My rating: 4 of 5 stars
I kept looking for a climax. I kept expecting the story to coalesce. I kept expecting the meaningful and emotional events to happen in a timed structure that would reveal a pattern in what was going on. My expectations were silly.
When I was nearing the end of the novel, I remembered that Scalzi was attempting to write in the style of Heinlein when he wrote this. I remembered that he had been congratulated on multiple occasions for achieving that goal. And then I remembered the only Heinlein book I’ve ever read, The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress. I say again, my expectations were silly.
Once I abandoned them, I was able to look back on my reading and notice that I had enjoyed every minute of it. As a self-described grumpy old man, I related to John Perry, and cared about what he was going through as he adapted to his new life and new surroundings. When he got thrown across the mess hall by special forces, I couldn’t stop myself from muttering, “Rut roh, Shaggy.” I now intend to track down the sequels, devour them, and get them signed, in whichever order presents itself.
While I didn’t have any problems putting the book down, I greatly enjoyed the ride.