Walking to Aldebaran was my first book by Adrian Tchaikovsky, and it certainly was a good book. The story itself was a bit on the shallow side, I felt, but the writing, and the protagonist exploring weird alien catacombs, both were well done, so it was a good read. I think all things considered, the protagonist's narration voice was the best part of the book – without it, it would've been generic grim scifi, but this way it was quite a bit better than that. (A review copy was provided in exchange for an honest review by the publisher, via NetGalley.)

Post-apocalyptic sci-fi or fantasy? Who knows. There is so much to this book: the jungle prison of terror, the weird weird forest outside, the intrigues everywhere, the broken, broken people, the capital, the city under the city, and the return … that return. The protagonist is an educated idiot, but it's signalled clearly enough to not be too grating. The non-protagonist characters are largely cool or interesting, and I generally enjoyed myself a lot. But … I don't know what to think. On the one hand it felt more ambitious than the usual Tchaikovsky. There is more world-building scope, there are more actual people (rather than just props being moved around). At the same time, it feels all so muddled, looking back: Does it have any direction? Coherence? It's feverish in a way that sometimes nearly reminds me of (blasphemy!) Dhalgren. But it feels so inconsequential at the same time. I've got no idea how to rate this. This book is part of the 2022 Backlog Incident.

Might be the only Tchaikovsky I've read so far that is not entirely bleak in its conception of the human race, so that's a new one. Other than that … what's there to say? It's a solid little book. It's just … kinda lazy? I feel like Tchaikovsky is better than this; this is him taking a not terribly novel genre, and giving us his not super creative take on it, but because he's just a good author, the result is still nice enough. The part that I liked most was none of the obvious science fantasy shebang; it was how Tchaikovsky describes depression. Because, yes, very much like that. Nearly pushed the whole thing up to four stars, might actually do so once I re-read it for book club soon. This book is part of the 2022 Backlog Incident.

Perfectly good adventure; would have loved it as a kid. The care that went into describing and thinking about the puppets – made from wood, metal, paper, and having different professions and skills and life spans – was typical Tchaikowsky. The book felt a bit rushed to me, but I think that's just very good middle-grade pacing: make all the things happen all the time! Good book, even though it made me feel my age a bit.

With Adrian Tchaikovsky's Children of Time I've finally come upon a book that most of my friends liked or loved, and that I couldn't get into, for … complex reasons.

Good god why are all takes on Narnia so depressing? I'm the first person to rant about C.S. Lewis, I really am, but come on! I didn't enjoy this trip at all – I'm not going to call it the British alternative to The Magicians, because that would be wrong. Kinda. But seeing an aging whiny cowardly dude run through creepy, depressing not-Narnia, occasionally broken up by some pandemic depression was not my jam. Would probably have worked as a short story, honestly, because the premise is kinda neat, if you don't get to spend too much time with all the depression.