I’ve been up to no good lately — if by “no good” we mean reading and watching science fiction. That bad behavior has been a constant all my life. It began in early grade school when I started picking my own reading material.
Prominent in the very first SF books I ever read is the Lucky Starr series, by Isaac Asimov (writing as “Paul French”). The books were written for a juvenile audience, and I was exactly that audience.
Just recently, two of the six novels showed up as e-books at my local library. Nicely, one of the two is the first of the series, and I’m reading it now.
The series comprises six novels:
- David Starr, Space Ranger (1952) 📖 reading now
- Lucky Starr and the Pirates of the Asteroids (1953)
- Lucky Starr and the Oceans of Venus (1954)
- Lucky Starr and the Big Sun of Mercury (1956)
- Lucky Starr and the Moons of Jupiter (1957)
- Lucky Starr and the Rings of Saturn (1958)
The other one available at my library is #3, Lucky Starr and the Oceans of Venus. I’ll read that next, though I seemed to have switched from reading mode to blogging mode lately. Since the latter has been elusive since Spring, I’ll indulge it as long as it lasts.
So far, the writing is what I’d expect from Asimov writing in the 1950s for a juvenile audience. David Starr, son of the beloved Lawrence Starr, has just been accepted into the Council of Science (a very 50s name):
The Council of Science was not an official government agency, but its members were nearly above the government.
From a time when science was seen as savior. And very much the vision of the early SF writers such as Asimov (and much later, Gene Roddenberry). David is soon enmeshed in a Space Adventure investigating a possible terror plot that involves random poisoning of food grown on Mars (one of Earth’s key breadbaskets — Earth can no longer feed itself).
Both David’s parents were killed by Space Pirates when he was a child. The text describing it is too deliciously retro not to share. The outlaws have forced their way onto the ship…
…Barbara, a blast gun in her hand, desperately thrusting David into the lifeboat, trying to set the controls as best she could, rocketing it into space. And then?
She had a gun in her hand. As long as she could, she must have used it against the enemy, and when that could be no longer, against herself.
Exciting reading for this grade-school kid! The family friend reminiscing about this goes on to wish he had been allowed to help “turn the asteroid caves into flaming oceans of atomic destruction” (but Council of Science members are too valuable to risk in such actions).
David, our hero, is described as “reaching six feet, rangy and hard, with the cool nerves and quick muscles of an athlete and the sharp, clear brain of a first-class scientist.” The two friends (and Council scientists) who raised him speculate a bit about the radiation David received in the lifeboat as an explanation for his almost unnatural prowess. (Back when we thought radiation granted superpowers. It worked for Spider-Man, the Hulk, the Fantastic Four, and others, so why not?)
The book isn’t long, nor any challenge to read, but as I mentioned, I seem out of reading mode for the moment. There is also that the book is (intentionally, of course) juvenile and inescapably very 1950s SF.
I’ll report back after reading both books.
[I was back then a voracious reader of library books, reading everything they had by Asimov, Clarke, Heinlein, E.E. “Doc” Smith, and all the other early SF authors. Their stories combined two of my favorite things: science and imagination. Some even stirred a favorite third ingredient: laughter.]
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Last September I very much enjoyed When the Moon Hits Your Eye (2025), a recent novel by John Scalzi [see Sci-Fi Saturday 9/5/26].
This month I very much enjoyed another Scalzi book, Agent to the Stars (2005). It’s the second science fiction novel he published — the first standalone SF novel.
[The same year, he also published Old Man’s War, the first book of what is now a popular ten-book series (which I haven’t gotten into, yet).]
Agent to the Stars, a comedy, is told first person from the protagonist Tom Stein’s POV. He’s a resourceful agent representing actors for a small Hollywood agency. His most notable client is Michelle Beck, a rising action star who is brainless but earnest in her desire to break into “serious acting” despite having no real talent (or anything amounting to acquired skills).
As the book begins, Tom’s boss, owner of the agency, calls Tom into a private meeting and asks him to farm out his current clients so he can devote all his attention to a new client, named Joshua. Who is a Very Important Client. A genuinely game-changing client.
Because Joshua is an alien, the first Earth has experienced.
Joshua’s people, the Yherajk, have been in space near Earth for many years learning our language from our TV broadcasts. As such, they’re steeped in modern culture (as seen on TV). They’re completely friendly and eager to meet us.
There’s just one small problem: the Yherajk are, in their natural state, undifferentiated mostly transparent blobs of what looks more or less like phlegm (but is, in fact, warm and dry to the touch). To top it off, they communicate using smells. Powerful and to Earth people incredibly odious smells. A meeting of many Yherajk that involves much yelling puts out a stink that can knock an Earthling unconscious.
Essentially, they have a horrendous PR problem. They know full well how Earthlings are likely to react to their first aliens ever (the Yherajk have seen The Blob, its remake, and similar films). And then there’s the smell.
So, they’ve decided they need an agent. A smart one who can figure out a way to introduce the Yherajk to humanity in a way that won’t cause mass freakouts and revulsion.
I tend to do well with Scalzi’s comedies, and this one is no exception. I thoroughly enjoyed it and give it an Ah! rating. It’s fairly well-grounded in terms of the science in the fiction, the aliens basically make sense.
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As a quick aside, I also read the Scalzi short story The President’s Brain is Missing (2010). In it, Presidential staffers come to realize the President’s brain is missing. Literally, it’s just not there. Yet the President continues to function normally.
For obvious reasons, it was a bit weird to read in 2026…
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I apparently haven’t mentioned Daniel H. Wilson here.
I’m surprised, because I thought I would have mentioned Robopocalypse (2011) and Robogenesis (2014) back when I wrote about the C. Robert Cargill books [see Robot Apocalypse!]. Both two-book series involve robots taking over humanity Terminator-style.
The Wilson books focus more on the battle between humans and robots, and I’m not a big fan of battle stories. There is a sameness to them.
Recently, I decided to read his The Clockwork Dynasty (2017) and Hole in the Sky (2025). The latter is tagged SF/horror, and I guess it was, but I couldn’t make much sense of the plot, to be honest. I skimmed through most of the latter half of the book and give it a Meh! rating. I apparently am alone in that assessment, because the book is well regarded and has been optioned for a film.
A few notes:
- Another good start that got tedious.
- Not SF, horror fantasy with nightmare logic. Meh.
- One dumb image after another. Visual not sensible.
- No explanation of abilities or reasons.
- Mikayla has the superpowers of autism.
- A giant brain structure! 😄
- Main villain reminds me of the one in ST:TNG’s “Skin of Evil” (a widely acknowledged bad episode in part because of the villain).
- Felt derivative; didn’t care about the characters.
I liked The Clockwork Dynasty better but thought it bogged down a bit around 70% through. It’s a modern day steampunk story featuring a race of mechanical beings created by an advanced civilization over a thousand years ago. Their innards consist of lots of fine clockwork levers and gears.
This is also soft SF to the point of fantasy; nothing is explained. These ancient clockwork creatures, called avtomat, are animated and powered by a crescent-shaped piece in their chest called an anima. Effectively, their soul but also their energy source. While the avtomat have created advanced technology allowing them to repair their very strong and robust bodies from occasional damage (making them almost immortal), they cannot fix, recreate, or repower their anima.
The story alternates chapters between modern day and Russia in 1725, in both cases in first person. In the present, June Stefanov, an anthropologist specializing in ancient technology, makes a discovery that pulls her into the hidden and deadly world of the avtomat. In the past, the story follows two avtomat, Peter and “sister” Elena. Peter mistakenly believes he was created at that time and place, but we learn the avtomat are much older than that. June meets Peter early on.
It’s fine if you like that sort of thing, but it didn’t do much for me. I have a few last notes:
- The avtomat remind me of golem and how they contain a written word in their head that animates and guides them. The avtomat have a symbol engraved on their anima that guides their thinking and personality (Peter’s involves serving; Elena’s involves logic).
- How do they sense things? They clearly can feel touch and can smell and, obviously, see and hear. How?
- The story works pretty much the same if the avtomat are elves hidden among us.
- Peter is a dick and obsessed with Elena.
I give it an Eh! rating.
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Another quick aside: I reread The Martian (2011), the first novel by Andy Weir. I wrote about his third book, Project Hail Mary (2021), back in February [see Weir: Project Hail Mary].
Both books, of course, were adapted into movies successful with audiences and critics. I consider the 2026 Project Hail Mary adaptations one of the better ones I’ve seen [see Project Hail Mary videos]. For me, each of Weir’s books has been better than the last.
In fact, I didn’t care for The Martian when it came out (neither the book nor the movie). I think I was counter-reacting to the insane-billionaire-induced lust for going to Mars that was going on at the time. The last thing I wanted was yet another science fiction story on Mars.
There is also that it’s essentially a person-stranded-on-a-desert-island story, and that’s a fairly old theme.
That said, I enjoyed the reread more than I expected and would give the movie another chance if it comes around on one of my streaming platforms.
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The guy who came to measure my windows and doors for replacement turned out to be (these days, yet another) science fiction fan, and we got to chatting about books and shows we liked.
He recommended a favorite of his, Dungeon Crawler Carl (2020), the first in an eight-book series by Matt Dinniman.
It’s modern day science fantasy that starts off by annihilating just about everyone on Earth. The only survivors are those who did not have any kind of roof over their heads at the moment the hammer fell (so to speak, but appropriately). “Any kind of roof” includes tents and cardboard boxes. To survive the initial event, there had to be sky above your head.
Carl is one of the few million who survive because he was outside (in his underwear and a tee-shirt) chasing his ex-girlfriend’s escaped cat, Princess Donut. A message broadcast to the comparative handful of survivors advises them, on penalty of pending death, to find one of the many entrances scattered around the world. These lead to the dungeon, a D&D-style game avidly watched as entertainment by trillions around the galaxy.
Of course, the object for the remaining Earth folks is to not die. I can’t say I loved it, but I do have the next two on hold with the library. Whether I continue depends on where things go and if it stays fresh. As always, it’s a sign of my disengagement that I took notes:
- Rather derivative; nothing original. Seems very age 20s age level in terms of language and topical refs.
- I am so tired of the constant snark in modern lit and screen.
- Everyone sounds the same.
- Weird that the author uses “2/3s” and “3/4s” rather than “two-thirds” and “three-quarters”. I’ve never seen that done before.
- Obviously oriented towards gamers with terms such as “mob” and “buff”.
- A lot of it feels random and makes no sense (another defect of modern storytelling, I think). For instance, drug dealing llamas.
- Reductive. Assumes aliens are the same boring assholes as us.
- Definitely pure fantasy (no science).
- The lone human against high odds fantasy trope.
- The D&D details are so boring!
- Having healing spells tends to ruin tension.
- Occupies time with stuff that seems just filler.
As a small sample of what I mean, while chasing the cat, Matt is thinking about things:
Her whole family was into raising and showing Persian cats. Me, I didn’t really know much about the whole cat show world. I didn’t want to get too involved. Like I said, I don’t do drama.
And let me tell you something about cat people. More specifically, cat show people.
Actually, never mind. Fuck those guys. All that’s important is Bea and Donut were a part of this whole world I didn’t want anything to do with.
I never considered myself a big fan of cats. But, if we’re being truthful here, I liked Donut. That cat did not give two shits about anybody or anything, and I could respect that. I Donut wanted to set on my lap while I was blasting away on Playstation, then she sat on my damn lap. If I tried to pick her up, she hissed and scratched and jumped right back up there. And then she looked at me with a squished face that said, what’re you gonna do about it?
I’d been tempted, more than once, to throttle the thing. But I’m not an asshole. Plus, I could respect the little monster’s tenacity. Some of my buddies would give me crap about it, me spending all this time with a fuzzy cat that was probably worth more than I would make in a year, but I enjoyed it. I enjoyed having that ball of fuzz sitting in my lap.
One of Beatrice’s ironclad, this-is-not-negotiable rules was no smoking in the apartment. So after our fight and breakup, I’d made a point of smoking as much as I could. I know, immature. But it was freezing outside.
It’s hard to explain, and this post is getting long, so maybe I’ll come revisit this down the road, but it has to do with the fundamental negativity and cynicism behind the character. He’s disaffected and doesn’t give a shit and likes that the cat is, too. Another quote I found expressive:
I had no idea what the word “mawkish” meant, but I assumed it translated to “cheesy.”
I find myself bemused and left cold by such ignorant fictional heroes. I find it hard to care much about what happens to them.
[As an aside, I do not understand educated people in “this day and age” who actually still smoke cigarettes. I’m not rabid about making them stop; I just can’t believe anyone in their right mind does it. But then I feel that way about a lot of things people do.]
The writing is in the easy-breezy colloquial style of a lot of modern writing. I do wonder a bit sometimes how well it will age (not so much is my guess). But the story was entertaining enough to keep me reading, and nothing really pissed me off, so I’ll see what the next one is like. Carl is just getting started on dungeon levels.
Oh, I forgot to mention: Princess Donut is taken by the system to be a game player and thus given intelligence and the power of speech, so part of the fun is that Carl is running around with a smartass talking cat.
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Stay safe, my friends! Go forth and spread beauty and light.
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