Showing posts with label science-fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label science-fiction. Show all posts

Friday, January 16, 2026

REVIEW: "Platform Decay" by Martha Wells (5 stars)

Just over two years ago, I discovered — and promptly devoured — Martha Wells’ Murderbot Diaries. The series hooked me with its unusual protagonist: a part‑organic, part‑mechanical security construct who has hacked its governor module and claimed its own autonomy. Calling itself “Murderbot,” it’s a hyper‑competent multitasker who can monitor a dozen threats while binge‑watching future‑space telenovelas. As a relatively “new” human, Murderbot has a complicated relationship with emotions, and the series tracks its gradual, often funny, often touching evolution as it figures out what it means to be a person, make friends, and navigate feelings it never asked for. It’s no surprise that many readers see Murderbot as a stand‑in for teenagers, neurodivergent folks, or anyone who has ever felt out of sync with the world.

If you’re new to the series — or if you’ve only watched the Apple TV+ adaptation — there’s still time to catch up. At its core, Murderbot’s story is a sequence of adventures that double as a coming‑into‑personhood narrative. It has an intrinsic sense of fairness, a habit of pulling information from wildly diverse sources (especially pop culture), and a growing awareness of the political structures around it. One of the series’ ongoing themes is the tension between the hyper‑capitalist “Corporation Rim” and the more egalitarian societies struggling to exist outside its reach.

Platform Decay, the eighth installment, can absolutely stand alone. Wells gives new readers enough grounding to understand who Murderbot is, what it can do, and why its freedom is precarious.

This time, the action unfolds on a massive rotating space station shaped like a torus, orbiting a planet that has been strip‑mined into ruin. (If you’re not familiar with torus habitats, the Stanford Torus page on Wikipedia has great visuals.) The station itself is one of the book’s delights: Wells avoids the trap of “video‑game level design” by giving each subdivision its own history, socioeconomic profile, and architectural logic.

The plot centers on Murderbot and its fellow SecUnit, Three — a newer model who has been free for far less time — as they attempt to rescue their friends from Preservation. These friends, all brown and all from a non‑Rim world, have been illegally detained by Corporation operatives and are being processed for indentured servitude (or worse). The parallels to the past year of ICE overreach in the U.S. are unmistakable. Wells doesn’t soften the critique; she uses the sci‑fi frame to make the injustice sharper, not more distant.

While Murderbot can hack security systems, forge credentials, and erase itself from surveillance feeds without breaking a sweat, its real challenge is blending in. Much of the book’s humor comes from its attempts to navigate the crush of humanity on the torus, including installing movement‑assist modules so it can walk more like a natural‑born human. The resulting journey has a bit of Tintin energy — lots of transit systems, lots of motion, lots of chaotic detours — all described with Wells’ signature dry wit.

There’s plenty of action: rescuing friends, evading capture, investigating reports of a “rogue SecUnit” (which turns out to be Three making some questionable choices out of boredom), and dealing with wealthy, entitled kids who have turned piracy into a hobbyist “smash and grab.” Through it all, Murderbot remains Murderbot — trying to minimize harm when possible, but taking undeniable satisfaction in dealing decisively with people who insist on being terrible. At one point, it does all this with a kindergartener attached to it like a barnacle, which is exactly the kind of chaotic tenderness that makes this series work.

And ultimately, Platform Decay is less about whether Murderbot will succeed — long‑time readers know the mission will get done — and more about how it gets there. The pleasure of this installment is in the movement, the worldbuilding, the character beats, and the messy, funny, deeply human moments along the way. After so much fast‑paced action, the ending feels a bit anticlimactic, but that’s because the real payoff is the journey itself.

REVIEW: "Platform Decay" by Martha Wells

RATING: 5 stars

Thanks to TOR and NetGalley for the ARC. The book is due out in May 2026.

Monday, January 12, 2026

TIL: Anyone Can Vote in the Hugo Awards — Come Join Me in LA!

Every once in a while, you stumble across a piece of writing that completely changes how you see a community you’ve been part of for years. That happened to me this week when I read Molly Templeton’s fantastic Reactor column about the Hugo Awards and the World Science Fiction Convention (Worldcon).

Like a lot of lifelong SFF readers, I always assumed the Hugos were something distant—decided by insiders, professionals, or some mysterious academy. Molly’s piece made it crystal clear: anyone can nominate and vote in the Hugo Awards. All you have to do is become a supporting member of this year’s Worldcon. That’s it. No secret handshake. No gatekeeping. Just a $50 supporting membership and a love of science fiction and fantasy.

And honestly? I’m thrilled.

I immediately signed up for LACon V, this year’s Worldcon in Los Angeles, and that means I’m officially a Hugo Awards voter and nominator for 2026. I can’t wait to dive into the nomination process, explore new works, and participate in shaping the conversation around the genre I love.

If you’ve ever wanted a more direct way to support the books, stories, creators, and ideas that matter to you, this is it. The deadline to register as a supporting member is January 31, and Molly’s article walks through the whole process clearly and encouragingly.

Read Molly Templeton’s article here: https://reactormag.com/anyone-can-vote-in-the-hugo-awards-and-heres-how/

Register for LACon V (in person or supporting): https://www.lacon.org/register/

If you decide to join, let me know—I’d love to have more friends and fellow readers along for the ride (and not just literally - I'll be driving there from the SF Bay Area if you want to carpool). Whether you’re nominating novels, short fiction, podcasts, art, or dramatic presentations, your voice genuinely matters. A single nomination can make a difference.

See you (hopefully!) in LA—and in the Hugo voter packet.

Thursday, August 07, 2025

REVIEW: A Door Into Ocean (Elysium Cycle, #1) by Joan Slonczewski (4-stars)

 A Door Into Ocean is a dense but thought-provoking exploration of nonviolent resistance, ecological ethics, and the politics of identity. The Sharers of Shora represent a kind of “best case scenario” for a society built on consent, cooperation, and harmony with nature. Their refusal to engage in violence isn’t passive—it’s strategic, deeply philosophical, and rooted in a radically different understanding of life and death.

One of the most compelling aspects of the book is the subtle role of propaganda and bidirectional “othering.” The Valans arrive on Shora with rigid beliefs shaped by The Patriarch’s rule—beliefs about gender, reproduction, and social hierarchy (like the “stone sign” system). They question whether the Sharers are even human, while the Sharers grapple with the same question about the Valans. This mutual alienation underscores how deeply political systems shape perceptions of humanity.

Slonczewski also introduces fascinating technological metaphors: the Sharers’ gene-editing capabilities challenge conventional ideas of scientific authority, and the “Click Flies” and “webs” eerily anticipate modern social media and peer-to-peer activism—reminding me of movements like the Arab Spring.

While the themes are rich, the prose can be overwhelming. I often felt the book could have benefited from tighter editing. Still, the glimpses into the larger galactic strategy—like The Patriarch’s manipulation of planetary conflicts and his threat to destroy any planet that initiates genocide—add a layer of tension and scale that’s both chilling and intriguing.

© Jennifer R Clark. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. You may share and adapt this content with proper attribution.