Review of Darwin's Blade by Dan Simmons

For whatever the reason, despite not having any sort of personal relationship, we readers feel a touch of sadness when a writer we enjoy, passes. Dan Simmons took his pie to the sky in early 2026 and in tribute, I decided to dust off a novel of his I've had on the shelf for more than a decade, Darwin's Blade (2000).

Simmons has written—sorry, I must adjust my grammar going forward. Simmons wrote in a wide variety of genres, including space opera, fantasy, historical fiction, science fiction, horror, and neo noir. Darwin's Blade is yet another: straight-forward action/thriller.

Front and center is Darwin Minor, a Vietnam vet who, after the war, has made a name for himself as the best accident reconstructionist in southern California. Running a private business, he uses knowledge of physics and the latest computing tools to help the police and victims identify what really happened at accident scenes. It's business as usual until somebody tries to kill Darwin as he drives home from an accident scene. Next thing he knows, a statewide investigation is underway for fraudsters staging accidents for insurance claims. That proves to be just the tip of the criminal iceberg.

Review of The Promise of Space and Other Stories by James Patrick Kelly

Science fiction, like so many cultural mediums, has exploded in content the past couple of decades. Gone are the days when a fan can read, or at least be aware of, the key writers in the genre. James Patrick Kelly was once one such writer. Most sf readers knew of his stories and style, and many were reading him. With the swamp—ahem, milieu—of genre fiction rolling in the mud today, JPK has been pushed to the reedy fringes, unfortunately. Unfortunate because, he only continues to improve and mature. Living proof is the 2018 collection The Promise of Space and Other Stories.

The collection starts off with the title story and features a relationship as only the near future can hold. A science fiction writer talks with the AI memories of her dead astronaut boyfriend who died on a Mars mission. The story is entirely dialogue, and Kelly paints their relationship with a gray brush, making for rereadable content. The next story, “The Chimp of the Popes” is an homage to Robert Silverberg. Humans have transcended to the Cognisphere, leaving bots and uplifted chimps to rule Earth. A handful of humans remain in stasis, however, and at the beginning of the story one is unthawed who claims to be the pope. The chimps put him with the other unthawed popes. But this new pope has a little extra kick, eventually forcing the chimps to discover the reality of the cognisphere.

Review of The Compelled by Adam Roberts

For those paying attention, this site does not review graphic novels. The reason is simple. I don't read them. I'm dimly aware that graphic novels have evolved beyond their comic book roots the past several decades, and if I did the research, would likely find material the adult mind can grapple with. But one can only have so much on their plate. I did notice, however, Adam Roberts' pairing with artist Francois Schuiten in 2020 for the “graphic novel” The Compelled (more on the quotation marks later), and decided to have a gander.

The Compelled is a novella featuring multiple point-of-view characters that has a definitive artsy nature to its premise and mode. It's set in the present day after a small percentage of the population suddenly becomes 'compelled', that is, they pick up random objects, bring them to different places, and hodge-podge them into improvised structures and compositions. There is no explanation. Feeling compelled is a subconscious thing. A person just gets the feeling they need to go to their neighbor's house, take a lawn chair, and bring it to the town square where a giant sphere of objects is slowly taking shape. As a result, the urban landscape is evolving. New constructions and artifacts are taking shape while existing buildings, homes, and places are being slowly cannibalized.

Review of Brooklyn Crime Novel by Jonathen Lethem

Motherless Brooklyn and Fortress of Solitude are often cited as Jonathan Lethem's best novels. And reasonably so. Motherless is subtle neo-noir with a main character that leaves an impression beyond quirks of personality. Also set in NYC, Fortress is a coming-of-age tale that slips in and out of super-hero fantasy in nostalgic yet socially relevant terms. One might assume a Lethem novel titled Brooklyn Crime Novel (2023) would be in an similar vein. It is, and yet it definitively isn't.

Brooklyn Crime Novel, while not entirely plotless, operates in a mode that feels more like a series of historical vignettes. If it weren't for Lethem's singular diction, the emotion-less presentation of events could have had a textbook feel. By shifting points of view, the book relates the lives of a handful of children, of all shapes, sizes, and colors, growing up in the late 60s and 70s during the gentrification of Brooklyn. None of the children are given names. Instead, they are given identifiers—screamer, millionaire's son, board game boy, slipper, etc., which adds to the distance between reader and character. Their individual stories have arcs, but they are flat, short, and focused on the quotidian details of their lives as they link to Lethem's theme.

Review of Livesuit by James S.A. Corey

Ty Franck and Daniel Abraham (James S.A. Corey) frequently took side trips writing the nine-volume Expanse series. They released bits of short fiction every year or two to fill holes and complete the tableaux of the series' storyline. Enough short stories produced, in fact, a tenth and final volume was eventually released, a collection. While I don't expect the planned three volumes The Captive's War trilogy to generate the same amount of short fiction, the duo nevertheless continue the practice, releasing the intriguingly incongruous tie-in novella Livesuit in 2024.

Livesuit is the story of Kieran, leader of a team of soldiers battling against the galaxy-dominating Carryx. The team is a specially selected squad, each of which wears an expensive, difficult-to-manufacture skinsuit that keeps them alive in battle and maintains their bodily functions in normal life. In the early going, Kieran's leg is crushed in a trap, but the suit keeps his leg intact and his body upright throughout the remaining fight. And resilience is needed as the team have a difficult mission: to infiltrate a prison and rescue the humans held captive.

Cardboard Corner: Review of Hive

Do you like Chess or Go but don’t like the commitment—the weight of tackling brain burning hours of iterating if/then scenarios? Do you think the idea of kings and queens, soldiers and knights on a battlefield is a hoary, outdated notion? Or maybe, you think the idea of a grid is too limiting? <cue salesman voice> Well then, do we have a game for you! Hive (2000)!!

A tight-tight package, Hive is an abstract strategy game for two players that plays out in half the time of chess, and in significantly less time than go. Combining elements of both those games and simplifying them, players take turns laying hexagonal pieces in hive formation in attempt to surround their opponent’s queen. The game is insect-themed, meaning it is in fact a queen bee.

Like chess and go, Hive features black and white sides, with each side having the same pieces and starting conditions. Like chess specifically, each type of piece in Hive has its own unique move set (more in a moment), but unlike chess they do not start on the board in ready position. More like go, Hive’s “board” begins empty. I put “board” in quotes given Hive has no board. Any small, flat space will do—even airplane trays. The board creates itself as players lay pieces, making for an open, evolving experience.