Nothing indicated to me that this was a short story. Just when it got a bit interesting, it was over. It was okay for a short story.
The narrator sounded like he was nearly bored to death, or perhaps he was one of those drab old guys who might normally be an appliance repair man.
If you like mentally hopping around as if the menagerie of thoughts being portrayed were brief yelping moments on a bed of hot coals, Brin is your guy. Frenetic is the word. I saw this guy on the science channel, and thought well, he might be able to write a good story. Boy, was I wrong. The synopsis completely suckered me into thinking there was a story. That's the last time I'll trust one of those, I guess. I wish Arthur C. Clarke could have lived longer. I have only lost interest in one of his novels, and I've read about eighteen of them.
Only if someone I trusted told me that another book he wrote was worth it.
It wouldn't help.
I've never read "Stranger in a strange land" but after this book, I'm almost afraid to. This book was one of the worst SF books I've ever read. The characters are mostly idiot-morons, and the dialogue is elementary school level at best. I kept waiting for something interesting to happen, but it's all blunt violence and interminable, comatose drivel. Bleh!
All of them
One thing to note: I'm not a fan of military SF, and while this is not even in that class, I understand that Heinlein wrote in that genre. I like A.C. Clarke, Azimov, Bradbury, Alastair Reynolds, Poul Anderson, Vernor Vinge, Roger Zelany, to name a few.
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