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cjgwilliams's review
4.0
I really liked this one. Peter David has written some of the best Star Trek novels and this one did not disappoint. I was a Riker/Troi fan from the beginning (oh, how I was annoyed by the Worf romance, really) so I was super thrilled when I found a book that actually captured what I thought was a good explanation of their relationship. I'm a romantic so the entire concept of Imzadi was a wonderfully romantic notion for a teenager. I recently re-read this book as an adult and discovered that yes indeed, I still loved it. Happily for me, the franchise agreed with me and FINALLY married Riker and Troi. (Even though I was SUPER disappointed in that movie, but I digress...)
aisling214's review
4.0
Guilty Pleasure...:) But this was actually was a lot better than I thought it would be! Sure there were a couple cornball moments... and let's face it this was not a a literary masterpiece...but truly a very fun read. And the cheesiness is one of the things I love about Star Trek, it's light and doesn't take itself too seriously. :) Overall i would recommend to anyone.(Unless they are violently apposed to betazoid traditions.)
sammy_boy's review against another edition
adventurous
hopeful
lighthearted
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
2.0
This is widely considered one of the best Star Trek novels and since it is centered around one of my least favorite characters, I wanted to see if it would give me new insight and appreciation for Riker. It did not.
saroz162's review against another edition
2.0
I've tried to review this book a couple of times now, and each time, I've had trouble. I'm caught between my nostalgic self and my analytical self - or, if you prefer, childhood and adulthood. Ultimately, I think I have to break down what has changed about me as a person - and what hasn't - to really define what it is about Imzadi that troubled me.
I became a Star Trek: The Next Generation fan sometime in 1991, when my Dad turned on the TV and I watched part of the summer repeat of "Data's Day." My memory - and I have no reason why I'd be wrong about this - is that the first scene I saw was the one where Dr. Crusher taught Data how to dance. For the next two years, I lived, ate, and breathed Next Gen, to the point my mother put her foot down and banned it from our home. And although I never made a full return to those heady, early days, I've been a fan of the various Star Trek series ever since.
Recently, I've been going through what I can only describe as Extreme Stress, which has nothing to do with this review except that it forms the foundation of why I read Imzadi in the first place. In the last few months, I've found myself retreating into a nostalgic place, wanting mostly to engage with the books, films and television that charmed me when I was nine or ten years old. Comfort food as mental defense, you might call it. To that end, I decided to revisit The Next Generation, realizing that I probably hadn't watched a full episode in close to fifteen years. What I found is that the series has dated quite hard - there's no moralizing quite like late '80s moralizing - but at the same time, it retains an appealing optimism and warm, familial quality that made me want to keep watching. And so I did.
Eventually, I came to a place where I wouldn't be able to access my new HD Blu-Rays for at least a couple of weeks (and ultimately became three months), so I decided to try a Next Generation novel instead. I read several dozen of these when I was about ten years old, although I remember very few specifics. The one thing that came to the fore of my memory was that Peter David's books were always the best: Q-Squared I recalled as a definite favorite, along with Vendetta. I searched for those at the local library but emerged, instead, with Imzadi - a book I definitely remember seeing, but which I have no actual recollection of ever reading (not as if that means anything almost 25 years later). I checked the book out, I read it, and I've been conflicted ever since.
I know this is one of the most lauded Star Trek novels of all time. I know I have friends who adore it.
I really, really, really couldn't wait for this book to end.
Let's be clear: the initial section, set in an alternate future where Admiral William Riker has gone grey as a desk jockey, is pretty appealing stuff. David sets a mystery in motion pretty quickly, and there's at least one nice piece of total misdirection when Riker is summoned back to a Betazoid deathbed. Despite a little frustration with the plot device of the Guardian of Forever - seriously, fandom has run that thing into the ground - I got a pretty good momentum with that initial quarter or so of the book, and I was looking forward to what came next.
Unfortunately, things took a significant turn.
There are really three problems with Imzadi for me. The first, which I've already hinted at, is my complete exhaustion with fanservice. Admittedly, this is the kind of stuff I would have found really cool at ten years old: "Wow, it's the Guardian of Forever!" "Wow, they mentioned Kirk!" "Wow, they replayed a scene from 'Encounter at Farpoint' from a different perspective!" As an adult, I find it tiring in the extreme. You can pull this sort of thing off every once in a blue moon, usually for some sort of "special anniversary" episode or story, but otherwise, the insistence of fan writers on tying every last little piece of their universe together in a connect-the-dots picture only makes it feel smaller and less realistic. A book like Imzadi only exists to tell a backstory we would never see on television, but that only highlights the obvious issue: I want to read something new, not a series of cutesy little touchstone references.
My second problem with Imzadi is more technical, and that's simply that David doesn't write good prose. He writes extremely casual prose, chalk full of little, choppy sentences beginning "And.." and "But...". His similes feel like the sort of thing you get from adolescent poetry; I no longer have the book in front of me, but I'm fairly sure at one point he compares Riker's anger to "the rage of a fiery volcano" (or something very similar). This one's more of a personal problem for me because I have a degree in English and I teach English; it's just impossible for me not to notice this stuff now. I'm all for stylistic breaking-of-rules, certainly, but David's prose never comes across that way. I have the suspicion it's the writing of someone who's simply better skilled at the short, stabby dialogue of a comic book panel than the long form of the novel paragraph, at least at this particular point in his career.
So far, it could easily be argued that the real problem is with me, not the material: I grew up, the cardinal sin of anyone looking to suspend their disbelief and enjoy the ride. If these were the only issues I had with Imzadi, though, I'd probably chalk it up to taste and feel a little more generous. Unfortunately, there's another problem I have with the book, and it's a blinder; in fact, it takes me out of the territory of "irritated" and straight into "repulsed."
Simply put, the sexual politics of Imzadi are awful. Obviously, if I read this book when I was ten - or frankly, if I'd even read it at twenty - that concern would have passed right over my head. In my thirties, though, it's hard to pat something like this on the metaphorical cheek and let it pass with a gentle "That's okay" - because it's not. Star Trek, particularly in its earlier iterations, has never exactly been a bastion of sexual equality - yeah, I can already hear a bunch of male fans mooing their offended disagreement. In the original series, though, it's a sign of the times; you can't really find an American TV show that doesn't play to the idea of women as soft-focus conquests or exotic hippy children. By Next Gen, it's a little more distressing; it seems obvious, now, that Gene Roddenberry based both James Kirk and William Riker on his idealized, ladykiller image of himself, and as nice a guy as Jonathan Frakes seems to be, that sometimes comes over...unpleasantly...in The Next Generation. All Frakes has to do is cock an eyebrow and leer smarmily to get a girl in his arms, and although the writers find ways to send that up on occasion, it can still make for uncomfortable viewing in 2016. Imzadi plays straight into that weakness.
If Peter David were here to defend his novel, he would probably say that he tries to depict Riker as a sexually confident young man who has to be taught a "better kind of love" by the woman destined to be his beloved. Indeed, much of the center section of the story is taken up with a young Deanna Troi trying to teach Riker to get outside of his own head (or, well, his own pants). Unfortunately, David - perhaps in the expectation that the reader will agree - seems to glorify in the idea of Riker as a headstrong young lech even as he pays lip service to the idea that it's wrong. This is a book where men make bets on whether they can get women into the sack, and Riker lies and allows himself to lose because he's become a Sensitive New Age Guy. This is a book where the woman is a literal virgin (of course) and the man only feels like a virgin. This is a book where the male lead is made to strip in public in a Comedy Trombone ("wah-waaaah") moment, but we are invited to dwell longingly over the female lead's body again, and again, and again. We are subject to multiple moments of "'no' means 'yes'" - including the big romantic breakthrough moment - a particularly pernicious trope that probably dates this book harder than anything else. By the time Deanna has been abducted by an alien terrorist who promises to kill her, not rape her, and she expresses her relief, I've just about had it with Imzadi. I know that Troi was never given much of a character on television, and I completely understand that in many ways, Imzadi functions as a romance novel, where you expect Meet Cutes, moments of big swelling music, and totally unrealistic power dynamics. That doesn't mean I have to like it, though, and it certainly doesn't make it right.
They say you can never go home again, and no, I will never be ten years old again in this lifetime. I can never look at these characterizations as innocently as I once did; I can no longer fail to have expectations of professional writers. The truth is, though, I still like Star Trek as much as I ever did. I like its optimism. I like its ability to tell incredibly human stories through the veil of science fiction and fantasy. I still like Picard's totally upright morality, I like Data's deadpan humor, and I like the way Riker straddles a chair backward like a little kid. I still find a lot of comfort in that universe, so it troubles me, a bit, that I've come to a place where I can't just turn my brain off and "relax." I can't, though - I can't. In a universe that's supposed to be a utopia, where all people are equal, it's impossible to get around the fact this novel seems to have been written for a small, single-track, and dare I say it, adolescent audience.
I'm just not part of that club anymore.
I became a Star Trek: The Next Generation fan sometime in 1991, when my Dad turned on the TV and I watched part of the summer repeat of "Data's Day." My memory - and I have no reason why I'd be wrong about this - is that the first scene I saw was the one where Dr. Crusher taught Data how to dance. For the next two years, I lived, ate, and breathed Next Gen, to the point my mother put her foot down and banned it from our home. And although I never made a full return to those heady, early days, I've been a fan of the various Star Trek series ever since.
Recently, I've been going through what I can only describe as Extreme Stress, which has nothing to do with this review except that it forms the foundation of why I read Imzadi in the first place. In the last few months, I've found myself retreating into a nostalgic place, wanting mostly to engage with the books, films and television that charmed me when I was nine or ten years old. Comfort food as mental defense, you might call it. To that end, I decided to revisit The Next Generation, realizing that I probably hadn't watched a full episode in close to fifteen years. What I found is that the series has dated quite hard - there's no moralizing quite like late '80s moralizing - but at the same time, it retains an appealing optimism and warm, familial quality that made me want to keep watching. And so I did.
Eventually, I came to a place where I wouldn't be able to access my new HD Blu-Rays for at least a couple of weeks (and ultimately became three months), so I decided to try a Next Generation novel instead. I read several dozen of these when I was about ten years old, although I remember very few specifics. The one thing that came to the fore of my memory was that Peter David's books were always the best: Q-Squared I recalled as a definite favorite, along with Vendetta. I searched for those at the local library but emerged, instead, with Imzadi - a book I definitely remember seeing, but which I have no actual recollection of ever reading (not as if that means anything almost 25 years later). I checked the book out, I read it, and I've been conflicted ever since.
I know this is one of the most lauded Star Trek novels of all time. I know I have friends who adore it.
I really, really, really couldn't wait for this book to end.
Let's be clear: the initial section, set in an alternate future where Admiral William Riker has gone grey as a desk jockey, is pretty appealing stuff. David sets a mystery in motion pretty quickly, and there's at least one nice piece of total misdirection when Riker is summoned back to a Betazoid deathbed. Despite a little frustration with the plot device of the Guardian of Forever - seriously, fandom has run that thing into the ground - I got a pretty good momentum with that initial quarter or so of the book, and I was looking forward to what came next.
Unfortunately, things took a significant turn.
There are really three problems with Imzadi for me. The first, which I've already hinted at, is my complete exhaustion with fanservice. Admittedly, this is the kind of stuff I would have found really cool at ten years old: "Wow, it's the Guardian of Forever!" "Wow, they mentioned Kirk!" "Wow, they replayed a scene from 'Encounter at Farpoint' from a different perspective!" As an adult, I find it tiring in the extreme. You can pull this sort of thing off every once in a blue moon, usually for some sort of "special anniversary" episode or story, but otherwise, the insistence of fan writers on tying every last little piece of their universe together in a connect-the-dots picture only makes it feel smaller and less realistic. A book like Imzadi only exists to tell a backstory we would never see on television, but that only highlights the obvious issue: I want to read something new, not a series of cutesy little touchstone references.
My second problem with Imzadi is more technical, and that's simply that David doesn't write good prose. He writes extremely casual prose, chalk full of little, choppy sentences beginning "And.." and "But...". His similes feel like the sort of thing you get from adolescent poetry; I no longer have the book in front of me, but I'm fairly sure at one point he compares Riker's anger to "the rage of a fiery volcano" (or something very similar). This one's more of a personal problem for me because I have a degree in English and I teach English; it's just impossible for me not to notice this stuff now. I'm all for stylistic breaking-of-rules, certainly, but David's prose never comes across that way. I have the suspicion it's the writing of someone who's simply better skilled at the short, stabby dialogue of a comic book panel than the long form of the novel paragraph, at least at this particular point in his career.
So far, it could easily be argued that the real problem is with me, not the material: I grew up, the cardinal sin of anyone looking to suspend their disbelief and enjoy the ride. If these were the only issues I had with Imzadi, though, I'd probably chalk it up to taste and feel a little more generous. Unfortunately, there's another problem I have with the book, and it's a blinder; in fact, it takes me out of the territory of "irritated" and straight into "repulsed."
Simply put, the sexual politics of Imzadi are awful. Obviously, if I read this book when I was ten - or frankly, if I'd even read it at twenty - that concern would have passed right over my head. In my thirties, though, it's hard to pat something like this on the metaphorical cheek and let it pass with a gentle "That's okay" - because it's not. Star Trek, particularly in its earlier iterations, has never exactly been a bastion of sexual equality - yeah, I can already hear a bunch of male fans mooing their offended disagreement. In the original series, though, it's a sign of the times; you can't really find an American TV show that doesn't play to the idea of women as soft-focus conquests or exotic hippy children. By Next Gen, it's a little more distressing; it seems obvious, now, that Gene Roddenberry based both James Kirk and William Riker on his idealized, ladykiller image of himself, and as nice a guy as Jonathan Frakes seems to be, that sometimes comes over...unpleasantly...in The Next Generation. All Frakes has to do is cock an eyebrow and leer smarmily to get a girl in his arms, and although the writers find ways to send that up on occasion, it can still make for uncomfortable viewing in 2016. Imzadi plays straight into that weakness.
If Peter David were here to defend his novel, he would probably say that he tries to depict Riker as a sexually confident young man who has to be taught a "better kind of love" by the woman destined to be his beloved. Indeed, much of the center section of the story is taken up with a young Deanna Troi trying to teach Riker to get outside of his own head (or, well, his own pants). Unfortunately, David - perhaps in the expectation that the reader will agree - seems to glorify in the idea of Riker as a headstrong young lech even as he pays lip service to the idea that it's wrong. This is a book where men make bets on whether they can get women into the sack, and Riker lies and allows himself to lose because he's become a Sensitive New Age Guy. This is a book where the woman is a literal virgin (of course) and the man only feels like a virgin. This is a book where the male lead is made to strip in public in a Comedy Trombone ("wah-waaaah") moment, but we are invited to dwell longingly over the female lead's body again, and again, and again. We are subject to multiple moments of "'no' means 'yes'" - including the big romantic breakthrough moment - a particularly pernicious trope that probably dates this book harder than anything else. By the time Deanna has been abducted by an alien terrorist who promises to kill her, not rape her, and she expresses her relief, I've just about had it with Imzadi. I know that Troi was never given much of a character on television, and I completely understand that in many ways, Imzadi functions as a romance novel, where you expect Meet Cutes, moments of big swelling music, and totally unrealistic power dynamics. That doesn't mean I have to like it, though, and it certainly doesn't make it right.
They say you can never go home again, and no, I will never be ten years old again in this lifetime. I can never look at these characterizations as innocently as I once did; I can no longer fail to have expectations of professional writers. The truth is, though, I still like Star Trek as much as I ever did. I like its optimism. I like its ability to tell incredibly human stories through the veil of science fiction and fantasy. I still like Picard's totally upright morality, I like Data's deadpan humor, and I like the way Riker straddles a chair backward like a little kid. I still find a lot of comfort in that universe, so it troubles me, a bit, that I've come to a place where I can't just turn my brain off and "relax." I can't, though - I can't. In a universe that's supposed to be a utopia, where all people are equal, it's impossible to get around the fact this novel seems to have been written for a small, single-track, and dare I say it, adolescent audience.
I'm just not part of that club anymore.
bikes_books_yarn's review against another edition
4.0
The only Star Trek book I have ever read. I was happy at what a good read it was and remember thinking I would not mind reading more.
barbtrek's review
4.0
I love revisiting these characters. Though this got a bit too sappy at times (even for me & I gave twilight 5 stars! Haha), there was enough of the other typical Star Trek elements that made up for it.
carlylottsofbookz's review against another edition
3.0
While I suspect that this book was given to me more as a joke than as for actual reading material, I enjoyed it so much!
I'll admit it, I'm a Trekie, TNG (if you know what it stands for, you're in the club) was *my* show. I watched it growing up, and then again as an adult. 7 years of awesome characters with awesome plot lines and themes--I couldn't get enough.
This book was like jumping into a TNG episode that I hadn't watched before. It was great to picture the characters, and I'd say the writing was pretty accurate to the characters.
Excellent read! My first bout into fan fiction...and I think I liked it!
I'll admit it, I'm a Trekie, TNG (if you know what it stands for, you're in the club) was *my* show. I watched it growing up, and then again as an adult. 7 years of awesome characters with awesome plot lines and themes--I couldn't get enough.
This book was like jumping into a TNG episode that I hadn't watched before. It was great to picture the characters, and I'd say the writing was pretty accurate to the characters.
Excellent read! My first bout into fan fiction...and I think I liked it!
felicia_l's review against another edition
5.0
Probably the best book Peter David wrote for any Star Trek series. It answered the many questions behind the relationship of Commander Riker and Counselor Troi. (The sequel was just as compelling and wonderfully gave resolution to the Riker/Troi/Worf triangle with which the show had ended but wasn't answered in films or on DS9.) But this book was truly wonderful to read.
A friend of mine tried to read the sections in chronological order but gave up when she realized she was missing the essence of the work. I told her to just enjoy how it was written...and she did when she stopped her silliness.
I had the chance to meet Peter David in 2009 and have him sign my copy. He said this was one of his favorite pieces to do and he still likes to listen to the audiobook read by Jonathan Frakes (which I definitely need to get).
A friend of mine tried to read the sections in chronological order but gave up when she realized she was missing the essence of the work. I told her to just enjoy how it was written...and she did when she stopped her silliness.
I had the chance to meet Peter David in 2009 and have him sign my copy. He said this was one of his favorite pieces to do and he still likes to listen to the audiobook read by Jonathan Frakes (which I definitely need to get).
feliciaslibrary's review
2.0
2,5 stars ⭐️
”When your heart’s been cut out, how’s it going to feel knowing that you’re the one who wielded the knife?”
Imzadi was an alright (and quick) read, I guess. It felt very weird at some parts of it, and it didn’t help that the audiobook was somewhat difficult to understand sometimes. Idk if I’ll read the second books though.
(I would’ve probably liked it more if I had the paperback)
”When your heart’s been cut out, how’s it going to feel knowing that you’re the one who wielded the knife?”
Imzadi was an alright (and quick) read, I guess. It felt very weird at some parts of it, and it didn’t help that the audiobook was somewhat difficult to understand sometimes. Idk if I’ll read the second books though.
(I would’ve probably liked it more if I had the paperback)
ladyjedi's review against another edition
3.0
This is one of the best Star Trek novels, I have read. There are a lot of Star Trek novels, but only a few manage to distinguish themselves. And this is definitely one of those.