It is a truth universally acknowledged that no one can write like Douglas Adams. Valente knows that, which is is why she writes like Cat Valente in the flavor of Douglas Adams and it is brilliant in its own right and far better than had she tried to be Adams. She has his sense of the whimsy, his magical ability to take a metaphor and turn it into a shaggy dog story all without losing the metaphor. And she knows the role of the absurd in fiction.
That said, Valente lacks some of Adams' cynicism, though her pointed observations about the human race are no less biting than Adams, the sense of hope that she brings to her writing does not obscure all the terrible things that she notes, but cuts through them like the glass of a disco ball and takes you out the other side, a bit bloodied, but triumphant. It's kind of genius.

The school year is over so let the Hugo reading commence!
The only reason I don't regret waiting to read this book is that I can now jump straight into the sequel. This book got all the hype and I have to say it was deserved. In the traditions of Martha Wells and Lois McMaster Bujold, Gailey crafts her world around the characters and then delights us as we watch them navigate that world. The point is to tell a great story, but the story itself has layers and peels back nicely.
And I just took book two out of the library, which, as I said, is the reason I don't regret the wait for this one. Excellent hippo cowboys, would corral again.

Ahhh, the sweet taste of resolution.
I am very glad I read this duology back to back and the hippo ranchers and hoppers of the South that might have been remain a delight.

And then the Civil War was interrupted by the zombie uprising.
Brilliant!
Ireland's zombie story feels, dare I say it, fresh in its take on zombies, steampunk, and the racial divides in the US. It's a story about what we do with the kids we don't care about, who fights our wars, and the consequences of both passing and rising up.
It is ALSO the story of black girls literally killing it in their fight to stay alive and have their knowledge valued.
I always appreciate it when books with excellent premises and a lot of hype live up to their promise and Dread Nation does not disappount.

The great thing about queer 19th century romance is that the authors do not need to come up with increasingly convoluted reasons to keep the lovers apart. Rather than resorting to awful relatives, one or the other of the two lovers being stupendous jerks, or handing someone the proverbial idiot ball, the plot conflict is obvious. They’re queer and it’s the 19th century.
This often improves the story as it lets you tell the narrative of two people in love learning to work together against a common enemy. (Not that I don’t appreciate a well-done “I hate this person and want to bone them at the same time” story...it’s just that so few are well done.)
At the same time, the fact that this is a queer narrative means that there are certain issues that arise that don’t appear in heterosexual fiction: the fixation with paying one’s own way and of not being a financial burden struck me as interesting because it’s not common in heterosexual romance set in this era...for obvious reasons. Women are always burdens on their spouses and the male financial situation is expected to accommodate a woman. Or the reverse: women who men seduce for their future, but fall in love with them...and their fortune. Everyone is literally ALWAYS marrying for money.
So is the discomfort with it here a reflection of how toxic masculinity impedes care, an example of a more honest relationship freed from the capitalism that infests hetersosexual bonds, or merely a reflection of Aubrey’s own pride combined with how class expectations create skewed understandings of autonomy.

This book is definitely a perfectly adequate thing that happened.
There were a few standout stories—Meg Cabot, Ken Liu, and Nnedi Okorafor in particular—who gave their characters voices and a strong sense of style. They felt like they were telling a story for a reason, not just to fill in the gaps.
I think I would have preferred this book out of chronological order, especially all the bits in the Cantina. Two were fine, but man did that go on.
Also, Leia was described as small a LOT. Once per story is a bit much.
A good book for fans, but possibly meant to be read a story at a time.

I feel like there is nothing I can add to the summary of this book that will improve on the summary. Holmes is a lady who is still a total jerk and Watson is an emotionally compromised space ship. What else is there?

Hugo reading continues more or less apace.
Scalzi has definitely honed his craft and there is an effortlessness to the humor and characterization in his later books that I really enjoy.
This is deeply irritating as I’m having a very hard time deciding on the Hugo rankings this year.
Also, I would like the next book right now please and thank you.

A while ago I mentioned that "I hate you and want to bang you" is a frustrating trope because it's just usually not done well.
In shocking news, Charles does it well. Justin and Nathaniel are delightfully scrappy and I really enjoyed it.