Review: A Quantum Love Story by Mike Chen

Disclaimer: I received this book in exchange for a review from Netgalley. All opinions are my own.

Ah, time loops. An old sci-fi trope, but a good one – you relive the same short period of time, over and over, until you can find some way out of it. Such a loop forms the backdrop of “A Quantum Love Story” by Mike Chen, a clever and warmhearted little sci-fi tale with an oddball romance blooming at its heart, and a message about the importance of really living life instead of just existing.

Tennis-player-turned-scientist Mariana Pineda is grieving over the loss of her best friend/stepsister, and decides to quit her job at a facility with a revolutionary particle accelerator. But on that fateful day, she has a weird encounter with a technician named Carter Cho, gets hit with a beam of green energy… and awakens on the previous Monday morning. She’s now in a four-day time loop alongside Carter, who has already relived the same few days several times.

The two of them put their heads together to try to figure out a way to break the loop and return to regular life… even though Mariana discovers that there’s a kind of freedom and joy to spending time with Carter, free from worries about money, personal problems or cholesterol. The two of them begin to fall in love as Carter teaches Mariana about how to really live her life… but when his memory starts to disappear, their only chance for happiness is to break free once and for all.

There’s a kind of warm, quirky, friendly, comfortable quality to “Quantum Love Story,” despite the well-worn sci-fi premise. Mike Chen takes his time not only handling the scientific aspects of the story (Mariana provides a lot of the technobabble and theoretical substance) and the mystery of how the time loop occurred, but the slowly blooming relationship between the two lead characters as they get to know each other.

And the titular quantum love story is pretty charming, although not overwhelming or mushy – honestly, the story would work just as well if the characters were just friends. Chen depicts the relationship between Carter and Mariana as one that enriches both their lives, especially since Mariana has lived a rather sterile, staid, lonely life. Her blossoming connection with Carter is about teaching her how to live – mostly through his lusciously sensual love of food, which he has a natural gift for.

Since the story revolves around the lead characters almost exclusively, Chen has to make them very likable, or the titular love story would be torture. And fortunately, they ARE likable. Mariana starts as a tightly-closed bud of a person who has encountered happy free-spirited people, but never been one herself; it’s only with Carter’s influence and the freedom afforded by the loop that she starts to unfold. Carter is her opposite – a man who, despite the disappointment of his parents, seizes every opportunity to be happy and enjoy life. And food. So much food. Food food food.

“A Quantum Love Story” is a charming intersection between a light romance and a sci-fi mystery – a story about not only breaking out of time loops, but out of the ruts where people live their lives. Thoroughly enjoyable in every dimension.

Review: Sky’s End by Marc J. Gregson

Note: I received a free copy from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

The Skylands make for some interesting world-building – vast floating islands, vast metal-plated sky-dragons, and seeming nothing below. 

But the biggest danger might come from your fellow trainees and/or friends in “Sky’s End,” the first book in a new sci-fi series by Marc J. Gregson. It’s reminiscent of books like Pierce Brown’s “Red Rising,” where tragedy hardens and propels a young man into seeking power, even as Gregson’s spare but evocative prose propels the story into a more epic, suspenseful territory.

After his uncle murdered his father, Conrad and his mother were reduced to Lows, living in grinding poverty while he tried to scheme a way to get his sister back from their uncle. But when his mother is killed in a gorgontaun attack, he decides to do the unthinkable: he will become his uncle’s heir by entering the Selection of the Twelve Trades, attain greatness in the Meritocracy, and be able to get in contact with his sister.

Turns out, Conrad is Selected for the most dangerous Trade: Hunter. Hunters dedicate themselves to hunting and killing gorgontauns, then harvesting what they need from the corpses. To make things even worse, his large, violent arch-nemesis Pound has also been Selected, and he’s just as hungry to Rise as Conrad is.

The first big challenge of these Hunters-in-training is the Gauntlet, a rigorous gorgontaun-hunting expedition that puts the noobs in command of their own vessels. Conrad quickly finds himself the lowest on the totem pole, serving first Pound and then the vicious, manipulative Sebastian. But he quickly discovers that Rising may not be the biggest problem he’ll face, as a new threat looms over the Gauntlet – one from a place he never dreamed existed.

“Sky’s End” uncoils its world-building as the story unfolds – at first we’re just introduced to floating islands and a society based rigidly on one’s ruthless ability to “rise” at all costs. But as the story unfolds, Gregson scatters in elements that raise questions about how this world came to be, such as the matter of how the islands float and whether the gorgontauns and other metal-plated predators are a natural part of the ecosystem.

All this is woven through a well-paced, brisk story with leanly-muscled writing reminiscent of Pierce Brown for a younger audience. Gregson also juggles various subplots and shifting character relationships, with people becoming hostile or friendly based on circumstances. At the same time, he spatters it with some solid action scenes, usually involving gorgontaun attacks on a wooden airship, and weaves in a brewing conspiracy that threatens the Skylands.

Conrad is a pretty complex hero as well. After his mother’s death, he’s a hardened, coldly-determined lone wolf who sees everyone else as obstacles to his rise to the top, but some of his fellow trainees and choice criticisms by one of the older Hunters forces him to see that nobody can rise if they isolate themselves. He doesn’t instantly become a “friendship is magic” type, but he does begin balancing human friendships with necessary political alliances and plots. And the supporting cast is pretty well-developed, including the brutish Pound, the mysterious Bryce, quiet mastermind Sebastian, and so on.

“Sky’s End” is a clever, complex skypunk novel that weaves solid world-building into a complex, well-written thriller – and it leaves plenty of space for further adventures. Definitely a good read.

Review: The Meg 2: The Trench

Do you want to become stupider? You probably don’t, but I have an excellent method for lowering your IQ, should you want to do so. It would involve watching “The Meg 2: The Trench.”

Obviously the original film wasn’t exactly cerebral cinema meant to make you think about… anything. It was a fun dumb movie about a giant prehistoric shark causing mass mayhem and carnage. But “The Meg 2: The Trench” is almost criminally stupid – stupid enough to shatter your suspension of disbelief – and it lacks any kind of self-awareness about how stupid it truly is.

The story begins with a prehistoric glimpse of various animals eating each other, climaxing with a megalodon swimming into perhaps ten feet of water to gobble down a T-rex, and then popping right back into the ocean. That was pretty much when I knew the movie was going to be bad.

Fast forward to present day: Jonas Taylor (Jason Statham) has inexplicably become a James-Bondian eco-vigilante who singlehandedly beats up dozens of criminal waste-dumpers. How and why he started doing this when he was a rescue diver in the first movie, I don’t know. His love interest from the previous movie has also died – presumably Li Bingbing didn’t want to reappear – which means Jonas is raising his precociously annoying maybe-stepdaughter Meiying (Sophia Cai), and hanging out with his maybe-brother-in-law Jiuming Zhang (Wu Jing). Oh, and Jiuming has a captive megalodon that he’s clicker-training. Not kidding.

But a dive into the trench goes horribly awry, leaving Jonas, Jiuming, Meiying and a handful of characters we don’t really care about at the bottom of the sea. But escaping back to the surface won’t keep them safe for long – not only do they have the minions of a poorly-written evil billionaire attacking them, they also have been followed to the surface by more megalodons, a giant octopus, and these air-breathing lizard creatures that apparently have not evolved at all in all those millions of years. And of course, all of them want to eat the partying tourists who happen to be nearby.

Hollywood sequels usually follow a certain pattern – they have to be bigger, more bombastic… and much dumber than the first. “The Meg 2: The Trench” follows this pattern from the very beginning, and never manages to even briefly transcend its witlessness – it’s crammed with explosions, bloodless violence, suspension-of-disbelief-snapping action stunts (Jonas is able to prop the body weight of a Meg over his head with a piece of metal) and random bursts of Marvel-style comedy.

Yes, the first “Meg” movie was a big dumb action movie too, but it had a certain measure of restraint. Here, there’s no restraint – there are so many movie monsters that you can’t keep track of them all, and some of them – like the giant octopus – don’t actually add anything to the story except more bloated CGI ‘splosions. Why are the lizards living at the bottom of the ocean, and why have they not evolved into sea creatures in millions of years? Because the writers are huffing paint.

It’s also one of those movies where the characters are all idiots whenever they’re not required by the plot to be smart. The villain’s dastardly plans would be easily uncovered by a nine-year-old by a magnifying glass, but she literally exists just long enough to get the creatures to occupied territory, at which point she’s dragged off and eaten. Meiying is a mass of idiotic decisions from beginning to end. And while Jiuming is depicted as smart and knowledgeable, he is shown to have zero common sense. Think floating around in a meg enclosure with nothing but a clicker and optimistic thoughts to protect himself.

Jason Statham isn’t a great actor at the best of times, but he is clearly operating on autopilot here, looking vaguely uncomfortable in almost every scene. Wu Jing gives a pretty decent performance as Jiuming, and he’s obviously trying much harder than Statham. Most of the other actors have nothing to really chew on, like Sienna Guillory’s evil billionaire or Sergio Peris-Mencheta’s mercenary Montes, who is fueled by vengeance against Jonas for some past conflict that we didn’t see. Melissanthi Mahut has the closest thing to a fleshed-out supporting character, and has some good moments where her characters reacts to loss and/or blackmail.

“The Meg 2: The Trench” seems to be aiming to be brainless fun, but it shoots so far beyond “brainless” that it ends up not being fun at all – just insultingly witless, chaotic and full of blithering idiots.

Review: Jungle Juice Volume 1

Disclaimer: I received an advance copy of this book from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.

Suchan Jang seems to have the perfect college life – he’s popular, lots of friends, straight-A grades, and girls adore him. The only problem is that he’s a human-insect hybrid.

And that’s the premise behind “Jungle Juice Volume 1,” the opening salvo of Hyeong Eun’s Webtoon manhwa about people with insect body parts, complete with a kind of insectoid Hogwarts. Fortunately, JUDER’s artwork won’t trigger discomfort in people who hate bugs – like me – and the first volume is somewhat reminiscent of a slightly offbeat shonen manga. Expect lots of bug-people fighting, some bloody deaths, and plenty of scholastic mayhem… sometimes involving chainsaws.

Suchan Jang was a perfectly ordinary boy… until he used a can of Jungle Juice (a pesticide spray) to kill a dragonfly. The next morning, he awoke with a full-sized pair of dragonfly wings on his back. Despite his popularity, he has to keep his abnormality a secret from other people, and he’s pretty successful… until a mantis-man attacks during a movie date, and Suchan has to publicly expose his wings in order to save his girlfriend.

Needless to say, everyone now treats him as a freak, including the girl he likes. Devastated, he tries to kill himself – only for Huijin Park, a girl with antennae, to usher him to a place where he can fit in. NEST is a college town for people who are also insect-human hybrids, and Suchan’s only chance of finally returning to normal is if he graduates at the top of his class. It sounds simple enough, right? As if life at a fictional school for strange/special people has ever been that easy.

The chaos starts on registration day, when Suchan immediately discovers that signing up for classes is very competitive… and physical. At this college, survival of the fittest is key. Even if he can manage to get into the college, his scholastic path won’t be the easy one he hoped for – especially since the mantis-man is roaming on campus, along with an insectile femme fatale who has nothing but bad intentions towards NEST and everyone in it.

“Jungle Juice Volume 1” is a pretty solid opening to a shonen-style manhwa series – we have the relatable male lead who finds himself with special abilities (including a signature power he only learns about later), and ends up at a special, action-packed school with other people with similar abilities. Except since various characters have different insect hybridizations, they have different abilities – stingers, immense jumping, explosions, and Suchan’s agility, flight and ability to foresee attacks.

So while the school-for-special-people is in full effect here, Hyeong Eun keeps things fresh by introducing different insect-people and abilities, including one whose abilities are still a mystery. But the story is set in. a dark, brutal environment, and there’s no telling who might get eaten by a cannibalistic mantis-man or chased by Jun Ju, a giant muscular grandpa with a chainsaw. The author doesn’t shy away from the survival-of-the-fittest aspects of life at NEST, but at the same time, doesn’t depict it as a bad thing to be compassionate towards others.

Suchan is a little bland, but fairly relatable – his misery over being socially ostracized has left him desperate to become fully human again, but he also is beginning to learn about the benefits of being a dragonfly man. Huijin Park is a kind, stalwart girl who seems earmarked to be the love interest, and Hyeseong Cha is introduced as a kind of friendly rival character to Suchan – rough around the edges and blunt to a fault, but an overall goodhearted guy, it seems.

JUDER’s artwork is a little rough around the edges, but very striking – it glows with light and vivid colors without becoming too overwhelming, or losing the simplicity of the manhwa artwork style. Furthermore, their artwork seem to be improving as the first volume goes on. The biggest problem is that the action scenes are often hard to follow; it’s not very easy to see exactly what is going on if people are really beating the stuffin’ out of each other.

“Jungle Juice Volume 1” is a solid first volume to a promising series – and with a powerful antagonist and a cliffhanger, there’s sure to be more intriguing developments to come. Even if you hate bugs, this is worth a read.

Review: Tress of the Emerald Sea

While the rest of us were gaining weight and getting depressed during the Covid-19 lockdown, Brandon Sanderson was doing what he does best: churning out books.

And the first of these four surprise books is “Tress of the Emerald Sea,” a Cosmere novel that mingles quirky fairy-tale quests for a true love with the rough’n’tumble life of a pirate. Sanderson gives us a extraordinarily ordinary heroine who stumbles and triumphs on her quest, along with a talking rat, seas of colorful spores, and the occasional zombie doctor.

Tress is a seemingly ordinary girl on a small rocky island in the green spore sea – she collects teacups, washes windows, loves her family, and regularly meets with the local duke’s son, Charlie. When the duke realizes that his son is in love with a window-washing girl, he whisks the boy off the island to marry a princess. When the duke returns, he’s got a brand new heir with a new wife – and Charlie is nowhere to be seen. He’s been sent off to the realm of the Sorceress in the Midnight Sea, which means he’s effectively doomed.

But Tress is determined to get him back, so she smuggles herself off the island… and finds herself the prisoner first of smugglers, and then a crew of pirates ruled by the bloodthirsty Captain Crow. She also acquires a talking rat friend, Huck, who becomes her best friend and ally, especially since he knows some things about the Sorceress. Though the situation isn’t ideal, Tress believes the ship can get her to the Sorceress, and manages to work her way into the crew.

But her plans are complicated when she becomes friends with several of the pirates, and learns some disturbing facts about Crow. How can a simple window-washer girl defeat a pirate captain, sail the deadly Crimson and Midnight Seas, escape a dragon and defeat the terrible Sorceress – all while learning the true nature of spores and aethers?

“Tress of the Emerald Sea” is one parts fairy tale, one part pirate adventure, and one part Cosmere story (especially since the narrator is none other than Hoid, who plays a pivotal role). And the world Sanderson conjures is a fascinating one, where twelve moons produce a steady downfall of spores that form whole seas that wooden ships can sail on. But, much like a mogwai, never expose them to water, or very bad things happen.

Since Hoid is the one telling the tale, the entire story unfolds in a quirky, laid-back narrative style, reminiscent of William Goldman or a more modern fairy tale. It’s arch, snarky and very omniscient third-person (Tress’s hair is once described as an “eldritch horror” bent on “disintegrating reality, seeking the lives of virgins, and demanding a sacrifice of a hundred bottles of expensive conditioner”). The only major flaw, ironically, is that self-same snarky tone – it sometimes becomes kind of overbearing, especially during the more serious parts of the story, and sometimes it feels like Hoid is hijacking the story.

It also has Sanderson’s exceptional world-building, especially in the idea of the spores, which will immediately erupt into SOMETHING – air, vines, crystals – upon contact with water. And while Sanderson weaves in elements of the Cosmere, creating a more science-fiction-y world, there are elements of magic included in it, such as Huck. No, I will not explain what is up with the rat, only that not all is as it seems… as you’d expect with a talking rat.

Tress herself is an exceptional heroine – smart, resourceful, determined, good-hearted and practical, with a nimble brain and a love for collectible cups. Her relationship with Huck is very wholesome and sometimes heartwrenching, as are her friendships with other members of the crew – a seemingly-zombie doctor, an assistant cannonmaster who never successfully hits anything, a cheery deaf man with a writing board, and the deadly, nihilistic Captain Crow. There are also Dougs, but we don’t care about them.

“Tress of the Emerald Sea” is a charming, well-paced story that is a little too suffused in Hoid for its own good. For those seeking a rollicking pirate adventure with some wild fantastical twists, this is a must-read.

Review: The Reckoners Series

The red star Calamity came, and suddenly a small number of people on Earth had superpowers. But they weren’t superheroes – they were tyrants.

Let’s face it: realistically, that is what would happen if people suddenly got superpowers. But the Reckoners trilogy is less about the Epics that now rule the world, and more about the plucky, ingenious little guys who want to take them down. And Brandon Sanderson’s boundless imagination and clever writing turn this trilogy from a straightforward twist-on-superheroes into a clever, suspenseful tale of superpowered friends and foes.

Ten years, Calamity came — and so did Steelheart, who conquered Chicago and made it his personal kingdom, Newcago. Steelheart is invincible, super-strong, can control the elements, and his rage turns everything inorganic to steel. But ten years ago, someone made him bleed, so he killed everyone who had seen it. The only survivor is David, who devotes his life to studying the weaknesses of the Epics.

Ten years later, he bumbles into a sting by the Reckoners, a vigilante group trying to kill the Epics, and they reluctantly let him join when they find out he’s a walking encyclopedia of Epic information. With his info, they can take down Steelheart’s lieutenants. But the group is torn by fears about what killing Steelheart might cause — and they don’t have a prayer of killing him until they figure out his weakness. What’s more, one of the Epics may be closer than they think.

“Fireheart” opens with war being declared on the Reckoners by the powerful water-bending Epic Regalia, who rules the half-sunken city of Babilar (formerly Manhattan). But even worse, Regalia has summoned Obliteration, a cruel fanatic who destroys cities with solar energy, and is preparing to destroy everything in Babilar. As the Reckoners struggle to figure out her plan, David finds that the woman he loved is also in this city — and that the lines between friends and enemies are about to blur.

“Calamity” is appropriately named – the Reckoners are all but wiped-out, and their benevolent leader has been corrupted by his own power. So they follow him to Ildithia (formerly Atlanta), a moving city of crystalline salt, and manage to drag the bratty, power-stealing Larcener into their fight against Limelight. But their attempts to stop Limelight lead to the discovery of a devastating plan that could give him the ultimate Epic power — and a confrontation with the greatest Epic alive.

In a world where dictators and governments perpetrate unspeakable horrors, most people with incredible unstoppable superpowers would quickly be corrupted, or end up wussing out and serving someone who is corrupt. Yet in the Reckoners trilogy, Sanderson reminds us that “You can’t be so frightened of what might happen that you are unwilling to act” against tyranny, and that people can ultimately choose to be good.

And he does this by showing us a world transformed by Epic ego — some cities are destroyed, some are gloomy masses of grey steel… and some are colorful, ethereal places of glowing paint and nightly parties, or creeping salt sculptures. Similarly, he weaves in some multiverse stuff (there are parallel dimensions where things went slightly differently) and the clever idea of a weakness for every superpower.

And part of what makes the Reckoners series so engaging is that Sanderson knows how to mingle the grim, apocalyptic setting with a quirky sense of humor, whether it’s the bubbly Mizzy or David’s endless weird similes (“You’re like a potato! In a minefield”). His robust, fast-moving prose keeps the story moving along briskly even when nothing much is happening, and he weaves in some genuinely shocking twists (the entire third book is basically the fallout from the double-twist ending of the second) and some truly explosive action sequences.

David is an excellent hero, in the same mold as the “extraordinarily ordinary” heroes that Sanderson writes so well — self-deprecating, eager, a little dorky, with some haunting scars from the loss of his father. He’s a good counterpoint to Megan, a darker and more sarcastic woman who finds herself being pulled back by David’s purity and uncomplicated faith.. And Phaedrus rounds out the cast as a man riddled with fear over his own powers, struggling to resist the darkness that comes when he uses them.

The Reckoners trilogy is a thoroughly solid twist on superhero stories, made even more enjoyable through Sanderson’s clever writing and boundless imagination. Here, the superheroes are the little guys — and their power is that they will never give in, despite their doubts.

Fifty Authors I Will Not Read

I think most people have authors they won’t read, even if other people love their books. I have quite a few. Some are authors I tried in the past and have no desire to revisit, and some are authors I refuse to read on principle.

So for instance…

  1. Philip Pullman
  2. Mercedes Lackey
  3. John Norman
  4. James Joyce
  5. E.L. James
  6. Dan Brown
  7. Victor Hugo
  8. William Faulkner
  9. Ayn Rand
  10. Bernard Cornwell
  11. Richard Dawkins
  12. Tim LaHaye/Jerry Jenkins
  13. Jean M. Auel
  14. Margaret Mitchell
  15. Nicholas Sparks
  16. Marion Zimmer Bradley
  17. Candace Bushnell
  18. Friedrich Nietzsche
  19. Blanka Lipinska
  20. Peter David
  21. Clive Barker
  22. Diana Gabaldon
  23. Anne McCaffrey
  24. Junji Ito
  25. Alice Oseman
  26. Warren Ellis
  27. Barbara Kingsolver
  28. R.F. Kuang
  29. Ernest Cline
  30. Chuck Palahniuk
  31. John Steinbeck
  32. Ernest Hemingway
  33. Anne Bishop
  34. Dan Simmons
  35. Isabel Allende
  36. Scarlett St. Clair
  37. Herman Melville
  38. Michael Moorcock
  39. J. D. Robb
  40. Chuck Wendig
  41. Joe Haldeman
  42. Glen Cook
  43. Franz Kafka
  44. Brian Herbert
  45. Jodi Picoult
  46. R. A. Salvatore
  47. Kevin J. Anderson
  48. James Patterson
  49. John Updike
  50. John Ringo

I think I’ve got a pretty diverse listing of books I refuse to read – science fiction, fantasy, classic fiction, modern fiction, mystery, romance, comics, etc. The one thing they have in common is that I have zero desire to read them, even ironically or to explore/review how bad they are (which is why L. Ron Hubbard is conspicuously absent from the list, even though he wrote the worst book I have ever seen in my life – and I have seen some crappy books).

There are also pretty diverse reasons why I refuse to read these books. A lot of these authors bore or annoy me, for instance. Kevin J. Anderson, for instance, is like eating a diet of only white bread to me – it’s boring, it’s unmemorable, and I immediately start craving something with flavor and meatiness. Another is Herman Melville, whose magnum opus is about six thousand pages of whaling minutiae. Or James Joyce, because… James Joyce. Or R. A. Salvatore, who has been writing basically the same pap for decades.

Another large category is authors who are bigots. Typically, bigots against me and people like me. I don’t try to force anyone to boycott artists who disagree with them, like many do. But I reserve the right to criticize, to call out and to make it clear that these people are bigots. For instance, Philip Pullman, who wrote an entire fantasy trilogy about how much he hates Christianity. He’s not getting my money, because he’s a bigot filled with hate, and anyone who claims to be against hate better also be against him.

There’s a lot of bigots on that list. Some very big names. Nobody is too famous to call out.

A much smaller category would be ones that I have political or religious disagreement with. I am willing to listen to people of various political or religious persuasions, although I am obviously not going to entertain and agree with all viewpoints. Only idiots do that. But someone like Ayn Rand simply doesn’t make any sense in the real world, and promotes a hideous way of thinking mixed with childish self-worship, which we already have too much of in the world. And guys like John Ringo and John Norman are just… blech. Their attitudes towards women are hideous.

I also don’t think that authors should necessarily be expected to be any better than any other person; having skeletons in their closet, addictions or bad stuff in their past is not a reason to avoid someone’s work. However, I am not going to read books by Marion Zimmer Bradley – not just because she was a pedophile, but because her work is so suffused in her spiritual corruption that it is literally painful for me to read, and it was painful long before I learned what she was.

This is kind of tied into the bigot and political/religious thing, but some of these authors are simply awful people, and it’s unpleasant to put your mind in their playground.

The smallest listing of all – only two people, actually – is people I don’t want to read because they do their job too well. That is the only reason Junji Ito is on it, so… if you’re a fan of his, you can unclench. Being listed on here is actually a compliment.

I’ll probably come up with more authors I refuse to read in the future, but for now, fifty is plenty.

Review: A Wrinkle In Time by Madeleine L’Engle

When a strange old lady turns up at your house and tells you random facts about five-dimensional space, you should probably call the police.

Fortunately, that does not happen in “A Wrinkle In Time,” where reality can twist and bend, and strange worlds are just a tesseract away. Madeleine L’Engle’s classic sci-fantasy is many things — a coming-of-age tale, a rescue quest, a clash between good and evil — spun with rich, luminous prose and eerie alien worlds.

On a stormy night, the strange Mrs. Whatsit takes shelter in the Murray household, and informs Mrs. Murray that “there is such a thing as a tesseract.” Teenage Meg Murray suspects that that the tesseract has something to do with her father’s mysterious disappearance. So she, her little brother Charles Wallace and her classmate Calvin go off to get more answers from Mrs. Whatsit and her pals, Mrs. Who and Mrs. Which.

The three old woman soon whisk the kids off on a journey through time and space, to worlds and creatures that are utterly alien to them. But it turns out that Mr. Murray has not merely become lost on an alien world — he has been ensnared by an evil intelligence that threatens them all. To save her family — not to mention the entire universe — Meg will have to face the most horrifying threat of all.

“A Wrinkle in Time” is a book that defies easy classification — it isn’t typical fantasy or sci-fi, it’s a CHILDREN’S novel that integrates physics and philosophy into the story, and it’s rife with religious symbolism. L’Engle also had a truly sublime writing style — she wrote in a rich, almost sensual style with lots of little details that make you feel like you are actually THERE.

And L’Engle had the rare talent for making you feel like the universe is a vast, strange place filled with wonders and terrors, which are physically bizarre but spiritually familiar to us. This is a story where you can be instantly swept from our planet to a dark world filled with four-armed eyeless yetis, or a grey planet of perfect order, and somehow it feels wholly real.

And while the characters sound like stereotypes — the weird old ladies, the plain girl, the child genius, the popular boy — they really aren’t. Meg seems kind of whiny and wangsty at first, but once the kids get swept up in their quest she gets to show her inner strength at last. Charles Wallace doesn’t bug me as most child geniuses do, and Calvin serves as the “normal” one who serves as a source of strength. And the Mrs. W’s are absolutely delightful — eccentric, kindly and utterly mysterious.

“A Wrinkle in Time” is one of those rare books that can change the way you see the universe — and it’s a friggin’ good read too. A richly imagined, exquisitely written story.

Recommendation: Decker Shado

Right now this particular reviewer is getting his butt kicked by the Youtube algorithm, probably because he puts out videos devoted to science fiction, Asian cinema, cult movies and horror rather than… well, I don’t know what does well in the Youtube algorithm, because I don’t watch it.

And of course, Godzilla movies. He’s fun, dramatic and has luscious hair, and seems like a very nice person. So please support him in whatever way you can!

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCsxn3qKFpbnD-8f1d9F5ipA

“The Eternals” should have been a TV show (not much in the way of spoilers)

I kind of went off the Marvel Cinematic Universe after Avengers: Endgame, primarily because it bid farewell to most of the original Avengers who made the brand what it was, while ushering in an era of much, much lesser superheroes. It also was when Marvel started spewing out Disney+ TV shows like a geyser, and so far all of them have had serious issues of varying degrees.

But there is one Marvel show that should have been a TV show, and that’s The Eternals.

I admit that I am only about halfway through this Chloe Zhao superhero movie, but I sincerely doubt that it’s going to turn around and suddenly blow me away in the second half. It is, to put it simply, plodding. It just trudges along rather than sweeping the audience in its wake, never making you excited about anything that happens. Even when something shocking or cataclysmic occurs… you don’t feel it.

In the first half of the movie, there is a horrifying revelation about the protagonists, their natures, their mission, their very existence and everything they believed about themselves… and their general attitude towards this is, “Aww, that sucks a little.” It is so anticlimactic, and it just made me even more indifferent to most of these characters, most of whom are generic (Thena, Sersi), bland (Ikaris) or annoying (Sprite, Druig).

Remember when Captain America discovered that HYDRA had been infesting SHIELD for the past seventy years, and had corrupted it completely from within? That was a shocking moment, and it held the weight of its import. But I don’t feel that with The Eternals.

I should care. It doesn’t make me care.

Part of the problem is just that Chloe Zhao’s direction is very uninspired, and the script is extremely meh. It’s just boring. But even if there was some pep and zing in this movie, it would still have some serious issues that need to be addressed… and most of those could have been handled by making it a TV series rather than a movie. Ten, maybe twelve episodes could have told the same story, but with more meat on its bones.

Part of the problem is that the main cast is too large. Look at the Guardians of the Galaxy – they have five members of their main cast, and a small number of supporting characters bouncing off them. Each of the Guardians has a distinct personality that complements or conflicts with every other member, and the cast is small enough that nobody gets lost in the shuffle. This is not the case with The Eternals – there are too many Eternals in the main cast, and thus there isn’t time enough to explore any of them except maybe Sersi. Most of them are extremely underdeveloped, and I just ended up thinking of them as “the Superman clone” or “the guy who looks like Credence Barebone” or “the little annoying one.” The only character traits that really set them apart were that some of them were very bitter and pissy.

This problem would probably be lessened in a TV format, where we could have episodes focusing more on the many different characters and what sets them apart from each other, as well as their feelings about their mission, their history, and the events of the story unfolding in the present. Maybe they could give Ikaris a personality.

The other problem is simple: the scope of the story is too big for a movie with this many characters. The Eternals have been on earth for seven thousand years, and supposedly have been defending and assisting humanity for most of that time. We get some flashbacks to their time in the past every now and then, but again, it feels pretty underdeveloped, and it doesn’t really give the feeling of those seven thousand years. We need more to really grasp it.

A TV show? You could introduce multiple glimpses of the past, all across the world, and you could work your way through those seven thousand years incrementally, all the way to the present, rather than hopping straight from 5,000 BC to the 1600s, with a ten-second wedding detour.

I admit I have not finished the movie yet, but the handling of it so far has not given me confidence that Chloe Zhao is suddenly going to give me a wild, exciting experience. It’s been dull and plodding, and all signs point to it continuing to be dull and plodding.