A review by eishe
Beacon 23 by Hugh Howey
5.0
I thought the premise of space lighthouses was really cool. However, this book isn't about lighthouses.
Instead it's [b:Starship Troopers|17214|Starship Troopers|Robert A. Heinlein|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1533117961l/17214._SY75_.jpg|2534973] meets [b:The Martian|18007564|The Martian|Andy Weir|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1413706054l/18007564._SY75_.jpg|21825181] meets [b:Ender's Game|375802|Ender's Game (Ender's Saga, #1)|Orson Scott Card|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1408303130l/375802._SY75_.jpg|2422333], but with a Hugh Howey spin. I was expecting space-crazy, instead I got war, PTSD, depression and so much more.
This book is filled with amazing tidbits about humans, computers, mental health and everything in between. Also some very dark and depressing humour, that just speaks to me. Here are my favorite parts (slight mood spoilers ahead):
Computers:
Positivism:
Memories:
Dark humour:
Sundays:
Instead it's [b:Starship Troopers|17214|Starship Troopers|Robert A. Heinlein|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1533117961l/17214._SY75_.jpg|2534973] meets [b:The Martian|18007564|The Martian|Andy Weir|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1413706054l/18007564._SY75_.jpg|21825181] meets [b:Ender's Game|375802|Ender's Game (Ender's Saga, #1)|Orson Scott Card|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1408303130l/375802._SY75_.jpg|2422333], but with a Hugh Howey spin. I was expecting space-crazy, instead I got war, PTSD, depression and so much more.
This book is filled with amazing tidbits about humans, computers, mental health and everything in between. Also some very dark and depressing humour, that just speaks to me. Here are my favorite parts (slight mood spoilers ahead):
Computers:
I’m here because they haven’t made a computer yet that won’t do something stupid one time out of a hundred trillion. Seems like good odds, but when computers are doing trillions of things a day, that means a whole lot of stupid.
Positivism:
I’m a chipper guy, once you get to know the raw, dark dread and petrified fear that lurks in my breast and that I battle with every waking moment and that sometimes has me sobbing into my palms when no one is around and makes it really hard to be in crowds or to stand any loud sounds and has me thinking I’ll probably never be in a functional relationship again, platonic or otherwise.
Memories:
It’s like a human body at age thirty-five, when not a single original cell is left. All that remains are the memories—the one damn thing we wish we could amputate.
Dark humour:
I should mention here that I really don’t like guns pointed at my head. Not unless I’m the one doing the pointing.
Sundays:
I hated Sundays as a kid. From the moment I woke up, I could feel Monday looming, could feel another school week all piled up and ready to smother me. How was I supposed to enjoy a day of freedom while drowning in dread like that? It was impossible. A pit would form in my chest and gut—this indescribable emptiness that I knew should be filled with fun, but instead left me casting about for something to do.
Knowing I should be having fun was a huge part of the problem. Knowing that this was a rare day off, a welcome reprieve, and here I was miserable and fighting against it. Maybe this was why Fridays at school were better than Sundays not in school. I was happier doing what I hated, knowing a Saturday was coming, than I was on a perfectly free Sunday with a Monday right around the corner.