Licht Spiel von Daniel Kehlmann (2023)

Lichtspiel hat mich von den ersten Seiten an gefesselt. Kehlmanns Prosa ist elegant, ohne sich in den Vordergrund zu drängen, und jede Szene trägt zu Figurenentwicklungen bei, die sich mit bemerkenswerter Subtilität entfalten. Weil der Roman den historischen Tatsachen mit großer Sorgfalt verpflichtet bleibt, wirkt die Handlung zugleich wie Fiktion und wie ein überzeugender Ausschnitt gelebter Geschichte. Anstatt moralische Urteile auszusprechen, lässt Kehlmann alltägliche Gespräche, berufliche Rivalitäten und gesellschaftliche Rituale die zunehmend monströse Verwandlung des zivilen Lebens im Dritten Reich sichtbar werden. Diese Darstellung erinnert an Stefan Zweigs Die Welt von Gestern; beide Werke stellen den kulturellen Reichtum und die Zuversicht der Friedenszeit dem geistigen Zusammenbruch des totalen Krieges gegenüber.

Die eigentliche Tragödie entfaltet sich in einer Folge, immer verzweifelterer Rechtfertigungen, während der Protagonist ein moralisches Prinzip nach dem anderen seinem künstlerischen Ehrgeiz opfert. Kehlmann gestaltet jeden einzelnen Kompromiss zunächst nachvollziehbar, doch gerade ihre allmähliche Häufung macht den Niedergang erschütternd. Aus dieser Entwicklung erwächst gelegentlich ein pechschwarzer Humor, weil die Selbstrechtfertigungen ihre eigene Absurdität offenbaren. Besonders beeindruckt hat mich die Darstellung Goebbels', dessen Umgang mit Künstlern bürokratisches Kalkül, theatralische Eitelkeit und politisches Gespür zu einer Figur verbindet, die gerade wegen ihrer Menschlichkeit verstört und nicht wegen einer überzeichneten Bosheit. Das Rätsel um den verschollenen Film verleiht der Handlung zusätzlich eine leise Spannung und bleibt dabei sorgfältig mit den historischen Quellen vereinbar.

Ich habe den Roman mit großer Bewunderung für Kehlmanns handwerkliches Können und seine historische Zurückhaltung beendet. Diese Erzählweise vertraut darauf, dass die Leserinnen und Leser die sich ausbreitende moralische Finsternis ohne aufdringliche Kommentare selbst erkennen, und gerade aus diesem Vertrauen entsteht eine außergewöhnliche emotionale Wirkung. Meine Schwester hat mir nach der Lektüre eine englische Übersetzung geschenkt, auf deren Lektüre ich mich bereits freue. Unter den historischen Romanen über das Leben von Künstlern unter einer Diktatur gehört Lichtspiel für mich zu den besten, die ich gelesen habe.

5/5 Sterne

The Reverse Centaur's Guide to Life after AI by Cory Doctorow (2026)

I am a regular reader of Cory Doctorow's blog, so relatively little of the material was new to me. Even so, I appreciated seeing his ideas gathered into a more coherent argument with additional historical and economic context. As always, Doctorow's prose remains energetic and accessible, although I do not rank this volume among his strongest books.

Doctorow's analysis proves most persuasive when he writes about subjects that intersect his own advocacy and research. His discussion of the AI hype cycle, the incentives driving technology companies, and the disconnect between technical experts and the managers who increasingly dictate their work illuminates a familiar but destructive organizational pathology. This failure, in which decision makers ignore the expertise of the people they employ while prescribing how those experts should succeed, predates artificial intelligence; the current AI boom has merely amplified the consequences. I also share Doctorow's belief that information workers should retain greater agency over the products of their labor and the economic value they create. My reservations arise when his arguments extend beyond those well-researched domains. Too often, his political commentary relies upon hyperbole, one-sided interpretations, or claims that I found insufficiently supported. Throughout the book, managers, executives, and investors frequently appear as villains motivated primarily by greed or malice, whereas I see those groups as playing an indispensable role in organizing capital, accepting financial risk, and creating the conditions that make technological innovation possible. That imbalance weakens an argument that is otherwise grounded in careful observation.

Despite those frustrations, The Reverse Centaur's Guide to Life after AI remains a worthwhile contribution to the ongoing debate over artificial intelligence, labor, and economic power. Doctorow challenges many assumptions that deserve scrutiny, even when I disagree with his conclusions, and his ability to identify institutional dysfunction remains among his greatest strengths. I finished the book valuing its insights while wishing its political analysis had reflected the same nuance that characterizes its discussion of technology.

3/5 Stars.

In the ocean of the night by Gregory Benford (1977)

I revisited In the Ocean of the Night after first encountering Nigel Walmsley's adventures in the science fiction magazines that serialized his stories between 1972 and 1977. Reading the novel after several decades reveals both its strengths and its age. Benford's scientific imagination already reaches toward the immense machine civilizations that would define the later Galactic Center Saga, but this opening installment alternates between moments of genuine wonder and passages that remain firmly rooted in the cultural preoccupations of the 1970s.

The novel follows Walmsley as his scientific discoveries draw him into conflict with political authorities while revealing evidence that humanity inhabits a galaxy shaped by ancient machine intelligences. This premise succeeds whenever Benford expands the cosmic horizon. The machines evoke the sense of awe that I crave from space opera, while the political conflict gains credibility because the principal opposition comes from institutions trapped within bureaucratic assumptions rather than outright malice. By contrast, the Yeti material feels conspicuously dated and interrupts the novel's otherwise serious speculative ambitions. The spiritual themes, although thoughtfully written, never resonated with me as strongly as the scientific and political elements.

Despite its uneven execution, In the Ocean of the Night remains an engaging beginning to one of hard science fiction's most ambitious series. Its weaker passages never eclipse the exhilaration of its larger vision, and this first novel left me eager to continue reading the Galactic Center Saga for the first time.

3/5 Stars.

What do you do with a problem by Kobi Yamada (2016)

This picture book (Kobi Yamada, illustrated by Mae Besom, Compendium, 2016)  earned a spot as a New York Times bestseller and picked up the Christopher Award, the Moonbeam Children's Book Award, and the National Indie Excellence  It is a companion to Yamada and Besom's earlier hit, What Do You Do With an Idea?

Plot

A boy wakes up one day with a problem. He doesn't name this problem, and that choice is the book's smartest move: the reader supplies whatever problem fits their own life. He tries to wish this problem away, then to ignore it, then to hide from it. The problem persists, and each avoidance makes this problem grow larger and darker in the illustrations, rendered as a swelling black cloud that trails the boy through gray, drained landscapes. Eventually he runs out of places to hide, turns to face this cloud, and discovers that the problem contains an opportunity. Besom's palette shifts from muted grays to bright color at that turn, and the final pages show the boy walking forward with confidence he lacked at the start.

Themes

Avoidance amplifies fear. The book's central claim is that a problem left unexamined grows heavier in the mind than it would in reality. That claim tracks with what psychologists call the exaggeration effect of avoidance, and Yamada dramatizes this idea visually rather than lecturing about it.

Courage is a decision, not a feeling. The boy doesn't stop being afraid before he turns around. He turns around anyway. This distinction gives the book more staying power than a simpler "just be brave" message would.

Problems double as opportunities. The book's final reveal, that the cloud held something valuable inside, lands as earned because of the buildup across the earlier pages rather than as a bolted-on moral.

Commentary

The ambiguity of the problem (never named, never illustrated as a specific object like a bully or a test) is the book's central design choice, and it works because of that restraint. A parent reading this book with a child facing a bully can apply the metaphor directly; all of us could apply the same metaphor to a work deadline or a hard conversation we are avoiding.

The book resolves cleanly: face the problem, and it turns into opportunity. Real problems don't always resolve that neatly, and a few reviewers raised the same concern about oversimplification. The critique is fair for adult readers looking for an instructive framework;  the book is aimed primarily at children ages five through eight, where a clean resolution serves the pedagogical purpose better than nuance would.

Lessons

1. Naming a problem, even silently to oneself, is the first step toward addressing it.

2. Avoidance has a compounding cost; the problem you dodge today gets harder to face tomorrow.

3. Facing a problem doesn't require overcoming fear.

4. A problem often carries much-needed information, not just discomfort you want to escape.

5. The size of a problem in your head is not a reliable measure of the size of a problem in reality.

Stack-Ranked Key Takeaways

1. Face it early. The single biggest driver of the story's tension is delay. This lesson ranks first because every other lesson depends on it.

2. Avoidance inflates the problem. The visual metaphor of the growing cloud makes this point unmissable, and it's the book's most memorable teaching device.

3. Courage precedes confidence, not the other way around. The boy acts before he feels ready, and that ordering is the most quietly radical idea in the book.

4. Problems can hold value. This lesson is the payoff, not the mechanism, of the story.

5. A problem doesn't need a name to be addressed. This one is a structural device for the reader, not a life lesson to apply directly.

I'd recommend this book to a parent looking for a gentle way to open a conversation with a child about a hard situation. The book is short, the metaphor is simple, and that simplicity is exactly why it works as well as it does. 5/5 Stars

Some Remarks by Neal Stephenson (2012)

I often go back and read older books by authors I admire. Sometimes I skip a new release because I think the subject will not interest me. More often than not, I later discover that I was wrong and regret not reading the book when it first appeared, while the science, technology, or cultural context was still fresh. Few nonfiction books about science or technology withstand the passage of time. This one does.

Some Remarks is a collection of Stephenson's essays, speeches, and introductions spanning subjects as varied as computing, cryptography, science, engineering, philosophy, history, literature, and the craft of writing. The essays share the same qualities that make his novels so enjoyable: intellectual curiosity, wide-ranging scholarship, and an enthusiasm for ideas that sends the reader down one fascinating rabbit hole after another.

I especially enjoyed the essays about Lord Kelvin, including his inventions, businesses, and extraordinary yacht, as well as Stephenson's discussions of Leibniz and the philosophical foundations of science and mathematics. The globe-trotting adventures of Stephenson as a hacker, engineer, and journalist are equally entertaining. Every essay contains some unexpected historical anecdote or intellectual detour that made me want to stop and learn more.

The collection is a little longer than it needs to be, but that is a minor criticism. This book is among the five best books I have read this year, and it reminded me why Neal Stephenson remains my favorite contemporary English-language author. 5/5 stars.

The Betrayed: Galaxy's Edge S03E02 by Jason Anspach & Nick Cole (2026)

The brutal close-quarters combat and relentless action live up to the high expectations established by the earlier books in this universe. Although this novel takes place much earlier in the overall timeline, it adds useful background for later events rather than advancing the primary story. In that sense, it feels more like a filler volume than an essential installment.

The story focuses on the Legion during one of its darkest periods, when Legionnaires turn on one another without mercy. The fratricidal warfare becomes a recurring theme throughout the novel and gives many of the battles a grim, tragic tone. The combat scenes are intense, well choreographed, and consistently engaging.

My principal criticism concerns the increasingly prominent fantasy elements. The Star Wars-like magic system never appealed to me, and I prefer the more grounded military science-fiction aspects of the setting. Even so, those supernatural elements are not surprising because they already play an important role later in the chronology.

Despite those reservations, I became caught up in the battles, the action, and the characters. The novel succeeds as an entertaining military adventure, even if it is not among the strongest entries in the series. 4/5 stars.

Demon in White by Christopher Ruocchio (2020)

The breathless, nonstop action continues. With each volume, the Sun Eater series expands its scope, and Demon in White raises the stakes dramatically. Hadrian Marlowe moves from the edge of imperial affairs to the very center of power, interacting directly with the Emperor, the imperial court, and the political forces that shape the fate of the galaxy.

The novel delivers everything I enjoy about grand space opera: fleet engagements, massive ground battles, ancient mysteries, alien civilizations, and political intrigue on an immense scale. The story continues to surprise me, and the character arcs remain among the series' greatest strengths. Hadrian and the supporting cast continue to grow in believable and interesting ways.

My principal criticism remains unchanged. Ruocchio continues to introduce new superpowers, miraculous abilities, and increasingly strange physics. Those additions make the underlying magic system feel inconsistent and reduce the sense that the universe operates according to coherent rules. I found those developments distracting because they weaken the otherwise excellent world-building.

Fortunately, the story is compelling enough that I was willing to suspend my disbelief. The characters, political drama, and relentless pace more than compensate for the increasingly elastic rules of the setting. I finished the book eager to continue the series. 5/5 stars.

The Sunborn by Gregory Benford (2005)

I expected The Sunborn to continue the story of The Martian Race and to explore the fascinating Martian microbial ecosystem in greater depth. Instead, Benford merges that setting with one of his earlier ideas: intelligent plasma life inhabiting the Sun, a concept that traces back to his fiction from the 1980s. The result surprised me, but it works remarkably well as a standalone novel.

The story shifts much of its attention to the outer Solar System and humanity's expanding presence there while introducing enigmatic plasma beings with their own cosmology, religion, and immense lifespans. Those aliens are genuinely alien in many respects, and Benford preserves enough mystery to maintain a satisfying sense of awe and wonder.

My principal criticism concerns the plasma beings themselves. Although their biology is imaginative, they sometimes react in ways that feel too human. The anthropomorphism occasionally weakens the illusion that they are truly incomprehensible forms of life.

The human side of the story is excellent. The politics and relationships among the people living throughout the Solar System feel authentic, the characters are well written, and the plot is tightly constructed. The story moves from one surprising development to the next without losing momentum. Although the novel was not the sequel I expected, I enjoyed it enormously. 5/5 stars.

The Life of Chuck (2025)

I did not know what to expect when I picked up The Life of Chuck, and I came away a little disappointed. Stephen King's craftsmanship is unmistakable. Every page reflects the confidence and polish of a master storyteller. Unfortunately, the story itself never captured my interest.

The book unfolds as three interconnected vignettes presented in reverse chronological order. Beginning with the apparent end of the world and working backward through Chuck's life, the narrative gradually reveals how the three sections fit together. The structure is unconventional and intentionally disorienting, emphasizing memory, mortality, and the significance of an ordinary life.

I admire King's writing, but I never became invested in the characters or the events in this book. The reverse chronology and fragmented structure kept me at a distance from the story rather than drawing me into it. I appreciate what King was trying to accomplish, but the novel's emotional impact never reached me.

I admired the execution more than I enjoyed the experience. 2/5 stars.

Queen Amid Ashes by Christopher Ruocchio (2024)

I am reading the Sun Eater books in story order, and this novella reads much like an expanded writing exercise that Ruocchio used to discover Hadrian Marlowe's inner voice. The story explores the burden of Hadrian's growing political power and the ways authority begins to challenge his idealism. In that sense, the novella adds useful context to the larger series even though its stakes are relatively modest.

The plot follows Hadrian through a political crisis that tests both his principles and his leadership. The focus is less on galaxy-spanning events than on character, responsibility, and the compromises that accompany power. Readers invested in Hadrian's long character arc will find the additional perspective worthwhile.

The novella's weaknesses are also apparent. The antagonists are one-dimensional, and the plot is predictable. The villains feel like cardboard embodiments of evil rather than fully realized people with understandable motives. Compared with the major novels in the series, the conflict lacks complexity and emotional weight.

Even so, I enjoyed the glimpse into Hadrian's development. The novella succeeds as a character study, even if it falls short as a standalone story. It is interesting, but it is not among the strongest entries in the series. 3/5 stars.