Grāmatiņa interesanta. Scalzi tviterī bija pielikonta autora eseja par gavlenajām otrās daļas tēmām, un links uz galvenajām idejām par dažus gadus vecāko pirmo daļu ar. Scalzi rekomendēts cyberpunk, what's not to like? Vāka bildi nelikšu, jo šī ir kārtējā reize, kur redzot vāku, to grāmatu rokās negribētu ņemt. (GrrM Dying of the Lihgt? Lukjaņenko DEEP? Ja godīgi ir kāda ne P.K.Dick uz šo žanru attiecināma grāmata, kurai nav atbaidošs vāka noformējums? Precisely. Atkārtotie izdevumi reizēm labo situāciju. Reizēm.)

Jessica Jones without superpowers. Neuromancers, bet ar fokusu uz Molliju, ne Keisu. Kaut kā tā.

Daļa ideju sasaucas ar tieši tām lietām, kas tracināja Ancillary sērijā, tikai neprasiet precīzi nodefinēt - tas vairāk sajūtu līmenī.

Īsi sakot - ko tur daudz - te linki uz augstāk minētajām esejām, tās bija vairāk kā pietiekošas, lai šo vajadzētu mēģināt izlasīt.

Warning: foul language?

https://whatever.scalzi.com/2016/09/09/the-big-idea-k-c-alexander/
https://whatever.scalzi.com/2017/11/14/the-big-idea-k-c-alexander-2/


Un mazliet koncentrēta kopsavilkuma no esejām zemāk:

I don’t like boxes. And neither does Necrotech’s protagonist—a type of woman whole sub-sections of societally-minded folk remind us don’t and shouldn’t exist.

Riko is a splatter specialist (that’s Tarantino level of gory mess, in case the title wasn’t clear) with all the agency of a man—and in being this, she tests the boundaries of what a woman in a book is supposed to be in this enlightened age of women’s rights. She is not soft. She is not tender. She would prefer to put a boot in your teeth instead of “work it out”, she lacks all maternal instinct, and her flaws are loaded for bear. With all the swag of a street thug, a policy of pleasing herself first, and a piss-poor temperament for emotions, she’s nobody’s idea of a good girlfriend.

She tends to somewhat proudly think of herself as a bad boyfriend.

Too straight for queer and too queer for straight.

Body too feminine for masculine respect and a mind too masculine for feminine acceptance.

Maybe much is fluff—albeit fluff made from shattered glass and razor blades. Maybe the scope of Necrotech is bigger than one woman, one Idea. Anyone reading it might think that the real Idea is one of humanity’s obsession with technology, with its own limitations, with the need to breed and squat and defile, or that it’s about our need to feel as if every day is an achievement, encouraged by apps that give gold stars every few moments for every step. [..]That's ok.


One day something happens, something breaks, and if you’re lucky, you surface from that sleepwalking hell into the stark, cold, terrifying reality: you are not the person you thought you were. You aren’t even in the same dimension.

And you aren’t worthy of anything better.

I wish I was Riko. (A smooth shift back onto the main road!) Riko’s coping mechanisms, while unhealthy, are so much easier for me to understand. What I’d give to be able to channel all this bottled in rage and fear and shame and explode it all over some motherfuckers what need educating. I have a list. I’d feel so much better if I could just tick off each line, one by one. “Exploded, bloodied, broken, dead.”

I announce for the cheap seats: I am a struggling buddhist.

(Spoiler alert: there is blood. So, so much blood. And fleshy, wobbly bits, mostly unattached).

~K.C.Alexander