editor has done you
a grave disservice. There are typos APLENTY throughout the book, and at one
point there’s even a mix-up with the names of two major characters. This is stuff that really should
have been caught by the person who was PAID TO DO SO. I’m sure you’re very
sweet, Scalzi, since you thanked your copy editor by name in the “Acknowledgments”
section. So I’ll take it upon myself to say what needs to be said here. Scalzi’s
copy editor (whose name I know but will refrain from putting on the Internet in
connection with the following words), Hab
SoSlI' Quch. (That means “Your mother has a smooth forehead,” and I assure
you it is QUITE an insult if you happen to be a Klingon.)
 |
| I'm sure she's a very nice person, this copy editor. |
