Scan barcode
A review by ethias
Children of Time by Adrian Tchaikovsky
5.0
What can I even say about this book? This book made me think of things I had never even considered before. This book gave me a new respect and love for spiders and other creatures that I have always harbored a great fear for. I loved it. It was inspiring and heart wrenching and tragic and hopeful. I’m utterly impressed.
My only real complaint is that it was a bit of a slow read, I had a hard time keeping myself going a few times, and it took quite a bit of energy to read just because of the nature of its topic and style.
I don’t think I will ever get over this book. I will be thinking about this for years if not for the rest of my life. I’m very glad I picked this up and stuck through to the end of this journey.
I have copied below my favorite passage for my own remembrance:
pg 439-440
“”So, tell me?” Holstein broached to them. “Tell me who you really are. You!” He pointed at not-Ailen. “Who are you? What happened to the real Ailen that you’re wearing her skin— clothes, her clothes?” He could feel a deep craziness trying to shake itself loose inside him. This crowd of serious well-mannered people in stolen shipsuits was beginning to frighten him more than the mutineers, more than the ragged robes of the cultists. And why was it always like this? “What’s wrong with us?” And only from their expressions did he realize that he had just spoken aloud, but the words wouldn’t stop. “What is it about us that we cannot live together in this fucking eggshell ship without tearing at each other? That we have to try and control one another and lie to one another and hurt one another? Who are you that you’re telling me where I have to be and what to do? What are you doing to the poor Gilgamesh? Where did all you freaks come from?” The last came out as a shriek that appalled Holsten, because something in him seemed to have snapped beyond any control or repair. For a moment he stared at his audience of the young and alien, with his mouth open, everyone including himself waiting to see if more words would be forthcoming. Instead he could feel the shape of his mouth deforming and twisting, and sobs starting to claw and suck at his chest. It was too much. It has been too much. He, who had translated the madness of a millennia-old guardian angle. He who had been abducted. He who had seen an alien world crawling with earthly horrors. He had feared. He had loved. He had met a man who wanted to be God. He had seen death.
It had been a rough few weeks. The universe had been given centuries to absorb the shock, but not him. He had been woken and pounded, woken and pounded, and the rigid stasis of suspension offered him no capacity to recover his balance.”
My only real complaint is that it was a bit of a slow read, I had a hard time keeping myself going a few times, and it took quite a bit of energy to read just because of the nature of its topic and style.
I don’t think I will ever get over this book. I will be thinking about this for years if not for the rest of my life. I’m very glad I picked this up and stuck through to the end of this journey.
I have copied below my favorite passage for my own remembrance:
pg 439-440
“”So, tell me?” Holstein broached to them. “Tell me who you really are. You!” He pointed at not-Ailen. “Who are you? What happened to the real Ailen that you’re wearing her skin— clothes, her clothes?” He could feel a deep craziness trying to shake itself loose inside him. This crowd of serious well-mannered people in stolen shipsuits was beginning to frighten him more than the mutineers, more than the ragged robes of the cultists. And why was it always like this? “What’s wrong with us?” And only from their expressions did he realize that he had just spoken aloud, but the words wouldn’t stop. “What is it about us that we cannot live together in this fucking eggshell ship without tearing at each other? That we have to try and control one another and lie to one another and hurt one another? Who are you that you’re telling me where I have to be and what to do? What are you doing to the poor Gilgamesh? Where did all you freaks come from?” The last came out as a shriek that appalled Holsten, because something in him seemed to have snapped beyond any control or repair. For a moment he stared at his audience of the young and alien, with his mouth open, everyone including himself waiting to see if more words would be forthcoming. Instead he could feel the shape of his mouth deforming and twisting, and sobs starting to claw and suck at his chest. It was too much. It has been too much. He, who had translated the madness of a millennia-old guardian angle. He who had been abducted. He who had seen an alien world crawling with earthly horrors. He had feared. He had loved. He had met a man who wanted to be God. He had seen death.
It had been a rough few weeks. The universe had been given centuries to absorb the shock, but not him. He had been woken and pounded, woken and pounded, and the rigid stasis of suspension offered him no capacity to recover his balance.”