Critical Myth-Interpretations

While I certainly enjoy the long-form series of Star Wars novels, such as the recently concluded “Fate of the Jedi”, I do think there needs to be a balance. Much like the Star Trek novels, there’s room for continuity-laden continuations of the main timeline/narrative, and stand-alone novels set during a particular period or time. When there are massive events taking place in the galaxy, one would expect that the consequences and shifts in the status quo will have a ripple effect on the smaller scale.

The recent novels by Paul Kemp have shown that the smaller scale approach has its place, and this stand-alone effort by Jeff Grubb follows a similar strategy. In keeping with the recent releases spinning out of the Old Republic MMO, this novel is based on a role-playing module centered on the Hutts and an unusual Jedi named Mander Zuma.

Unlike many of the typical Jedi heroes, Zuma is primarily an archivist. In other words, a glorified librarian. An archivist who has undergone Jedi combat training, to be sure, but still, not one of the front line Jedi that we’re used to seeing. And since this is set between the founding of the Jedi Academy and the arrival of the Yuuzhan Vong, it’s not a period when every Jedi would be tasked with preparing for civilization-ending conflicts. Zuma definitely comes across as the kind of Jedi that has heard a lot about the galaxy, but hasn’t quite experienced it for himself yet.

Zuma’s apprentice dies under questionable circumstances, which leads Zuma on a hunt for the truth behind a particularly nasty kind of potent spice and the Hutts that produce and distribute it. Very quickly, the novel turns into the Star Wars version of “The Godfather”, which is far more interesting than one would initially think. Hutt family politics are far from cordial, and Zuma finds himself in hot water time and again.

The plot never stalls, and the character interactions are top notch. Zuma is a fully fledged character with a solid support team in Reen (his apprentice’s sister) and Eddey (a deceptively quiet Bothan). The Hutts are surprisingly unique, despite being saddled with the typical Star Wars homogenous species stereotype.

Grubb includes a character from the Corporate Sector Authority, which I barely remember from those early Brian Daley novels. While the character added a nice bit of complication to the story, in terms of the challenges that Zuma had to overcome to resolve the Tempest situation, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was forgetting details of those earlier appearances of the CSA that might have added another layer to the story. I don’t believe so, since the author placed the organization in context, but the thought did occur.

I was also a bit disappointed in the resolution of the central mystery. Perhaps it’s just from reading/watching too many stories of this type over the years, but I figured out who the Spice Lord was relatively early in the proceedings. It didn’t necessarily take away from the ending very much, since events flow very quickly towards the end, but like any mystery, certain things seem perfunctory once you’ve figured out what the characters still don’t know.

All told, though, it was a very quick and pleasant read. For a tale that features none of the characters familiar to most Star Wars fans, takes place in a very small subset of the overall Star Wars universe, and focuses on implementation of a specific fictional sub-genre, it is very accessible.

Anyone picking this up should be prepared to accept that the size of the book is not indicative of the size of the story; as per the current PR push, there is a substantial amount of preview/sampler material in the back of the book. My digital version ended at a little over 60%, so adjust expectations accordingly.

“Apart (of Me): Part II”

Script: Andrew Chambliss and Scott Allie
Pencils: Cliff Richards
Inks: Andy Owens

Our review for the previous issue was somewhat controversial, if largely due to confusion over some of the story elements. Now that we’re further into “Apart (of Me)”, I think I understand why there was so much confusion. Trying to make sense of Andrew’s plan is enough to make one’s head spin. That it still feels like the writers aren’t entirely clear on the boundaries and overlap between the BuffyBot and the real Buffy doesn’t help matters at all.

Regardless, this issue tackles exactly what it should: the question of agency. Some have criticized Buffy’s choices that led into the circumstances of Andrew’s plan; after all, taken on its own, Buffy believed that she got blackout drunk and wound up pregnant. How, then, can she complain that she was drugged and “helped” by Andrew, when he was just doing what he thought best?

The difference is simply this: Buffy made the conscious choice to drink that much and lose herself in the party, even if it was for some questionable reasons. And whatever one may think of her choices in the days after, she was willing to own those choices. She retained her agency. Andrew, on the other hand, acted without Buffy’s full consent, and thus robbed her of the choice of being placed in her current position(s).

I love how she calls him out on it. Andrew may see himself as reformed, but Buffy is right: he’s still trying to be the mastermind and measure up to Warren from his days with the Evil Trio. There’s no telling how well Andrew will understand the lessons he’s supposed to be learning; after all, he thought he was already done getting his head in the right direction. But the seeds of his villainy are still there, in the notion that he knows what’s best for Buffy, and acts on it without consulting her. (Shades of “Serenity” and one of Joss’ favorite go-to messages.)

Meanwhile, they need to deal with he flaws in Andrew’s plans, since Simone has taken the real Buffy captive. This is where things get confusing. The real Buffy seems to have some personality traits that have been retained, but most of her memories and the Slayer portions are resident in the BuffyBot. But as the end of the issue demonstrates, the lines aren’t necessarily all that well defined. The blurring of the edges may be purely intentional, but I think it makes the story seem muddled. Never mind that the two are also deviating from the common starting material!

The Xander/Dawn subplot still feels a bit tacked-on, although it is keeping some of the narrative balls up in the air. Xander seems to be weighed down by this entire situation, and it doesn’t look like Dawn is going to be easy to deal with when this whole split-Buffy situation is resolved. It’s hard to speak much about the rest of their plot thread, though, because it just isn’t very involving, despite the attempt to delve into the psychological aspects of vampire hunting. I keep wanting to skim past it to get to the Buffy side of the story.

I still like the art by Cliff Richards a bit more than Jeanty’s, though I think at times the characters don’t quite look like their usual selves. Granted, they also don’t look like they’re trapped in perpetual tween bodies, either, so that’s a plus. I would still love to see Rebekah Isaacs take a turn at the “Buffy” characters, though, given her solid work on “Angel and Faith”.

In the early days of Star Trek literature, particularly during the era of the Original Series film franchise, many of the novels co-existed in a semi-shared universe. There was a lot of time and effort spent between various authors and editorial to use the same set of minor characters, cross-reference, and follow roughly the same timeline. (Something far from established, in terms of the period between the first and second films.) In some cases, the novels also managed to tie into episodes from the Original Series, or base themselves in references from the episodes. But above all, the novels were self-contained, so prior knowledge of those other novels wasn’t necessary. It just added another layer to the mix.

I mention this because this novel feels like an intentional throwback to those days, and in all the right ways. Elements are derived from the details of the Original Series episode “That Which Survives”, in terms of the technology of the Kalandans, and “The Galileo Seven”, in terms of the character of Boma. The general premise is a Federation vessel that has crashed after passing through a mysterious rift in space, which is also vital to a planet’s ability to gain critical resources when the rift intermittently opens.

The crash leaves few survivors, and they rely upon the good graces of the Dolysians, who had not been exposed to visitors from other worlds prior to this incident. A good amount of the book is devoted to the crew of the Enterprise helping with the recovery of Starfleet assets while working with the Dolysians, in classic Trek fashion. And of course, digging into the reason why there was a crash in the first place.

Things are complicated by the arrival of some Romulans, at which point the novel also becomes a bit of a follow-up to the events of “The Enterprise Incident”. Since the events of the novel are supposed to take place in the fourth year of the original five-year mission, the tensions from the theft of the cloaking device a year previously are still present. The author spends considerable time on each side of the rift, and on each side of the inevitable conflict, before things erupt at the worst possible time.

The author clearly knows his Original Series Trek, and not just in terms of the continuity elements. The characterizations are spot-on, and one can easily imagine this adventure taking place in a theoretical fourth season of the Original Series. Given how few novels are coming out each year, and the sheer number of ongoing series to juggle and keep up with, it’s nice to be able to sit back with a stand-alone tale that doesn’t require a familiarity with years worth of previous novel continuity.

This novel brings the nine-volume “Fate of the Jedi” arc to its conclusion; at least, that’s the anticipated goal of the narrative. With so many plot threads waiting for resolution, there’s a reason why this is the thickest Star Wars novel in quite some time.

Unlike the “Legacy of the Force” arc, which was hobbled by an inexplicable decision to retread the prequels with the rise and fall of Jacen Solo/Darth Caedus, this series was all about dealing with the consequences of the Second Galactic Civil War and setting the stage for what the Jedi Order must become in the wake of so much turmoil and personal loss.

The main villain is Abeloth, a creature that is so powerful and overwhelming that she doesn’t quite seem to fit in the Star Wars universe. There’s also the Lost Tribe of the Sith, which at this point has chosen to follow Abeloth and wrest control of the Alliance and its capital planet Coruscant. The Sith are maneuvered into concentrating themselves within the confines of the Jedi Temple, and so a large part of the book is dedicated to the grueling battle to deal with Abeloth and the Sith, once and for all.

Denning has shown a capacity for delivering truly brutal ground combat scenes, and that hasn’t changed. When it comes to the personal cost of a physical contest, it doesn’t get much more graphic or honest than this. Denning does a nice job of pushing the reader right to the edge, where you almost can’t bear to see the characters suffer much more. Yet you keep turning the page, because he’s also shown the ability to kill established characters without pause.

This novel also brings the relationship between Ben and Vestara to a somewhat logical breaking point, leaving both of them to pursue future paths that will certainly intersect. Denning has to work overtime to correct the egregious mistakes made in the previous volume, where Vestara’s supposed conversion to the Jedi was so heavy-handed and ham-fisted that it never felt remotely plausible.

Even so, one problematic element of the story is Vestara’s supposed “betrayal”. Even though we get insight into her thought process, I found it difficult to believe that Vestara wouldn’t consider other options when the moment comes. Several of them came to mind immediately. In the end, it’s hard to believe that Vestara is the one that reveals to the Sith the identity of the “Jedi Queen”, because so many people know about Allana’s true lineage by this point that Abeloth should have been able to discern it, and inform the Sith to fuel the conflict she desires, well before this point.

The other problematic element to the novel is that it really isn’t much of a conclusion. It simply brings the story to a relative transition point. Abeloth’s defeat is immediately branded as temporary, the revision of the Sith from the Rule of Two silliness to a much larger threat merely transforms from the Lost Tribe to something else, and the Jedi Order is really no more conclusively established within the realm of the Alliance than before. Beyond the cataclysmic destruction on Coruscant, which recalls the end of the New Jedi Order saga, it’s little more than rearrangement of the same pieces on the same board.

Neither problem is necessarily Denning’s doing. He is constrained by the larger goals of the novels and the established continuity. The applicability of the “Legacy” comics, for example, has never been entirely clear to me, since they show a rather dark future, but it seems that the novels since the end of the New Jedi Order have been designed to lead to that general continuity. As a result, anyone not familiar with that material may find it a bit of a cheat when elements through the past two novel “events” turn out to be a prelude to what happens in those comics, right down to Vestara’s eventual fate.

What isn’t clear is whether or not it was always intended that Abeloth’s origin story would tie into something from the “Clone Wars” animated series. Insertion of “Clone Wars” continuity has been problematic throughout this saga, because the writers tend to run roughshod over what has been previously established, forcing the writers of the EU to change course. The “Mortis Trilogy” episodes, which factor heavily into this novel, didn’t air until 2011, well after the “Fate of the Jedi” books began. Unless there was a significant effort to communicate and align story elements, that suggests a change in the intentions for the novels in mid-stream, which may explain why all of this feels like a somewhat inconsistent fit.

It also doesn’t help that the future of the novels is somewhat murky at this point. Without a clear sense of direction on how or when the open plot elements from this saga will be addressed, or perhaps further linked to the “Legacy” material, it’s hard not to feel like this leaves things relatively incomplete. Granted, that may always be the case, given the nature of the beast, but I think a more definitive conclusion was in order for the culmination of a nine-novel epic.

It bears repeating that much of this may be outside of Denning’s control, and regardless of all of that problematic context, it must be said that this is a solid entry in the Star Wars novel sequence. Recommendations are unnecessary for those who are already rabid fans of the EU and eager to devour each new volume, but it should be noted that Denning manages to make the best of the position he finds himself in, delivering a solid and enjoyable read.

“Apart (Of Me): Part I”

Written by Andrew Chambliss and Scott Allie
Art by Cliff Richards and Andy Owens

*****

Editor’s note: The difficulty in bringing in new voices to a site is sometimes running into issues where a reviewer simply gets things wrong. In this case, I had been up to speed on previous issues before the reviews were written, so I took note of the fact that the information was correct and had no reason to suspect that this review would be any different. Having seen some of the comments, I caught up with the issue and agree that some of the events, largely the contention that Andrew and Spike were working together and that Buffy was trying to lead a normal life vs. living in safe (or, as it turns out, not-so-safe) house, are incorrectly described. I would refer to the comments below for clarification; they cover the bases.

Back to the regularly scheduled madness.

*****

After veering into some rather controversial territory, making Buffy pregnant from a drunken one-night stand and choosing abortion after much self-reflection, it wasn’t entirely clear where the writers were going to go. I think it’s safe to say that few readers would have guessed at this “solution”, and the fairly negative reaction to this issue is a natural result.

Scott Allie takes the driver’s seat for a good chunk of the story, perhaps in the hopes that a massive amount of exposition will smooth over the rough edges and make the BuffyBot plot twist more acceptable. I’ll give him this much: they really try hard to make sense of it. But fundamentally, it just doesn’t ring true.

Let’s start with the revelation that Andrew concocted a plot to give Buffy a chance to escape her Slayer life and slip into a mundane existence, as a means of protection. While there’s plenty of motivation for Buffy to do this, after the various events of the past decade, I don’t quite buy the notion that Andrew would be capable of doing all of this, even with Warren’s old tech in hand.

The real problem is the writers’ attempt to have their cake and eat it, too. The whole conceit is that the BuffyBot is a perfect copy of Buffy’s mind. As a result, when a biochemical glitch makes it seem like she is pregnant, a huge stretch by any measure, the notion is that BuffyBot’s reactions are precisely what Buffy would think and do in the same situation.

Only, it wasn’t ever Buffy. Buffy never actually has to contemplate that situation and make that choice. For that matter, it’s hard to imagine that Spike wouldn’t have recognized that he was dealing with a robot and still have the same reactions that he’s had since Issue #6. Granted, the extent of those enhanced vampire senses has been wibbly-wobbly since the start, but how long could it really have taken him to realize something was wrong? So while it may have seemed like a valid way to explore those concepts within the context of Buffy’s status quo, it’s all just a big “what if”, poorly wrapped with a BuffyBot bow.

I’m well aware of the fact that I’m in the minority when it comes to Georges Jeanty’s art; I just find his depictions of young adults (now pushing into their mid-20s, in many cases) a bit too juvenile. Buffy, Willow, and even Dawn should look like adults, not teenagers. Cliff Richards strikes me as being a lot closer to the exceptional work by Rebekah Issacs on “Angel and Faith”, and so I enjoy it for that alone.

This being the first part of a multi-issue arc, there’s still time for the story to turn around in a direction that will resolve some of the immediate problems. I’m just not sure that it will be enough to resolve the fundamental weaknesses along the way.

As I continue to catch up with “The Wheel of Time” in preparation for the publication of the final volume in 2013, I’ve finally gotten to what many refer to as the “finale trilogy”. As legend has it, the final three books in the series have been written by Brandon Sanderson based on the notes and material that Robert Jordan had made for his intended twelfth and final volume.

Considering that Jordan was intent on releasing just one more volume, even if it was 1500 pages long, I don’t see this as a mercenary action by his estate, Sanderson, or the publisher. Frankly, as detailed and relatively drawn out as most of the previous volumes were, I don’t see how this could have been handled with much of a lower page count. At least, not without rushing things and compromising the overall integrity of the saga.

This novel picks right up after the events of “Knife of Dreams”, and essentially picks up the major plot threads that needed to be addressed first and foremost: the situation with the Aes Sedai and Egwene al’vere, and Rand al’Thor’s personal and martial crises. While there are other plot threads to be resolved still, getting those characters and situations to a certain stable point was necessary before they could be interwoven into the rest of the mix. Sanderson makes a solid effort of making sure that the other threads are kept afloat, rather than letting them drop completely.

It’s been said many times that the pace of this novel is faster, but that’s all relative. I don’t think it’s that much faster than “Knife of Dreams”, but to be fair, that book hit the accelerator on the story after a few volumes that seemed stuck in first gear. What may give that impression is Sanderson’s writing style, which is less affected than Jordan’s style, overall. The result is a somewhat easier read, and there’s seldom a chapter that doesn’t have a distinct point to it. While I’m sure that the styles can be compared and contrasted in great detail, as a reader, they were similar enough that it didn’t feel at all jarring. (Compare that to the “Dune” novels, where the differences between Frank Herbert and Brian Herbert/Kevin J. Anderson are legion. Never mind quality.)

Egwene’s plot/character arc has been moving towards a rather obvious conclusion for quite some time, and at the start of the novel, there’s really no question where it’s going to go. It’s simply a joy to see it all unfold, as plot points from several earlier novels are resolved. I never felt like Sanderson was trying to force the story or make it too easy on Egwene; if anything, wrapping up the various dangling threads regarding the Aes Sedai meant it was a grueling journey to victory. Even so, as I said, it was a resolution that was fairly easy to predict, even from the start, so it didn’t offer too many surprises.

In contrast, Rand’s downward spiral made it seem like there was going to be little hope of redemption or positive resolution. In fact, about halfway through the book, I was wondering how in the world there could be two more books, given how quickly Rand was falling apart at the seams! By the time the very end of the book came, and Rand’s status was dramatically turned on its head, I was floored. In retrospect, it makes a lot of sense, and even harkens right back to the start of his “madness” and how it was introduced, but it wasn’t something that I would have predicted at all.

Usually, the presence of a major story arc with built-in predictability would be a problem for a novel. However, this is simply the result of proper story development and ample foreshadowing, strewn throughout the Jordan novels, allowing Sanderson to deliver a proper resolution. With two more volumes to go, and plenty left to bring to a conclusion, I’m more than pleased to know the saga’s final stretch is in very good hands.

Written by Andrew Chambliss
Art: Georges Jeanty

The previous issue of “Buffy: Season 9” was probably one of the most controversial stories in the Whedonverse. Buffy came to a very difficult decision, and one that would likely put her at odds with most (if not all) of her friends. At least, that’s how she sees it, because she decide that her only real option is to remove herself from her world and reside with Spike. Who, of course, is more than willing to let it happen.

A good part of the issue is devoted to another examination of the relationship between Buffy and Spike. It was covered in relatively good detail throughout the sixth and seventh seasons of the television series, but things have changed for both of them in the intervening years. Buffy went through a lot in the eighth season (the whole Twilight debacle, for example), while Spike went through the fifth season of “Angel”, the Fall, and the subsequent fallout.

Even so, it still boils down to the same basic dynamic. Buffy retains enough of her self-absorption to see Spike as little more than a safe place to land when she’s indulging in her inner darkness. Spike, having gone to hell and back with a picture of Buffy taped to the inside of his locker, doesn’t want Buffy on those terms, and that makes him want to get violent. They’re never really close to the necessary middle ground needed to make being roomies a viable long-term plan.

Just that material would have been enough. And when it comes down to Buffy leaping into overwhelming odds despite Spike’s warning to hang back, I was prepared for the inevitable gut wound that would allow Buffy her internal choice without actually going so far as Spike taking her to the clinic in Issue #10.

And then the twist happened.

I’m the first to admit that the writers have earned the benefit of the doubt, and until this all plays out, it’s not fair to say that they dropped the ball. But this reveal is a huge gamble. For one thing, how long has it been going on? Was the switch before or after the pregnancy test, or perhaps even earlier? Wouldn’t Spike have noticed before this, given his vampiric senses? If this is fumbled, it could derail Season 9 completely, and that’s the biggest cause for concern.

I had been well and truly warned that this was going to be the kind of series that made you despair for each and every character, even the ones universally hated, but I’m not sure that any warning is sufficient. Things fall apart quickly in this volume, following on the precipitous heels of “A Game of Thrones”, and one never gets the sense that things are coming to a reasonable pause.

In fact, one could be forgiven if they thought that their version of the book was incomplete, considering how it ends. The downward spiral of circumstances in Westeros is clearly going to continue, and none of the characters are really left on solid footing. Since every chapter leaves the reader in suspense in some fashion or another, and there are a ton of rotating viewpoint characters, it constantly feels like the other show is going to drop. It’s a thrilling, if exhausting, reading experience. (And no, the chapters aren’t three pages long, so the suspense is not artificially generated, as with James Patterson or Dan Brown fare.)

One very nice touch is that the relatively simple status quo at the end of “A Game of Thrones” is rendered even more complicated by the addition of a few more potential kings. This means that none of the characters are safe, and none of the assumptions about seats of power can be taken for granted. Even so, one might be tempted to think that situations might play out in somewhat predictable directions, to make the complexity more palatable. On the contrary, many situations that seemed “obvious” are quickly undercut.

I found myself constantly rethinking my expectations and assumptions about where the story would go next. There was only one exception, where it seemed like the apparent fate of certain characters felt a little too conveniently handled “off-screen”, so to speak, to be believed. But even then, the matter is left in doubt just long enough for me to be unsure, as other events of equal import seemed to happen in passing, as the pacing escalated.

The end result is a book that literally will keep you up at night, as you devour as many chapters as you can psychologically stand, and then as you absorb just what has happened to your favorite characters. And a book that will make you compulsively reach for the next volume as soon as possible.

Bringing the “Stargate Atlantis: Legacy” series to its midpoint, “Allegiance” focuses on the consequences of failing to rescue Rodney McKay from the clutches of the Wraith. Since Rodney has been altered into a Wraith himself, thanks to a spin on the same retrovirus that turned one of the Wraith into “Michael” during the television series, this is a very bad thing for the Lanteans.

Much like the first two books, there is a liberal mixture of plot advancement and character beats, though this volume falls a bit more towards the character-centric side of the equation. This is actually a good thing. The strength of the post-finale novel series has been the excellent characterization. All of the familiar characters sound and act the way they should. Considering that I haven’t watched the show since it went off the air a few years ago, the fact that the writers could make the characters feel so alive again is a testimony to their talent.

The plot moves forward in a semi-predictable fashion. McKay’s knowledge of Atlantis is used against them, and the Lanteans must scramble to find a way to counter Mckay’s inevitable next move. This involves an unexpected but welcome return to one character’s homeworld, where other familiar faces are encountered. Meanwhile, Todd/Guide continues with his own machinations in the Wraith hierarchy, which ties into Rodney’s character arc rather nicely.

I found the book to be a relatively quick read, which is also a good sign. I seldom found myself bogged down in the story, waiting for something interesting to happen. The authors took some pains to ensure that readers could quickly get back up to speed on the various plot and character details from the television series and earlier volumes, and that is always a plus. Considering how many references to older characters there are, such as prominent members of the Genii, it’s a vital inclusion.

If there is one major problem with the “Legacy” series, it is how criminally under-promoted it is. Fandemonium seems to give little or no information on when the next volumes will be released, and if I hadn’t intentionally gone looking for information on this book, I never would have known it had already hit the shelves. It’s also disheartening to discover, on a regular basis, how many “Stargate Atlantis” fans were completely unaware that the books exist. Given the quality of the material, and the enduring sense of loss within the fandom since the series’ cancellation, these books are more than worth the time spent devouring them.

It’s unusual these days to have stand-alone Trek novels, though the changes in the publishing schedules have made the long-term continuity-driven “events” less and less viable. (Just look at how the post-series relaunches and “New Frontier” line have fallen in priority.) Despite my love for long-form fiction with a sprawling story, it was a treat to sit down and read a relatively quick and self-contained novel in the Trek universe.

The astronomer in me was gratified to see that the “mysterious Saturn hexagon storm” was used as an important plot element. If nothing else, it should get a lot of people looking up the phenomenon and learning more about an actual scientific subject of interest, which I am always happy to see. In terms of the story, I like that the mystery wasn’t entirely solved. Its role in the story was explained, of course, but the exact nature and purpose of the “hexagon” was left more open.

The explanations intersect with some of the more arcane lore of the original “Star Trek”: several episodes are referenced directly or indirectly as the novel marches on. On occasion, this leads to some unwieldy dialogue, as the author attempts to roust the memory by pointing right at those previous events. That said, there is never a point where one needs to remember the full details of an old episode to understand the context of a plot or character beat.

This is also true of the elements that the author pulled in from other books he’s written in the Trek universe, some going back more than a decade. Knowledge or memory of those earlier works will help round out some of the references and revelations in this book, as they complement each other well, but again, it’s not necessary to have that background.

Despite juggling two different time periods and more than a few plot elements, the book is very straightforward. I read this in the space of a few hours over the course of a week. In fact, it’s so straightforward that it’s very easy to miss the clues to one of the reveals at the end of the book. The author uses one of his more well-trodden personal tropes to great effect, since it’s easy to write off a certain character as literary “eye candy”, and thus overlook what is later rather obvious.

If one is looking for a relatively light and easy foray into the Trek universe, this is a good place to turn. If one has already read several earlier books by the author, then it’s a solid addition to his lineup.