2011 humorous science fiction. Lord Thomas Kinago, foppish distant
cousin of the Emperor and son of the First Space Lord, is sent on his
obligatory short tour of military service. Meanwhile, a cluster of
worlds on the edge of the Imperium is being taken over…
It's not, as the blurb would have it, Wodehouse in Space. That's
not an intrinsically terrible idea, but although Kinago has the
unflappable Parsons to guide him, he also has his own skills and a
keen intelligence… that's been suppressed in a society which values
the appearance of brainlessness rather than not developed in the first
place. There are some vaguely Wodehousian moments:
I kept my hands behind my back in the manner of sea captains of
ancient Earth, which, alas, allowed the sword of my ancestors to
bang rhythmically against my leg. I made a mental note to consult
Parsons later on how to prevent that. I noticed his sword was not
beating a tattoo on him.
but the principal thrust of the book is Kinago exceeding his orders
and generating successes, albeit mixed ones, by his own efforts,
rather than having to be bailed out of disasters. He's closer to
Albert Campion than to Bertie Wooster.
My cousins chided me as being too active. I felt their criticism
deeply. I would have sworn that none of them could match me for
applied idleness in the past.
And indeed there are some very dark moments about half-way through,
not particularly about death and destruction, but explaining just how
the system of nobility works. This is humorous, certainly, but it's
humour painted over a very black background.
At first, when we discovered the first non-humanoid race, the
location of our home planet was kept secret as a security measure.
Then, over time, it got lost in the shuffle. I know it sounds
ridiculous to think an entire system could be mislaid like an
earring, but when one considers the enormous quantity of type-E
systems with a combination of rocky and gaseous planets circling a
dwarf yellow star, it would take some impressive proof to combat the
cynicism.
Things get started pretty slowly; there's action at the end, but if
you like a fast pace this may well not be the book for you. I do hope
that an author who can write
The black hole has been emitting unusual quantities of quasars.
in cold blood is going for parody; but the science here is very soft,
and entirely lacking in numbers, so maybe she just doesn't know. There
is something of the feel of Robert Asprin's Myth series about these
books, or even more so Phule's Company, not entirely surprising
since Nye co-authored the Myth series in Asprin's later years.
A guide to the sort of book this is: the final resolution to the
principal problem consists of making the villain look silly.
Followed by Fortunes of the Imperium.
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