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This novella picks up directly where A Psalm for the Wind-Built ends, but continues in a more spaced out pace. We follow Dex and Mosscap through a series of vignettes as they tour the human side of Panga, which gives Becky Chambers the opportunity to showcase more of her exquisite world building. While in the first book we learned about the history and glimpsed at a slice of human life, in this one we meet more varied communities, each with their unique spin on the prevailing hope punk aesthetic.

Unlike the first story, which relied heavily on interactions between just Dex and Mosscap, here we see them engage with different characters on their journey. In a way this dilutes the narrative; the numerous side characters are not as deeply developed, the exchanges with them not so philosophically intricate. At first I resented this difference in treatment, but by the end of it I grew to appreciate the ways in which these interactions serve as opportunities to showcase the deepening relationship between Dex and Mosscap.

If in the first book the monk and the robot were getting to know each other, here they develop a true friendship. The structure of the two stories lines up, and this one too culminates with a conversation between the two of them hearkening back to the end of the first story. And again, they reach no answers, just some insights. There's wisdom here again, and truthiness, and a touch more feel good vibes.

Thoroughly delightful respite from gloomy books I've been reading lately.

I've enjoyed Becky Chambers' work for years, and I feel she distilled it to perfection in this novella. Length-wise it is just enough to paint a picture of a beautiful solarpunk world, and to give us characterization of Dex, the main protagonist. There is nothing superfluous to it, and there is no rush either; the pace is contemplative and purposeful.

I loved the world building; the slow paced, hopeful world of Panga feels like a perfect place for me. On the other hand, it is a clever backdrop for Dex's angst and struggle to find their own purpose in life. Chambers pulls off a great feat with portrayal of Dex; they feel rich, complex and fully realized human being. Clever too is the contrast of the titular robot to Dex's monk, and the cute, often philosophical exchanges between them.

I also liked the book's ending. It might leave things seemingly unresolved, but the story climax presents convincing argument for the value of self discovery over finding the (unattainable) solutions. In its philosophy, its character and world building, and its beauty, this story felt true to me, and that's my favorite thing.

I read this novel by accident. I looked it up after hearing about the dark forest hypothesis and I somehow missed the fact that this is the second book in a trilogy. I read the Three-Body Problem few years ago but didn't particularly like it. I found the same faults repeated in this novel too.

This book reads like a story from the science fiction's golden age: it has an interesting sci-fi concept at it's core, and it logically extrapolates from there. Cixin Liu does a really good job at this; at times it feels like Asimov's Foundation. Unlike the previous book, this one takes the plot into the farther future, and Liu gets to flex his creative muscle. The depiction of future cities and spaceships is well thought out and realistic. As a whole this book felt like reading through a game of chess.

Which leads me to the first of my objections: characters seem robotic. Even when they cite emotion as a factor in their decision-making process, this citation itself appears as a line in a logical proof. The characters just don't read as emotional beings.

The same "logic first" approach is applied to societies at large. As plot progresses through time we see countries taking actions which would fill entire novels seemingly "by decree". This simplifications feels like something Clarke would do, to help him explore an idea without getting lost in minutia of every-day reality. Unfortunately, it is this reality that makes for a more convincing story.

While these things are excusable as valid stylistic choices, and even necessary for Liu to tell the kind of story that he wants, my final qualm does not. It relates to portrayal of female characters.

There are few of them in the novel, the most prominent one being positioned squarely as a love interest of a male protagonist. What's worse, more pages have been devoted to his fantasizing about a "perfect woman" than to her actual character. When she does eventually appear it's because she has been kidnapped and brought as a some sort of a gift for the protagonist. She has been picked for this honor predominately based on her appearance. She is there for a chapter or two, in which time she falls in love with the protagonist, and is then kidnapped yet again and held as a hostage to ensure his cooperation. He proceeds to lament this turn of events until the end of the novel, but reflects on his fantasy more often than on the actual woman.

There is one more notable female character, and she is admittedly inflicted by fewer tropes. Although she too gets manipulated by another male protagonist, begrudges him at first, but then realizes the superiority of his idea and goes along with it. She ends up thinking of him as a fatherly figure.

All this seems fine to the rest of the characters and the narrator, and that is what makes it objectionable. It's one thing for a book to critique this treatment, or to omit it entirely. But the way it is presented here just feels wrong to me.

Perhaps I had too high expectations. But then again, it's H. P. Lovecraft. I'd say his work is generally hyped a lot. This was my first encounter with his opus and it was decidedly meh.

I guess my main issue is that simply restating that a thing is terrible and scary over and over again does not make it scary. Majority of descriptions are second hand in so far as they describe the impact of events, setting, etc. on the main protagonist (i.e. he perceived them as scary), and not the inherent quality of themselves. Even the description of this second hand impact is somehow sterile.

The novella is written as a quasiscientific report from an old school research expedition. Perhaps that is what influenced the sterile delivery. Then again, I contrast this with Eversion by Alastair Reynolds which came out recently, adopts a similar style (and to a point theme), and yet manages to delivers far more compelling storytelling. Of course, it is also a much newer book. But if I am to judge Lovecraft as the master of the genre I can't really disregard this issue on the grounds of relative age of his works.

One thing I liked was the feeling of a larger prevailing mythos loosely connecting this and other Lovecraft's works. It gave the world a richer texture. But, for now at least, I guess I won't be exploring this world any further.

While I'm a big fan or Terry Pratchett's Discworld series, the first few Rincewind focused novels are my least favorite. Unfortunately this book shares not only close publication date, but also many of the traits of those early novels which I find disagreeable.

In its core this is an adventure story, with a lot of references to staples of the sci-fi genre, wrapped in a lot of clever world building ideas. However, those ideas are not given proper room to grow and develop; instead plot is propelled ever forward by silly or at times outright nonsensical events. The adventure loses any gravitas it might have had to attempts at silly humor, and I ended up not caring about the characters who felt like empty caricatures.

This is a pity because in his later works Pratchett does manage to craft some of the most wholesome fictional characters I ever encountered. And the sci-fi concepts in this book are an interesting blend of rehashing and original. Unfortunately actual negatives outweigh this potential.