Picked this up off of the bookshelf the other day. I'd never heard of this book before - and it's not at all what I expected from Orson Scott Card.
However, it is interesting so far. I'm on page 64. The government of the USA has been crippled by a terrorist attack. The President and VP have both been killed and a Special Ops soldier has been set up as the fall guy. He's the main character and so far he's still working from within the system. The situation is less than a day old.
Finished!
An interesting ending. The drama of the stolen stick was wrapped up satisfactorily. There is a hint at the resolution for the larger problems. The outcast has found his place and made his peace. Relationships have been forged. There was also a riot, a shootout, and a near death, just to keep th tension up.
Seems like there are other books in this universe. I don't feel compelled to go find them. But I would read them if I came across them.
Fletcher is finding his place and the plot is heating up, but what's this? A jarring error? Curses!
Finity's End is getting really good. I read this morning while my younger daughter was having a riding lesson, and now again by poolside while they both frolic. I'm currently on page 202 out of 564.
It was a bit slow at firat to get into this story, but now I'm really getting hooked. The main character, Fletcher, is on the merchant ship with his family now. He doesn't want to be there and they don't want him there either. He's working on making peace with his situation while a war story plays put in the background.
The characters are complex and believable; I can engage with them and care about what's happening with almost all of them. That's more than I can say for some books.
It's a beautiful morning and I'm sitting outside at a farm. The breezes are blowing, the birds and bugs are chittering, and there is a shady tree above me. And I'm reading about piracy and treaties and space. It's not quite working for me this morning.
I love sci-fi. If I were still reading the part where people were frolicking and playing on pollen in the halcyon days of young springtime it would be perfect.
Ah well. Page 29.
