A Million Suns and Girl Scout Cookies

There’s a good chance that I’m going to die soon.

Okay, so it’s not that serious. I just have a cold, but it is an ornery one! After I got sent home from work today–sweating and hacking are not conducive to a productive workplace, apparently–I decided to flop on the couch, let my body rest, and finish A Million Suns, Beth Revis’s sequel to Across the Universe.

First off, let me rave about how diggety dope it is to get a regular old sci-fi story that’s written for a YA audience. It seems like every single YA sci-fi book out right now is an 80,000 word bummer fest about how the world totally sucks after the downfall of civilization. I’m crossing all my appendages and hoping that this year we’ll see more books like this.

Now to the book! There were a few major things that I couldn’t get down with–the kind that drag my disbelief down in deafening crash. The biggest gripe first: why did it seem like every single person on the whole frexing ship could easily gain access to the most sensitive sections onboard? Every time Amy was on the cryo level she seemed to be running into Orion’s creepy stalker/special lady. How does that happen? That chick was nuts, right? So why not restrict her access to the people Orion was so desperate to kill in the first book? Then there was the whole drama bomb of Amy withholding information from Elder about that psycho Luther, even after they found the dead girl in the field who’d obviously fallen victim to him. What the heezy was that sheezy? I understand that Amy is wicked traumatized by the whole event from book one but when Luther is going all psycho on the Feeders why doesn’t she fill Elder in on it until the book is almost over? I mean, she mentions a bunch of times that she knows Luther is evil as all get-out. She even gets the chuztpa to threaten his life! So why not fill her star-crossed lover in on the seriously relevant information about a serial rapist on the loose?

Some nuts and bolts stuff wore on me as well. Revis’s…overuse…of…ellipses…got super old, super quick. Seeing too many ellipses is annoying as it tends to yank me out of the story. I understand that the characters are conflicted–or maybe having a hard time completing full thoughts?–but there has got to be a better way of expressing it besides dumping trios of periods on every page.

So for me, Beth Revis’s new book inspires nothing little more than a, “meh,” albeit a positive one. I thought the book was pretty decent as far as the story went–good pacing, great suspense, witty dialogue–but the above gripes were more irritating than an Indian burn.

Ok, so enough talking about A Million Suns, and more talking about my new followers! I want to say thanks to SMS DesiRe and Mutterings and St-Stutterings for following my blog. Mutterings and St-Stutterings is a mother-effing HIGH-larious (read that word in your best Jayne Cobb voice) blog that is pretty much about nothing at all. Imagine an episode of Seinfeld but in blog form and you’ll get what I mean.

FYI: Samoas beat the crap out of Thin Mints eight days a week.

That’s it, everybody. Girl Scout cookie season started in western Washington today so I’m off to shovel a box of Samoas down my throat. They say, “Feed the Cold,” right? So that’s what I’m going to do–feed that slippery bastard until he can’t button his pants. That’ll show him.

[pretty picture from here]

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Space: The Silent Killer (Even if You’re Screaming)

All the hype around Beth Revis’s new book A Million Suns has got me thinking about more than just romantic space travels. See, I was reading Reddit the other day (don’t judge me, please!) and one Redditor posted a question about whether or not people would be willing to volunteer for a generational space flight to colonize a new planet. (For you n00bs who don’t know what a generational ship is all about, click here.)

My first response to the question would be, “NO EFFING WAY.” See, I’m not too keen on the idea of living out my days on a airtight tomb even if I would be remembered for all time as the awesome guy who volunteered to die in a box. Maybe that makes me a l4m3-o, but the thought of my descendants getting the sweet payoff for all my hard work really burns my cakes. I’m down for colonizing other planets, but not only if it means I get to be the one who sees Earth 2.

Are we there yet?

If you’ve read my blog before then you know that space terrifies me. It’s big, cold, and unable to convey the sounds waves produced by a shrieking human voice. However, I do like the idea of space travel. If someone could hook up a space ship with warp drives and replicators then I might be down for an interstellar excursion. I’d prefer there be force fields as well à la Star Trek just in case of a hull breach–you know, to keep the drafty vacuum of space from sucking my blood through my pores–but their absence wouldn’t be a total deal-breaker. Oh, and a holodeck for those moments when you get sick of contemplating your insignificance compared to the vast nothing of space. If you read Revis’s first book then you know that sort of thinking ends up in suicide by airlock.

So what would you do? Would you be the one raising your hand to go? Or would you be like me and try to dodge the get-shot-into-space bullet? Don’t be ashamed if you’re a chicken.

Actually, be a little ashamed.

[image from here]