A disappointing conclusion to a minor trilogy by Reynolds. Stuffed full of boring or annoying characters, dulled by long-winded step-by-step plotting, and rendered immediately forgettable by the squandering of its own mysteries. None of which is helped by its packaging up of a basic fact of life ( = the universe is meaningless and finite) as a much-talked-about plot device, The Terror. Douglas Adams did that much better - and much funnier - with his Total Perspective Vortex.
Despite the title, this blog has a low quotient of both strange news and plankton. In reality, this blog is simply a means for me to record my thoughts, musings and bitterness in a crisp ASCII format. I should confess, however, that I do have a professional connection to plankton ...
Tuesday, 21 February 2017
Friday, 3 February 2017
The Twentieth Day Of January
The Twentieth Day Of January, Ted Allbeury
A trashy - but surprisingly Trump-prescient - 1980s spy thriller. Eminently quotable at the moment - though, compared to the book, the ending in reality is proving a lot less satisfying ...