I didn't much care for this book, in part because it doesn't live up to it's synopsis, in part because it spends too much time on "guns are bad, mmkay" proselytizing, and in part because at 625 pages, it was more than twice as long as it ought to have been.
I'm not sure how much involvement Arthur C. Clarke had with this book beyond putting his name down as an author, but I'd hope it wasn't much -- this novel will only appeal to close friends of Sarah Brady and hard-core fans of the writing of Michael P. Kube-McDowell.
I'm not sure how much involvement Arthur C. Clarke had with this book beyond putting his name down as an author, but I'd hope it wasn't much -- this novel will only appeal to close friends of Sarah Brady and hard-core fans of the writing of Michael P. Kube-McDowell.
