We are as G-ds by Peter Diamandis and Steve Kotler (2026)

We Are as Gods, by Peter H. Diamandis and Steven Kotler (2026)

I do not remember reading any of Diamandis's earlier books, although I have read thoughtful criticisms of his worldview, particularly More Everything Forever by Adam Becker. I approached this book with some skepticism and came away pleasantly surprised. The book is short, dense, and an enthusiastic romp through the idea that humanity is entering a technological singularity driven by AI, biotechnology, robotics, energy, space exploration, and other accelerating technologies.

Much of the book resonates with my lifelong love of optimistic science fiction. Diamandis paints a future that resembles the post-scarcity civilizations of Star Trek or Culture series, except that he argues many of those ideas are becoming practical engineering problems rather than distant fantasies. I found that perspective both entertaining and thought-provoking.

I am not quite as optimistic as Diamandis. Conversations with my children also highlighted an important omission. The modern "abundance" movement often underestimates the contributions of governments, universities, and publicly funded scientific institutions that create the fundamental discoveries upon which private innovation depends. I also noticed a strong bias toward the "great man" theory of history. The book celebrates visionary entrepreneurs but pays much less attention to the institutional labor and collaborative research that make many breakthroughs possible. Diamandis acknowledges several risks associated with rapidly advancing technology, including unequal access and misuse, but other challenges receive much less attention than I would have preferred.

Even so, I enjoyed the book enormously. The optimism is infectious, and many of the futuristic ideas are genuinely tethered to technologies that already exist or are emerging today. For readers who enjoy thoughtful science fiction, the book often feels like hard science fiction that has escaped into the real world. 5/5 stars.

Head On by John Scalzi (2018)

This book  is a satisfying continuation of the Lock In series and the adventures of FBI agent Chris Shane. Having established the fascinating setting in the first novel, Scalzi lets the sequel focus on the characters, the mystery, and the political tensions that naturally arise from his near-future world.

The story centers on the investigation of a suspicious death connected to Hilketa, the violent robotic sport that has become a cultural phenomenon among Haden's syndrome patients. The murder mystery unfolds against a backdrop of corporate interests, political maneuvering, media attention, and the continuing social consequences of the pandemic that reshaped society.

I enjoyed both the mystery and the politics. I was especially delighted by Leslie Vann, whose irreverence and relentless antics provide much of the novel's humor while never undermining the seriousness of the investigation. The partnership between Vann and Chris Shane remains one of the series' greatest strengths.

The plot moves at a brisk pace, the characters continue to grow, and the action never overwhelms the detective story. I finished the book eager to continue the series. 5/5 stars.

The Martian Race by Gregory Benford (1999)

I first encountered Gregory Benford through his short stories in the science-fiction magazines of the 1960s and 1970s, and I enjoyed many of his novels throughout the 1980s. I am not sure why he fell off my reading list, but I have recently started catching up on the books I missed.

The novel follows an ambitious privately funded expedition to Mars in the near future, blending engineering, exploration, political maneuvering, and the search for indigenous Martian life. As usual, Benford grounds the story in solid science while leaving room for the sense of awe and wonder that has always distinguished his best work.

Benford's treatment of biology is particularly imaginative. I still remember how much I enjoyed Blood Music, and the same fascination with biological systems appears here. I was less convinced by the Martian anaerobes. Their extraordinary strength and speed felt more like superpowers than plausible evolutionary adaptations. Even so, the broader ecosystem is imaginative and internally consistent enough that I was willing to suspend my disbelief.

The spacecraft, engineering, and technology are equally satisfying, and the characters feel like real people rather than stock adventure figures. The combination of believable science, engaging characters, and an exciting story made this an excellent read. I am looking forward to the second book in the series. 5/5 stars.

War and Remembrance by Herman Wouk (1978)

War and Remembrance, by Herman Wouk (1978)

This is the most powerful and best book I have read so far this year. I have not been moved or cried this hard since reading A History of the Jews by Paul Johnson in 2015.

War and Remembrance follows several families through the darkest years of the Second World War, weaving fictional characters into actual historical events. The novel spans the European and Pacific theaters, the Holocaust, naval warfare, diplomacy, and the personal costs of global conflict. Wouk's meticulous historical research gives the story an authenticity that few historical novels achieve.

I was already familiar with most of the historiographic facts behind the events in the novel. Even so, I became increasingly invested in the characters and their intersecting story lines. By placing ordinary people inside real history, Wouk transforms familiar historical events into something immediate, visceral, and emotionally devastating.

Wouk's prose is crisp and clear. His dialogue flows naturally and exemplifies "show, don't tell." The conversations, relationships, and quiet moments allowed me to visualize the characters and their struggles with remarkable clarity.

Despite the horrific subject matter, I enjoyed this novel enormously. It is one of the finest works of historical fiction I have ever read, and I recommend it without reservation. 5/5 stars.

Squad Kill by Jack Campbell (2026)

I came to Squad Kill with considerable goodwill; Jack Campbell's military science fiction has often satisfied my craving for tightly structured campaigns, coherent operational thinking, and protagonists navigating institutions under pressure. Squad Kill, however, left me more frustrated than engaged. While Campbell's earlier work frequently balanced tactical action with a convincing sense of scale, this novel struck me as formulaic; plot developments arrived with such regularity that I often found myself predicting major turns long before the narrative reached them. This predictability might have been less damaging had the prose compensated through atmosphere or characterization, yet the writing rarely generated the momentum I associate with Campbell at his strongest. Scenes moved efficiently from one objective to the next, but efficiency alone cannot sustain dramatic tension. Instead, many sequences felt functional rather than immersive; the narrative communicated events without fully animating them.

My greatest difficulty involved the novel's central speculative premise concerning the alien antagonists and their genetically inherited memories and skills. Science fiction regularly asks readers to accept improbable assumptions, but successful speculation usually establishes an internally persuasive framework. In Squad Kill, I never found that framework convincing. The notion that complex competencies could be transmitted through genetic memory functions less as an extrapolation from biology than as a narrative convenience designed to explain alien capabilities. This premise repeatedly pulled me out of the story because I spent more time questioning the mechanism than considering its implications. Science fiction does not require strict realism; it does benefit from speculative foundations that encourage reflection rather than skepticism. Compounding that issue, the broader plot unfolds along familiar lines. Narrative reversals rarely surprised me, and several conflicts seemed constructed to arrive at expected outcomes rather than emerging organically from character decisions or strategic constraints. As a result, the campaign lacked the uncertainty that military science fiction often depends upon.

The characterization proved equally disappointing. Many figures felt defined primarily by recognizable archetypes rather than by distinctive personalities, motivations, or contradictions. Instead of encountering individuals shaped by competing loyalties, fears, and ambitions, I frequently encountered characters who seemed to exist in service of specific narrative functions. This characterization problem was particularly noticeable among supporting cast members, whose dialogue and reactions often reinforced existing expectations rather than challenging them. The alien adversaries suffered from a similar simplification; rather than developing into a complex civilization with its own internal tensions and logic, they remained largely defined by the genetic-memory concept that underpinned their abilities. Consequently, their presence generated limited curiosity and even less dread. I would not rank Squad Kill among my favorite Jack Campbell novels. The predictable plotting, stereotypical characterization, unconvincing speculative biology, and uninspired prose combined to create a reading experience that never fully captured my attention. 2/5 Stars.

The Proving Ground by Michael Connelly (2025)

I enjoyed the The Lincoln Lawyer adaptation, and my wife read the entire series, so I decided to start here. I am glad I did. The book is excellent.

Connelly's writing is sharper and more engaging than many legal thrillers. I enjoy John Grisham, but Connelly's characters feel richer and more complex. The story quickly pulled me into the drama. I cared about the people involved, and I was eager to discover the next twist in the case. The courtroom strategy, investigation, and personal stakes all work together to create genuine tension.

The plot centers on a legal battle that emerges from the collision of artificial intelligence, intellectual property, corporate power, and the enormous sums of money flowing into the current AI boom. The story feels remarkably timely because many of the underlying questions already dominate business headlines. Who owns AI-generated work? Who benefits from the technology? How much power should a handful of companies control? Connelly uses those questions as the foundation for a compelling legal thriller rather than a technology lecture, which keeps the story relevant without becoming preachy.

The strongest aspect of the novel is its cast. The hero and his team are competent, determined, and easy to root for. Their relationships feel authentic, and their victories feel earned. My only criticism is that the moral landscape can be a little too simple. The heroes are almost too admirable, while the villains are almost too greedy and corrupt. A few more shades of gray would have made the conflict even stronger.

That criticism is minor. The story is engrossing, the characters are memorable, and the pacing rarely lets up. I thoroughly enjoyed the book and expect to read more of the series. 5/5 stars.

Lock In by John Scalzi (2014)

Scalzi writes a remarkable number of books, and I was pleased to stumble across this series in the library. This first volume is fantastic.

The novel is set in the aftermath of a global pandemic that leaves millions of people fully conscious but unable to move their bodies. Society adapts through advanced robotics, neural interfaces, and new forms of identity and communication. The result is a compelling near-future setting that feels both imaginative and plausible.

One feature I particularly appreciated was the collection of appendices at the end of the book. Those sections provide a rich history of the setting, explain the technology that underpins the story, and describe the political and social changes that led to the novel's present day. Many authors would have buried that material in exposition. Scalzi presents the information separately, allowing the story to move at a brisk pace while still giving interested readers a deeper understanding of the world.

The setting is excellent. The characters are engaging. The mystery is well constructed. Most importantly, the speculative ideas serve the story rather than overwhelming it. I became invested in both the people and the world they inhabit.

I am delighted to have discovered this series. 5/5 stars.

Arsène Lupin, gentleman-cambrioleur par Maurice Leblanc (1907)

My local library had the complete ten-volume series in the foreign-language section. After skimming a few pages, I noticed that the prose was simple enough for my limited French, so I decided to give the books a try. My curiosity was also driven by the excellent Netflix adaptation, Lupin, which my family enjoyed.

This first collection of Lupin stories introduces the famous gentleman thief through a series of clever capers, disguises, and reversals. The plots are light, fast-moving, and often amusing. I particularly liked Lupin himself. He has a mischievous charm and a surprisingly big heart that make him easy to root for despite his criminal profession. The plot twists are also entertaining.

Unfortunately, much of the rest of the book did not work for me. The characters often feel cartoonish, and I found the values, mores, and social customs of the setting unappealing. The constant displays of status and ostentation grew tiresome. I was also frustrated by the way Lupin's henchmen and allies appear whenever the plot requires them and then vanish again without much explanation. The device reminded me of the worst Batman films, where a supervillain somehow commands an army of loyal followers without any believable organization, motivation, or planning behind the scenes.

The book was mildly entertaining, but I never became invested in the setting or the supporting cast. I am glad I tried it in French, yet I do not expect to continue with the rest of the series. 2/5 stars.

 

Sun Eater: The Lesser Devil by Christopher Ruocchio (2020)

I am reading the Sun Eater books in story order rather than publication order, and this novella appears between the first and second novels. The placement immediately suggests what the book is: a side quest rather than a major installment in the central narrative.

The story follows Crispin Marlowe, the brother of Hadrian Marlowe, as he becomes involved in an assassination plot. The novella expands the setting, provides a different perspective on the Sollan Empire, and adds depth to characters who are likely to become more important later in the series.

While reading it, I was reminded of writing exercises that authors sometimes use to discover their characters. Such exercises place a character into a difficult situation and explore how that character thinks, reacts, and changes. I remember completing similar assignments during my own misspent youth writing unpublished fiction. The Lesser Devil often feels like that sort of exercise. The story helps Ruocchio flesh out personalities, motivations, and relationships that exist outside Hadrian's immediate experience.

The novella is enjoyable enough, but its scope is narrow and its connection to the main story arc is limited. Readers invested in the larger series will appreciate the additional context and characterization. Readers looking for major developments in the central narrative may find the book somewhat incidental.

I am glad I read it, but I would not consider it essential. 3/5 stars.

Far Futures edited by Gregory Benford (1995)

I enjoyed several of Benford's earlier novels and loved his award-winning Timescape. I never connected with Great Sky River, however, and after reading that book Benford largely fell off my radar. When I came across a shelf of his books that I had never read, I picked up this anthology and decided to give him another try.

The collection explores the classic science-fiction question of humanity's distant future. The stories range from interstellar civilizations and post-human evolution to cosmic-scale speculation. As with many anthologies, the quality varies considerably from story to story.

Two stories are fantastic and justify reading the collection by themselves. One story is terrible. The remaining stories fall into the broad middle ground of competent but unremarkable science fiction. None of those middle-tier entries are bad, but few left a lasting impression.

The result is an uneven anthology that never becomes boring but rarely achieves greatness. I am glad I read it, mostly because of the strongest stories, but I would not place it among the essential science-fiction collections of the era. 3/5 stars.