Monday Reviews, 7/16/2012

Bob Tarte - Kitty Cornered


People who read non-fiction books about other people living with animals have, I think, a right to expect certain things. They should expect some humorous stories about the animals in question acting in odd ways. They should expect some humorous stories about the people in question acting in odd ways. They should expect at least one trip to a veterinarian. They should expect at least one point at which it is not clear if (one of) the animal(s) in question will survive to the end of the book, which should be resolved quickly. If that point comes early in the book, probably the animal will live - if later, probably not. Unless the book is about struggling to nurse an injured animal back to health, in which case the resolution will take some time, and could still easily go either way. Some lesson should be drawn about human nature, based on the interaction between the animal(s) and the human. If that is what you are expecting from Bob Tarte's book, you will almost certainly be satisfied. The humor is a little dry, and it took me a bit to tune into it, but otherwise, Tarte hits all of the high points in the check list.

I should also say that Tarte's story feels very true, and it should feel true to any other cat people. He has five cats; we have three, but the differences are a matter of scale rather than type. Cat people are a little crazy about their cats. For instance, we struggle with their independence while considering that to be a feature. We keep the cat which lives under the bed, even though said cat doesn't actually DO any of the things that make cats pleasant - sit on your lap, for instance, or purr nicely. When my 15 pound beast of a cat flops on my lap in the 90 degree living room, I accept that as affection. Tarte describes life with cats. It will be familiar to others who have experienced life with cats. Again, if that's what you are looking for when you open the book, you won't have any problems.

In conclusion, a picture of my cat:

Ally Carter - Cross My Heart and Hope to Spy


The second of the Gallagher Girl novels. Girls' boarding school. Spies. Boys. The interaction of these three things. A delightful, if somewhat fluffy, novel - highly enjoyed. I do wonder, however, if all of the novels will end with what initially seems to be a "mission", but which turns out to be something else - I hope not, that would get predictable pretty quick.

I really like Carter's use of idiom; the way her teen characters talk is amusing, and feels authentic. I also like the way that the girls switch, effortlessly, between teen and spy in their outlook on life, and how the two outlooks often overlap - getting the kiss and getting the documents that will bring down an enemy government - equally important in the minds of the characters. Again, that feels authentic.

Isabel Cooper - Lessons After Dark


At least one of the purchasing agents at my local library shares my taste in books. (Actually, since I know that the children and teens librarian is a big fan of graphic novels, and that she often buys the sort of thing I like to read in that vein, there are probably two purchasing agents who share my tastes). This is the sequel to No Proper Lady, and it is really fun.

One of the problems that an author runs into when writing a sequel is where to place the emphasis. Obviously, you want to include the characters from the first book, because otherwise it isn't a sequel - what's the point? And yet (and this is especially true in a romance novel like this one), those characters have already had their story. You can't make them fall in lust/love/bed again, and expect it to work on the same level. So, sometimes its the siblings, or the best friend, or, in this case, the teachers who the characters have hired to train the magically empowered students at their manor house. That's right - this book is X-Men meets Harry Potter - a school for "gifted" students (in the country side of England), where the "gifts" in question are magical in nature. Olivia Brightmore is hired to teach ritual magic, and Gareth St. John has been hired as a school doctor - magic often results in injuries, and St.John has the added bonus of being magically gifted himself.

Plot wise, this one takes a little while to get going - the antagonist is a little nebulous, and so the external conflict doesn't really arise until the last 1/3 or 1/4 of the book. Which is fine, because this is a romance novel, and the tension we, the readers, are really interested in is the sexual tension between the two leads.  This book has sexual tension to spare. Olivia is a widow, St.John suspects that she's a con artist, there's mutual attraction, and mutual distrust (hard to trust a man who seems intent on exposing you as a fraud) - it's good stuff. Also, Cooper writes a very sex positive romance novel - Brightmore is a widow; she's not a stranger to sex, she knows what she likes, and she doesn't feel guilty about getting it. St. John doesn't trust Brightmore, but he also doesn't think less of her for the fact that she enjoys sex - no shrinking virgins or rape fantasies here, nicely done. Additionally, Cooper avoids the over use of the word "cock" in this book, without resorting to the absurdities of euphemisms that are so common in romance - "his tenderness", "her flower", etc etc. No, there are no vulgarities either. Also well done.

When the plot DOES pick up, it picks up in a big way. There are ghosts, and a demon, and maybe another demon, and curses, and Jack the Ripper makes a cameo appearance (well, ok, there's a mention of the Ripper murders, because it gets Mr. and Mrs. Grenville out of the house at an appropriate moment - Jack doesn't really play a role in this novel) - all sorts of good stuff, in terms of plot.

So. A good romance, a good paranormal story, some good regency stuff - lovely. Can't wait for book 3 - I'm expecting, as possible romantic main characters, either Miss Grenville, (sister of the male lead in book 1 - she's away on the Continent in this book, which means that book 3 could be concurrent, which would be fun), Miss Charlotte Woodwell (she talks to the animals), or possibly Michael Waite (he makes it rain) and either Miss Elizabeth or Miss Rosemary Talbot (daughters of the vicar who lives down the road). Hmmm. Lots of potential for sequels - the anticipation!

Monday Review Post, 5/21/2012

So, last week there were a series of very good reasons why I couldn't go to the library on Monday. This week, there's a series of very good reasons why Tuesday makes a better library day. Next week, Monday is Memorial Day, and the libraries are closed. So what I'm thinking is, I start too many sentences with "so". And, also, that Tuesday makes a perfectly legitimate library day for the summer. Also also, if I move Review Day to Monday, I'm actually covering everything I've read for the actual week, so I'm going to try that for a change, and we'll see how that goes.

With that in mind, I give you the following reviews:

Gary Younge - Who Are We? And Should it Matter in the 21st Century?


The answer to Younge's first question is "That's complicated." and to the second is "Yes, of course, possible more so than previously."

This was a fascinating book about how human beings build their identities around issues of class, race, gender, and nationality. Younge talks about growing up Barbadian in England, about the rules for being officially Jewish in Israel, about why Barack Obama's election caused such a reaction on both the Right and the Left in the US (and elsewhere), and why young men who were Manchester United fans, who enjoy fish and chips, speak English, and have long family histories in England were willing to take explosives onto the Underground in London and blow themselves up. There's a lot more in the book, but that's a pretty good taste, I think. That's why the first question is complicated - there's a LOT there. For instance, Younge looks at the 2008 election in the US - the primary between Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama. There, there was a conflict between race as a primary identifier and gender as a primary identifier.  Younge looks at the difficult question for black women - should they vote with their gender, or with their race, or was the question entirely irrelevant? He traces the dilemma back to the late 1860s, when there was considerable public debate over the 15th amendment to the US Constitution, which granted the right to vote to black men (but not women of any race). Some women suffragettes contended that it was more important to give the vote to women (regardless of race - they contended that it would be better for Irish women and Black women to be able to vote than Irish men or Black men.) Some Black suffragests (which isn't, apparently, a word) contended that it was more important for all Blacks, regardless of gender, to get the vote (that the vote was as important to Black women as Black men, but because they were Black, not because they were women.) It's really really complicated - and it still plays out in politics now - so the answer to Younge's second question seems fairly obvious.

The book is a very "thinky" book which has already prompted a couple of very very interesting discussions with friends.  It's not a particularly preachy book - Younge doesn't tell his readers how they ought to think about identity - their own or others - beyond stating that they ought to think about identity. He does provide a useful tip for those wondering if a friend is gay or not - assume they are, because straight people will quickly make it clear that they are not (by talking about girl/boy friends, showing you pictures, etc). Basically, let other people define and reveal their own identity. In instances where outside forces attempt to define identity on a broad scale (as with the issue of "official" Judaism in Israel, or the nature of "French-ness"), problems arise.

As a book, the book is really well written. Younge includes enough academic rigor to satisfy the educated reader, but writes with a clear prose that the lay reader will be able to digest, with the notable exception of the introduction, which is a little dense, and filled with academic jargon. I think you can skip the intro if it seems off-putting.

Basically, this book will enliven your dinner parties, and you should really read it. And get your friends to read it too, so that you have something to talk about.

Ally Carter - I'd Tell You I Love You, But Then I'd Have to Kill You


(Long titles this week) I'm cheating, because I grabbed this last week, but it was SO fluffy that I had to read it right away. It's a boarding school novel, and it's a spy novel - it's James Bond meets Enid Blighton - it's delightful, very cute, and very very fluffy.

Carter does a fantastic job of marrying the very light genre of the boarding school novel (which is all about being a young woman away from home, with your friends who are also young women away from home, and falling in love with boys who don't go to your school, and giggling and pillow fights. Except there are no pillow fights. Animal House lied to us.) and the somewhat darker genre of the spy novel, which is all about identity, and hidden identity, and not being who you say you are, or think you are (see, it's all connected!), and not being sure if you can trust people that you really ought to be able to trust. On some level, the boarding school novel is about discovering who you are, and the spy novel is about hiding who you are, and the pairing really works quite well. (Kinda like boarding school novels and light horror - Hickey of the Beast?)

That being said, the book is really very fluffy - a quick afternoon's read with a little bit more thinking than perhaps you might initially expect.

Andrew Lane - Rebel Fire (Sherlock Holmes: The Legend Begins)


(I'm forcing the "long title" thing here a little.) Lane has been authorized by the Doyle family to write a series of novels about the young Sherlock Holmes. I know I've mentioned this before. His theory is that Sherlock could not have had a normal childhood, because the character as described by Doyle is clearly badly damaged. As Holmes says of himself (in the modernized version, Sherlock), he's a high functioning sociopath. Lane shows us how Sherlock gets damaged.

With that in mind, this book has some fairly hefty trigger warnings. There's a gruesome death scene midway through. The villain has a thing about leaches which is really kinda creepy. There are several scenes of fairly significant peril involving large animals and drowning. And, remember, Sherlock, as described by Doyle, is a pretty dark guy, with a strong tendency towards depression and, consequently, drug use. In this novel, we see all of that (well, no drug use) - damage, depression, and darkness. Also, Sherlock learns to play the violin.

Again, this is a book about identity - about growing up and figuring how you fit into the world, and pondering if you WANT to fit into the world. What is important - friends, family, nation - humanity? Like Carter's novel, this book is surprisingly deep.

It's also delightfully cinematic. I recently heard an interview with Stephen Moffat (who is one of the writer/producers of Sherlock) in which he argued that Holmes was perfect for television - Doyle conceived of a series of episodic short stories; complete by themselves, but containing and being contained by an over arching storyline. Lane takes this a step further - the action is remarkably suited to the screen, and I can't wait - it's almost inevitable.

To that end, I have a treat (if I can figure out how to make it work) - a representative of Macmillan Press contacted me to offer me a short clip of the audio book, with permission to pass that on to you, my tens of readers. The audio clip is pretty nice too, good voice actor, nice accents, I can easily conceive of listening to the whole book read by this reader, possibly while on a road trip. It's the prologue, so it's not going to spoil anything. It does feature a leach, so if that sort of thing freaks you out, maybe don't listen to it.
This link should take you to the Audio File. Please do let me know if you can't access the file.
(I should say, incidentally, for legal reasons, that my review has not been affected by this largess in anyway.)


Jenny Lawson - Let's Pretend This Never Happened


Jenny Lawson is better known as The Bloggess - she blogs here - and this is her first book. It's part memoir, and part compilation of blog posts, and it's all amazingly hilarious. But, be warned, it's the sort of hilarious where, if you laugh at it (and you can't not laugh at it - I challenge you to try), you're going to hell. Well, probably not immediately, though.

Lawson has become internet famous by leveraging her unique style of describing her life on line. Her style is highly confessional, and displays a tendency to deliberately misinterpret what people are saying, for humorous effect. Oh, and to over react to things, and to spin things into lengthy stories.  Lawson is often the butt of her own stories, which takes the sting out of her snark a little (which it needs, because Lawson's snark is powerful strong). She bring all of that and more to her book, which is why, when the library told me this book had arrived on Saturday, I had to drop the serious academic book I was reading, and read this instead, because I knew the book was going to be AWESOME. And it is.

The book is about a whole bunch of things:

swimming squirrels
leukemia, and how Lawson may or may not be dying from it*
cats
taxidermy
growing up in rural West Texas
forks
depression
drug use
child birth and child rearing
getting married
a very happy wild boar, and
(among other things) how and how not to send pictures of your penis to your co-workers.

Mostly, though, this book is about identity. See, it's ALL connected! This is a book about growing up, figuring out who you are, deciding which bits of your seriously fucked up (Lawson swears. A lot. This is a warning) childhood you want to keep and which you don't. It's about figuring out how you fit into the world, and about how you don't fit, and about how you want to change to fit, and how you don't want to fit enough to change important parts of who you are. It's about discovering that women are not necessarily scary. And it's about cougars. The whole book is written in Lawson's delightfully scatty style, and it WILL make you laugh. Parts of it will probably also make you cry. Some parts will make you cringe in recognition, or in sympathy, or both. Parts of it may well be difficult to read - there are a plethora of potential triggers in this book, because Lawson is presenting large swathes of her life to her readers, more or less unfiltered, and some of it is pretty raw. In a lot of ways, Lawson is as damaged a person as Sherlock, and, like Sherlock, she has developed skills to work around her damage. Just like we all do, really. (Yes, I do believe I just compared Jenny Lawson to Sherlock Holmes...)

Anyway, the book is remarkable - a deeply emotional, and deeply satisfying, book. There are probably bits that you will like a great deal, and those will almost certainly make up for the bits you don't like as much (if they exist.) In a lot of ways, this may well be the best book I read this week.

*spoiler - she isn't.

That's it for this week, but watch this space for a contest announcement, and tomorrow's library post.

Witty Post Title Here

I made it to the library on Thursday, and picked up a couple of books:

Christopher Phillips - Constitution Cafe


Phillips tours around the US, talking to folks about the US constitution with the intention of writing a new draft of the document. Seems interesting.

Daniel O'Malley - The Rook


So, the tag is "On Her Majesty's Supernatural Secret Service" - beyond that, I didn't really need to read the dust jacket.

___________________

I also read five books this week. Well, four, and finished Dance With Dragons, but I had almost 200 pages of Dragons left to read, which is most of a novel all by itself, right? So, five.

George R.R. Martin - A Dance with Dragons


 The most recent of the Song of Ice and Fire books. I said last week that this book was too long, and I really think it was. Martin's innovative bit in this series is the use of lots and lots of point of view characters. It's a big deal, and it's realistically what keeps me reading the books - Martin has this gift of making a whole array of characters work. But, in this book, it feels a little out of hand. There were several points where I felt that I didn't really need another character. There were several places where I would start a new chapter and say "c'mon, I want to find out what's happening with the chapter I just finished," and then I'd get into the new chapter, and then it would end, and I'd say "c'mon, I want to know what's happening with the chapter that I just finished." And yet, were there fewer characters, surely I would miss something. Plus, it's dangerous to wish that Martin had fewer characters, because he's inclined to kill characters, and, often, it's the character that you really care about. So.

Still, the fear that I felt through this book is this: What if, when I finish reading the series, I look back, and discover that I really don't like the cumulative effect? A strong element of the series is unpleasant people doing nasty things to each other; I think there's a strong chance that, when the series is done, I'm not going to like what's left - the characters I like will be dead, the message will be "a strong dictator is necessary to make society function," and that's not something I want to see. But there's only one way to find that out, and that's to finish the series.

This book in particular is about identity. Various characters put on false faces over the course of the novel in order to survive. Other characters find themselves doing what they think is right, even though they don't want to. The characters who do the best in this book are the ones who remain closest to their central identity; the others find themselves getting swallowed by the false identity they've created for themselves (or had created for them), or they end up stabbed in the back. "To thine ownself be true," I suppose.

I'm not going to avoid the next book; there are still characters in the series that I like, and I do want to know how the story ends. I'm not going to wish for fewer characters, because Martin is holding my favorites ransom. I don't know how assiduously I'll look for the next book, though. This one was a slog, and I only enjoyed about 70% of it - maybe 80%.

Henry Alford - Would it Kill you to Stop Doing That?


As a tonic for Martin's unrelenting grey world, Alford could not have been better. This book sparkles - an exploration of the idea of manners and etiquette with a delightfully light tone. The tone throughout is snarky in that way that only a gay New Yorker can be snarky (which is to say, slightly less snarky than someone from the 1940's - although, a gay New Yorker writing during the 1940s - perhaps that would be unsustainable levels of snark, I don't know...).

Despite the light tone, Alford tackles a serious issue - etiquette, and the way we teach it. He concludes that manners are, on an important level, entirely artificial, and yet, on another important level, entirely critical to our continued survival as a species. He ponders the way that manners have evolved over time, and the way in which they are under pressure in this world of electronic media.  He looks at the writing of several etiquette columnists, and tries his hand at offering etiquette advice. He visits Tokyo, and describes his job as a visit coordinator in New York. There's a lot of stuff in this book!

All in all, a delightful read; light, but deep, and well worth a look.

Kevin Hearne - Hounded


The first of the Iron Druid series. Atticus O'Sullivan is a multi-centuries old Druid, living in Arizona, running a occult book shop, and hiding from the Celtic love god, Aengus Og, who wants Atticus' sword. And to run the Tuatha De Dannan.

This was a fun book, with lots of funny bits, and a bunch of action. Hearne has put a great deal of thought into  how Atticus would approach the modern world, and has obviously done at least a little research on Iron Age druids and Celtic deities. Plus, there's a talking Irish Wolfhound, and I'm a sucker for a talking dog. Although my wife complained that the dog was too smart - I dunno.

First book in a series, but Hearne ends it solidly, with only the most basic of loose ends to tie into the next book. However, my local library system owns the second and third book, but the second book is being repaired, so I may have to wait some time before I get to find out what happens next.

Adam Selzer - Extraordinary


This is a world sequel from I Kissed a Zombie, and I Liked It - the book is set in the same Iowa setting, where zombies and vampires have "come out of the coffin," but a couple of years (I think, I haven't read the first one) later, and with a totally different cast of characters (except, possibly, Fred the vampire).

Jenny Van Der Burg narrates this book as a counter narrative to Born to Be Extraordinary, which is the "fictional" account of her encounter with a fairy godmother, as told by Eileen Codlin. I was hoping for a little more of "Codlin's" narrative, but Selzer gives enough - a passage or so before each chapter - for the counter-narrative to work. Van Der Burg insists that the way things happened is entirely different from what Codlin says, and that all of the girls who have started camping on her lawn in order to be turned into princesses should just get over themselves and go home...

Narratively, this is a relatively straight-forward YA high school novel, with vampires and a fairy god - well he's not a god mother. He prefers "godmofo." A performance of The Music Man features, as does a very smelly unicorn, and a young man named Mutual.

In the end, this is slightly deeper than the set up would suggest, but not much. It's a quick read; quirky and light, and an interesting addition to the "vampire at high school" ouvre. I'm happy to say, though, that my concept for a fairy godmother centered novel is firmly intact.

Ally Carter - Uncommon Criminals


Speaking of quirky and light - this is the sequel to Heist Society - a cute little caper novel with a high school aged girl as the protagonist. Katarina Bishop has decided, after the events of the previous novel, that she will only steal stuff that has been wrongfully taken from its owner - paintings stolen by Nazis, for instance. She is approached by a woman with a story about an emerald - supposedly once owned by Cleopatra, and discovered by the woman's archeologist parents, but then stolen by their unscrupulous assistant. She contracts Katrina to steal the emerald back. Of course, the emerald is cursed - what would be the point otherwise? - and also heavily guarded. Still, Kat puts together her string, and they (somewhat reluctantly) set out to steal the stone.

This has all of the elements of a good caper novel, with a little teen romance/angst thrown in for good measure. It has complex schemes with absurd names. It has flashy locations (Monte Carlo! Paris!). It has painstaking actions scenes where crooks have to work through a series of tasks under exacting conditions. It has double and triple crosses. It doesn't have the pratfall ending where everyone gets part of what they want, but no-one gets everything; I suppose I can't have everything. Anyway, it's delightful, a little silly, but generally good - I recommend it for fans of YA and fans of caper novels. A nice sequel.

Friday Reviews, 10/7/2011

So, it comes to that point on a Friday evening where I'm reading a book, and I could probably finish it before midnight, and then post about three books instead of two - or I could wait, and post about it next week. And I'm thinking next week is the better bet, because what if I don't finish it by midnight? And, anyway, I have no particular desire to be up at midnight making a post, although heaven knows it's happened before. So, only two books this week. Although it might have been three, and not just because I'm part way through a third - my wife keeps stealing my books from me! Good taste, that.

Anyway. Two books this week:

Ally Carter - Heist Society


So, last week I read a couple of books that were "caper" novels. One, the Cherie Priest, I defined as such, and the other, the Eoin Colfer, I suggested was mis-advertised. This week, however, I had an actual caper novel, and I'm thinking that the Priest novels are not, really, caper novels at all. They're a lot closer to spy novels, perhaps. Raylene doesn't run a string so much as she reluctantly accepts the assistance of a side kick - she's very much a lone wolf type. And the focus of the books is not really so much a specific criminal exploit as it is a quest, a search for the next piece in a puzzle. So, I rescind Priest's caper novel designation (without, I should stress, implying that there is anything AT ALL wrong with the books, which are fantastic).

Ally Carter has written a caper novel. Katarina Bishop, for a number of very good reasons, must break into a heavily guarded art museum in London, and steal five paintings. To make things interesting, the art museum is entirely unaware that the paintings are there in the first place. To accomplish this, Kat (what the hell, spell check! Katarina isn't acceptable, but Kat is? No wonder my students can't spell.) must assemble a string of fellow thieves. Together, they assemble a complex plan which involves subterfuge, con artistry, a little bit of sneaking around, and a pinch of pyrotechnics. As is generally the case in a caper novel, things don't quite go as planned. As I suggested last week, one of the key elements of the caper novel is the moment at the end where all of the participants have gotten a piece of what they wanted, but not all. If the participants in a caper got everything, nothing would keep them from retirement. Just ask Donald Westlake - his character, John Dortmunder, gets almost everything he wants in What's the Worst that Could Happen?, and promptly retires (only to be brought back for another five novels, only one of which fully lives up to the tradition of the series.)

Carter has not only written a proper caper novel, she's done an excellent job of it. The writing sparkles - consider this bit:

The assembly of a crew is a monumental event in a young thief's life. There are meetings and phone calls, Plans, and occasionally, a celebratory cake.

 It's the cake which really seals the deal for me, frankly. The whole book is like this, just a little wry, just a touch funny - and that's the way it should be. I think the standard audience isn't really interested in reading about criminals without that touch of funny - The Talented Mr. Ripley entirely to one side. Still, even with that touch of funny, Carter has woven a truly (and surprisingly!) complex plot which is about morals and ethics as much as it is about art theft. I really enjoyed the book, and would recommend it highly, especially for avid readers of YA. An example of high praise - I went looking for the sequel on Tuesday/  I didn't see it; perhaps it was on a cart somewhere, since it had been part of a display which had recently been dismantled. Maybe next week.

Daniel H. Wilson - Robopocalypse


If you liked Max Brooks' World War Z, I think there's a decent chance you'll enjoy this book too. It's not a zombie book, but there's an eerie similarity between Brooks' zombies and Wilson's robots. Both are implacable foes. Both overwhelm the humans more through the use of numbers than through cunning (although Wilson presents Archos as a central organizer of the robots, and the chief villain here - a queen ant, if you will - that Brooks does not. The robots have direction, in a very broad sense, just not autonomy). The narrative style is quite similar as well, distantly linked vignettes presented as historical primary sources, and finally coming together as a narrative whole.

I don't wish to imply that Wilson's novel is derivative, because it isn't. He's clearly going in his own direction here, and exploring some interesting questions about humanity while he does so. Still, by framing the book as a future history, Wilson is somewhat limited in his narrative choices. It's clear from the outset - from the first paragraph, even - that humanity wins the war against Big Rob. Wilson can only stray very tentatively from that central idea - he can't, half way through, present the idea that, in fact, humanity has lost. He can't even suggest it in a twisty sort of way, really. (Although, you know, it depends on how you view motivations. Archos claims from the beginning that his goal is to create a world in which humans and robots can share equally - to what extent is that the world that exists at the end of the book? Unpack and discuss, using no more than one blue book. You may, if you wish, use quotations. 50 pts) I can't help but wonder if that was a mistake, frankly. Would it have been better to keep the reader guessing, wondering if what we're reading is a triumphant account of victory or a final bitter account of ultimate defeat? I'm not really sure.

I will say this - zombies and robots solve one of the perennial problems of mil-fic. How can an author write about war while avoiding the human tendency to de-humanize the enemy? It is possible to present both sides of the conflict, if you are writing about a historical war (although few authors do, frankly. It's much easier to stick to one side of the account. Bernard Cornwell doesn't go out of his way to humanize Napoleon's army, any more that C.S. Forester went out of his way to humanize Napoleon's navy.). I suppose it might be easier to do that if you are writing about an entirely fictional war - but with zombies and/or robots, you don't have to humanize the enemy. Everyone recognizes that Big Zed or Big Rob is NOT human. (And yet, Wilson plays with that idea too - what constitutes "human"? CAN humans and robots live together, once true artificial intelligence is created?)

Hmmm. As I write about it, I am beginning to think that this was actually quite a deep book, pretending to be somewhat shallow. If you like deep books which, at least on the surface, feel somewhat shallow, or if you like mil-fic which turns out to ask some rather probing questions, or if you like zombie/robot apocalypse novels, then this is clearly the book for you.