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I'm not sure why this series isn't better known. This book is probably the weakest of the trilogy, but it's a worthy read nonetheless.
Occasionally, you're forcefully reminded that you're reading a book by the son of a very famous smart person, like here:
Occasionally, you're forcefully reminded that you're reading a book by the son of a very famous smart person, like here:
First, I found my old papers. Projects, tests, reports. Some truly awful poetry comparing my heart to a dying rose. Worse, I’d rhymed solidified with thalidomide and impetigo with Venus de Milo. Embarrassing. And it didn’t even relate to the assignment. Maestro had but one comment, marked in red: “What does this have to do with Thomas Jefferson?”