The book finishes off the Jihad and tries hard to set the stage for the proper Dune novels by Frank Herbert.
As with the other collaborative novels by Brian Herbert and Kevin J .Anderson, it feels like Junior Dune or an episode of Star Trek Voyager. Brick's narration is perfect, he seems to have a personal investment in the Dune universe which comes out in his work - too bad he didn't have a better book to read.
The plot is kind of ham fisted. I guess I was hoping for something else, something that felt more like classic sf. I dont listen to modern sf and this work reinforces that tendency. There was little wonder, and little joy. It had fascinating bright spots but those would usually be ruined by some character emitting some crappy dialog and spoiling it.
Fountains of Paradise
OMG. I didnt even know Robinson was the narrator, this makes placing the blame much easier. The narration and the prose collude in a schleppy mess that sounds like old Woody Allen, if Woody Allen were a space faring Canadian gentile. There are moments of singing, and they are not nearly brief enough. The main character and narrator seemed smarmy to me. I dont know, if he had a English accent maybe I would have found the whole thing charming and Arthur Dent like.
I felt like it was a waste of time.
I am sure that there are legions of Robinson fans out there that appreciate his work. I am just not one of them.
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