Sunday, 11 January 2015


No messing around here. Nine pages in, the Admiral is dead. Totalitarian fascists are even bigger dicks than walking chrome toasters. Twenty-nine pages later, the long flight of the fleet has begun. If this is an obvious rewriting of the new Galactica (it is; Campbell’s claim 2006 and 2003 are “about the same time” is ridiculous), there’s no interest in redoing the miniseries, part one. Just no time. Fight, brood, fight, brood. Done. Readable in a weekend; a holiday book leaving you plenty of holiday when you've finished. Not smart (though perhaps pleasingly progressive), but fun.

And fast.

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