An unearthly green beam snatches a husband, wife, and a common thug from a subway platform and transports them to a world so ghastly with creatures so horrible that they can only have names at the end of the alphabet. Faced with intergalactic evil and a friend's treachery, how can they ever survive the planet of the purple suns?
Well, it's science fiction in that any science in it is fictional--made up. The characters are all straight out of the box, with no additives. I didn't fall asleep, and the thug\'s vernacular was amusing.
A ripping adventure tale of two men shrunk to a quarter of an inch high using Element 85 (don't ask--look it up) who infiltrate a termite's nest, just for a look around. No women, they would just get in the way, only men, doing man stuff.
Although the characters are supposed to have opposite personalities, they blur together once the adrenalin flows, and I couldn't keep the entomologist straight from the adventurer.
Oddly, this would be a better story set on another planet, without the shrinking ray, and with a hive-society of aliens. The hive brain would not seem so outlandish. Still, for a pulp story it's pretty engrossing.
At the turn of the 20th century an old bachelor is getting tired. Visiting the mansion of friends, he is put off by the youth and vitality of the gathering, and takes a walk. He discovers an enclosed garden and an older woman making mayonnaise. She turns out to be an old schoolfriend from 36 years before.
A simple and charming story, with the sedate characters of the bachelor and the sister contrasting nicely with the excitement of the society people.
A good story for a rainy night.
An okay early novel by a good writer. Because of the Fitzgerald Time Contraction at near-light speeds, Spacers age very, very slowly compared to Earthlings. A 17 year old Spacer could be a thousand Earth years old.
Alan's twin brother jumped ship and stayed on Earth six weeks ago, and now would be 9 years older. As the Valhalla returns to Earth, Alan is determined to find his brother, if he can.
The main character is nicely obsessed, with one obsession following another. The veteran gambler is a good character--hard to pigeon-hole. Everyone else is pretty much sketched in enough to get them through the story. Theoretically, women exist in the book, but none are rude enough to intrude.
A strange story. The characterizations and subtle shadings of emotions are wonderfully real. But the narrator goes from having "feelings" about other people, to reading their minds, then to foreseeing the future. And science reanimates a dead woman.
The writing makes me want to read more Eliot, but the plot belongs with Stoker and Lovecraft. It is an occult horror story--a pity.
As the other reviewer said, the English of the translation is archaic, but I found puzzling it out rewarding. There is some real wit in the writing.
The first dialogue, between Cannius and the cyclops Poliphemus begins when Cannius can't believe the cyclops is carrying a New Testament. The conversation turns to how to tell a good Christian. By clothing? By church service? by actions?
The second dialogue, between Beatus (blessed--a rich man) and Bonifacius (a handsome man--bonny-face) concerns whether it's better to have a good name or the "talents" the name implies. It ranges widely over prejudice and hypocrisy, status and pretence.
The dialogues have observations worthy of Oscar Wilde, as well as puns, but it is hard to make out sometimes, as J is used as I, Y is used as I, I is used as J, and U is used as U and V.
They are a couple of lighthearted satires, nowhere near as serious as his Against War.
A rewriting of history. A group of telepaths walks a dangerous line between trying to stop the Inquisition trials and being exposed as wizards themselves.
The main character and the inquisitor are well-drawn, and the plot had me wondering what the plan was and how it could possibly succeed.
The writing is good, but it is a telepathy story . . . .
A book of essays. The first two are among the best things Twain wrote. What Is Man? (the essay) is the cynical and completely reasonable instruction of a young man by an old man. Man, he says, is completely unable to come up with an original thought or action, and his conscience is as learned as his prejudices. A number of modern philosophers cite the essay.
The second essay, The Death of Jean, was written Christmas Eve of 1909 with his daughter lying dead in the next room. It is very hard to read.
There are also accounts of two assassinations, trivial magazine articles, an appreciation of Switzerland, and one of William Dean Howells, a funny explanation of his learning to ride a pennyfarthing bicycle, and his contribution to exposing Shakespeare as a fraud.
Please read at least the first two essays.
Lisa Carr’s book reviews
Well, it's science fiction in that any science in it is fictional--made up. The characters are all straight out of the box, with no additives. I didn't fall asleep, and the thug\'s vernacular was amusing.
Although the characters are supposed to have opposite personalities, they blur together once the adrenalin flows, and I couldn't keep the entomologist straight from the adventurer.
Oddly, this would be a better story set on another planet, without the shrinking ray, and with a hive-society of aliens. The hive brain would not seem so outlandish. Still, for a pulp story it's pretty engrossing.
A simple and charming story, with the sedate characters of the bachelor and the sister contrasting nicely with the excitement of the society people.
A good story for a rainy night.
Alan's twin brother jumped ship and stayed on Earth six weeks ago, and now would be 9 years older. As the Valhalla returns to Earth, Alan is determined to find his brother, if he can.
The main character is nicely obsessed, with one obsession following another. The veteran gambler is a good character--hard to pigeon-hole. Everyone else is pretty much sketched in enough to get them through the story. Theoretically, women exist in the book, but none are rude enough to intrude.
The writing makes me want to read more Eliot, but the plot belongs with Stoker and Lovecraft. It is an occult horror story--a pity.
The first dialogue, between Cannius and the cyclops Poliphemus begins when Cannius can't believe the cyclops is carrying a New Testament. The conversation turns to how to tell a good Christian. By clothing? By church service? by actions?
The second dialogue, between Beatus (blessed--a rich man) and Bonifacius (a handsome man--bonny-face) concerns whether it's better to have a good name or the "talents" the name implies. It ranges widely over prejudice and hypocrisy, status and pretence.
The dialogues have observations worthy of Oscar Wilde, as well as puns, but it is hard to make out sometimes, as J is used as I, Y is used as I, I is used as J, and U is used as U and V.
They are a couple of lighthearted satires, nowhere near as serious as his Against War.
The main character and the inquisitor are well-drawn, and the plot had me wondering what the plan was and how it could possibly succeed.
The writing is good, but it is a telepathy story . . . .
The second essay, The Death of Jean, was written Christmas Eve of 1909 with his daughter lying dead in the next room. It is very hard to read.
There are also accounts of two assassinations, trivial magazine articles, an appreciation of Switzerland, and one of William Dean Howells, a funny explanation of his learning to ride a pennyfarthing bicycle, and his contribution to exposing Shakespeare as a fraud.
Please read at least the first two essays.