The final book in David Zindell’s trilogy is supremely underwhelming. His striking prose is unable to redeem the meandering plot or make up for the total lack of resolution in some key storylines. But even said prose starts to feel tedious after awhile, especially when the protagonist — who is practically perfect in every way — experiences a mind-blowing epiphany seemingly every other chapter, epiphanies that Zindell describes in great detail. Perhaps most annoying of all, the novel’s climax is basically a riff on classic utilitarianism, which (A) requires the protagonist to abandon the lofty idealism he’s spouted throughout the trilogy and (B) undermines Zindell’s passionately written ruminations on life’s purpose and humanity’s potential.

The sequel to 2021’s A Psalm for the Wild-Built chronicles the ongoing travels of Sibling Dex and their robot companion, Mosscap. This is good lazy weekend comfort reading: it’s slight and not too demanding or action-packed but it’s filled with charming little moments that’ll put a smile on your face. More than the story, I enjoy Chambers’ world-building, and want to know more about Panga’s history and various cultures.

I had mixed reactions to the drama in this novel about a pair of lifelong friends and video game designers whose relationship evolves and breaks and heals over the years. But I did enjoy the snapshots of ’80s and ’90s video game nostalgia as well as the commentary on the video game industry as a whole (commentary that, thankfully, never felt heavy-handed or pedantic).

Zindell continues to fascinate and frustrate. His prose can be compelling and even strikingly beautiful in its description of a far-distant spacefaring future. But it’s also ponderous and long-winded, with segues and side quests that are a slog (and could’ve used an editor’s red pen). I’m glad to be reading this trilogy, but I’ll be glad to be done with it.

Like Andy Weir (Project Hail Mary, The Martian), Blake Crouch writes sci-fi that’s intellectually stimulating thanks to the science involved, but at the same time, real page-turners. (I think I read Upgrade in two days, total.) That said, Upgrade may have been too much of a page-turner; it felt perfunctory given the heady topic involved (genetic engineering). As for the ending, I get why Crouch wanted to end the novel on an optimistic note, but it rang a bit false to me and left a bad taste in my mouth.

The final book in Alexander’s Prydain series. Elegant storytelling steeped in Welsh mythology. What strikes me the most is how elegiac and melancholy it is, from the various sacrifices that each main character has to make, to the bittersweet ending. And it’s all the better because of it. It affected me as an adult; I can only imagine how it would’ve affected me had I read it as a kid.

Allegedly based on a classic Japanese folk tale, Gaiman’s story is a joy to read. Even better, though, is Amano’s incredibly lush and vivid artwork. His dreamlike imagery is a perfect match for Gaiman’s prose.

Blackout is billed as a “gripping WW2 thriller,” but while I enjoyed it well enough and found its Nazi Germany setting interesting, I wouldn’t exactly call it “gripping.” It moves at a brisk pace but I was never on the edge of my seat. What’s more, the protagonist’s angst — to be fair, he’s in a pretty unenviable position — and stricken conscience both become rather on-the-nose by the novel’s final act.

Given that it’s basically a Lovecraftian spy thriller, I expected to like this a lot more than I actually did. However, the nonstop snarky tone got tedious after awhile, as did all of the spy lingo and technobabble. There are apparently a dozen novels in Charles Stross’ Laundry Files series, plus various novellas and spin-offs. But I’m good after just this one.

Lois McMaster Bujold’s The Curse of Chalion is one of my favorite fantasy novels of all time. This novella is set in the same world, though a century earlier. It’s a nice return to the World of the Five Gods, but does pale in comparison to Bujold’s novels set in that mythical world.

While reading this psychological thriller about a mother who’s concerned about her daughter’s bizarre behavior, I kept waiting for it all to come together. But after I finished reading it and described it to my wife, the more preposterous and nonsensical it seemed, including the twist in the final pages. You know how some things are greater than the sum of their parts? This is the opposite of that.

David Zindell’s Neverness is one of the more interesting sci-fi novels I’ve ever read, and The Broken God picks up where it left off. Zindell’s prose is often breathtakingly beautiful and his world building is ambitious but he’s also prone to heady philosophizing and meandering narratives that can pretentious.

I love this utterly bizarre and super-metaphysical Star Trek novel in which the Enterprise uses an experimental engine built by a singing glass spider to travel to another universe where there’s no entropy, the crew’s thoughts all start to run together, and a proto-god threatens both universes. Written way back in 1983, it feels unique and blissfully free of any franchise “baggage.” (Read my review)

This collection of short stories and novellas isn’t necessary reading if you enjoyed the Expanse novels, but it does flesh out some of the characters, both main and secondary. I think my favorite story was probably “The Churn,” a dark and disturbing tale from Amos Burton’s younger days, followed by “The Vital Abyss,” which explores Paolo Cortázar’s research into the alien protomolecule.

I’ve been slowly making my way through Alexander’s Prydain series over the last year or so. I never read them as a kid, but given how much I like them as an adult, I think 11-year-old Jason would’ve loved them. This book, in particular, contained some poignant ruminations on honor, duty, and freedom.

Well, Daniel Abraham and Ty Franck pulled it off. After nine books, they wrapped up The Expanse in a way that’s both very fitting and rewarding, but also leaves behind some interesting ethical/philosophical questions about the character’s actions. And I appreciate how the book jumps back and forth between cynicism and optimism concerning humanity right up until the final pages.

These books just keep getting better and better. The invasion of Laconia was thrilling, there were several moments that practically had me cheering, and though some of the revelations could be seen coming from a mile away, they were no less enjoyable for that. I also loved the vivid imagery used to describe the various weird alien phenomena. Can’t wait to dive into the final book.

Set in the distant future à la Gene Wolfe’s Book of the New Sun, The Pastel City jumps back and forth between sci-fi and fantasy with a pulp-y style. As a fan of both Wolfe’s stories and Michael Moorcock’s Elric saga, The Pastel City hit a sort of weird sweet spot for me.

The thirty-year time jump took a little getting used to, but the updated character relationships and revelations of the Laconian Empire made up for it. Given that I watched The Expanse before reading the novels, it was nice to finally start reading a story that I hadn’t already seen in some way, shape, or form.