I could study the mountains in the middle distance when we landed in what looked like the ruined garden of some abandoned estate. There were trees like towers of bells, and patches of golden-green sunlight. A waterfall roared about a hundred paces away. "This grass is fresh and very soft," I said when our hover-cab had lifted off, "but I wouldn't think you'd want to sit on the ground in that skirt."



Colette nodded and waved her hand, leading me to a couple of stones about a hundred steps away. I dusted off both with my handkerchief, which got me a really great smile, and I sat on mine after she had sat down.



Opening her shaping bag, she took out the plastic-bound book she had shown me before. "Books like this are almost obsolete now. Did you know it?"



"The librarians have told me so. I would hate to believe it."



"You must, because it's true."



I wanted to walk. That was a new feeling for me, or maybe only an old buried one coming back, one so old I had forgotten it. I got up and walked up and down, not fast but not slow. Books - real books printed on paper - were the heart and soul of a whole culture that had been mine. Cultures are like people, it seems. Sure, they get old and die; but sometimes they die even when they are not very old at all.



"I can see you're trying to keep this age straight. " Colette herself was trying hard not to laugh.



Still dizzy with thought, I nodded.



"That's good. Do it. I'll stop talking until you sit again."



Without paying much attention to what I did, I had gone to the edge of the waterfall. I guess it was pretty small, no higher than some of the belltower trees, but really pretty. I must have watched it for ten or fifteen minutes. Maybe more.



At last I went back to her. "You told me that books are almost obsolete, yet you carry that one in your shaping bag. That must mean that this secret you're looking for is in there, or you think it is. You were afraid of our being overheard - afraid there were hidden listening devices in the library.



She nodded, looking grim.

Have I described Arabella already? Well, probably, but I am going to do it again. If you already know, you can skip this part. Long dark curls flying, cast-a-spell dark, dark eyes open wide, and tiny mouth open wider. An old-gold complexion that made you want to run your hands over every square centimeter of her, then push her skin up against yours."



Got it?



Very, very hot. Pocket-sized. High, high heels, perfect legs, hula-hips, narrow little waist, and tits to die for.

Gene Wolfe is one of my all-time favorite authors, the author of one of my favorite series ( The Book of the New Sun , I wrote my college entrance essays about that series!) so it pains me to say this, but: I did not love this book.It was good, don't get me wrong. It's really more of a murder mystery than a science fiction novel, a murder mystery set in the future, with sci/fi elements that are part of the mystery, and it was a mystery that I didn't even come close to solving (perhaps partly because I wasn't trying, because I kept waiting for the science fiction part to play a bigger role). So it surprised me, and it was different, and much more layered than it seemed at first, and I'll probably think about it for a long time. But it was just too easy to set aside and leave for another book. I started this on February 10th, it is now February 27th and I've finished eight other full-length books since then.I didn't really care for the character's voice. And that's sort of an odd complaint, because the voice isGeneWolfeish (for lack of a better word!). I don't know if I've changed, or if it wasn't the right voice for this story, or if there was some other problem, but it didn't work for me. He was too calm, and curt, and superior, and emotionless. (At first I wrote "completely emotionless" and that's not quite right, there wasemotion, just not enough.)Here is a (longish) sample:So either you like that or you don't. Wolfe's style usually works really well for me, but in this book it did not. And - okay I KNOW this is minor, but - the term "shaping bag" is used A LOT and it really really bugged me, partly because it was never defined, and partly because it was some lady-device that only ladies carry around.Which brings me to the main thing that didn't work for me in this book: the constant undercurrent of sexism. This story is set in the fairly far future: the main character (who narrates this story), Ern, is a "re-clone," the clone of a popular author from 100 years in the past. And from what Ern mentions of his own time, he is from some time in our (near) future. So this book takes place at least 120 years in the future. One would hope that, by then, all the sexist crap would be gone. But not in this book. We are constantly told that women do this, men do that when they are with women, and so on. Not to mention how Ern objectifies women.Just, no, none for me, thanks.All of the women in this book serve as plot devices, they are empty vessels or reflecting bowls, moving the plot along by serving some purpose or another. The men are the ones with personalities, will, and agency. The men take action, the men affect outcomes.And then there was the slow pace. Glacier slow. The action doesn't really start until page 190! But even then, it's not quite as exciting as I had hoped it would be. Some crazy shit happens! But Ern just continues to describe it in his I-never-get-ruffled sort of way.Here is my sad face :-( Because underneath all this dull, dry, sexist narration is a set of really fascinating concepts: the ethics of human beings vs objects (the re-clones have human thoughts and feelings, but they are objects whothey will be incineratedwhen they are no longer useful), the reduced population (was this intentional or due to a disaster?), the oppressive government that pretends it is better for everyone (so long as you are not "damaged" such as blind or mute, then you are hidden away in an institution), and last but not least the amazing world that could be created or accessed by learning to manipulate space the way one could manipulate objects. All of this is made more interesting by being filtered through the unreliable narrator (Ia good unreliable narrator!) Yes, all that is there, writhing around under the surface, tantalizing the reader. But the surface that we float along on is about as interesting as a gray and becalmed ocean.And, while I didn't really have the mystery solved, and I was surprised by the conclusion, I didn't really care, either.