Joseph Leskey

I really consider this book to be nearly perfect. This is a subjective perfection, naturally; objective perfection is notoriously difficult to attain. The elements of the story are all in the most remarkable balance. To imagine a better set of characters than Carthage and Huxley would be a truly arduous task. Such an incredible picture is given the valued reader (e.g., me) of their personalities, troubles, and triumphs, that I scarcely could credit it. The other characters are brilliantly developed, but I won't elucidate upon this subject as it is very difficult to do with database schemas on my mind. Now, returning to the topic sentence of the previous paragraph (which just so happens to be the first sentence in that paragraph), I said there's a balance. This statement is very true, as is the descriptive adjective that describes that balance, for following the example of the characters, the plot is of a quality excellence. The thing is amazing. It has a feel of purpose and meaning and all the rest of it. Further, it’s a really great plot in its own right. Think possible sabotage, a competition, developing trust, and bankruptcy. All the good stuff (and there’s actually quite a bit more to it than that). In essence, then, the author manages to pull off both a phenomenally strong cast and a phenomenally strong plot without those heartily disagreeable contrivances people talk about these days. But the book continues to have balance. A marvelous setting: mirrors, explosions, rich cultures, steampunk-style technology, autonomous robotic sorts known as electricals (yes, please, more and thank you), floating isles, trains (possibly not completely like the ones you're used to) – you get the picture (or don't get the picture, but that would be no fault of mine). However, the author somehow manages to get all this and quite a bit more across without the slightest hint of info-dumping or irrelevancy. You may have gotten the idea that the author's pretty good at this authoring stuff. If you haven't, kindly don't inform me because I don't want to have to move to Norway and sit down next to the Skiensvassdraget for thirty minutes to reflect on the vagueness and impotence of my prose. If you have, that's great, because that idea is completely correct, though a significant understatement. In my native language a phrase that suits this situation very nicely is "This is some seriously good writing." Furthermore, it is not only good – it is also what I believe can be termed "tight," also known as possessing top-hole cohesiveness and flow. Finally, this thing is fun. This thing is really, really, really fun. Fun with a capital F. Fun with a capital F and a trademark symbol. Fun with both of these and half a dozen and two u’s. The writing’s enjoyable, the character’s are enjoyable, the plot is enjoyable (and pretty enthralling, for that matter). In addition, there are some bits of the best sort of humor you could wish for. Oh, yeah, and great themes too, but I don't generally analyze themes, preferring to leave them where they belong, intrinsically linked with the story.

This is an absolutely phenomenal narrative. And, to think, I don't know that I have ever said to myself, "Fellow, I can see your problem – you've never read a Moby Dick retelling set in space." The characters, the setting, and the plot come together to form an absolutely remarkable experience, amplified by an extreme fluidity of writing that generates a rather pressing desire bordering on an intellectual requisite for a sequel of literally any shape or size.