Escape Velocity

A curated Collection of Fantasy and Science Fiction Media

Welcome to the Escape Velocity Collection!

We are an opinionated group of friends reviewing all sorts of fantasy and science fiction media. Don’t forget to get to know the curators and visit our curated Collection, where we discuss the stories that never cease to transport us to another world.

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Part 2 in the Radiant Emperor - Zhu Chongba having become Zhu Yuanzhang, the Radiant King, and shown her desire to the world, she must now find a way to take Dadu, the Yuan capital, and take the title of Great Khan for herself. She is not the only one fighting for this position, however. General Ouyang, the eunuch general who betrayed the Great Yuan, is still out for the ultimate revenge. Madame Zhang is looking for a means to put her husband - whoever he might at that time be - on the throne. And Wang Baoxiang, the new Prince of Henan, has dark plans of his own. As the power struggle in court and on the battlefield reaches a fever pitch, the question becomes: will it be worth all the sacrifices made along the way?
HeWhoDrownedTheWorldReview

Listened to the audiobook with Natalie Naudus again – would definitely recommend the experience to make China actually sound Chinese.

I was very enthousiastic about She Who Became the Sun, a book I randomly picked up because of the Hugo nomination. Ever since I’ve finished it, I have been recommending it left and right, in particular for its historically plausible inclusion of 21st-century themes in a book set in medieval China. I’ve had the sequel to She Who Became the Sun on my release radar ever since I finished the first book, and I loaded He Who Drowned the World into my player almost the moment it became available.

And it did not disappoint!

He Who Drowned the World is a lot darker than She Who Became the Sun, and by ‘a lot’ I mean a big lot. The first book has some negative themes, such as revenge and body dysphoria. And of course, Zhu will literally and figuratively kill to reach her fate. But Zhu is, on the whole, an optimist with a positive drive.

He Who Drowned the World, however…

The second book focusses on Wang Baoxiang, the new Prince of Henan – as a point of view character in addition to Zhu. And he is one of the most tormented characters I’ve ever read, with frightening self-loathing and purpose dripping off the pages . Reading his chapters filled me with equal measures of disgust, pity and awe. To think this is only Parker-Chan’s second book and already she has developed such finesse in making her character’s deepest, darkest thoughts feel true makes you almost dread what torment she will bring to her pages in the future.

I would compare the darkness of He Who Drowned the World to Joe Abercrombie’s writing, but Parker-Chan doesn’t mix in the black British humour that Abercrombie does, making the read a whole lot heavier.

The darkness Wang Baoxiang injects into the narrative fits well with the theme of this second book. A whole cast of characters, each with their own glowing mandate of heaven, is vying for the throne of the Great Khan. As they battle each other for the best position to take on the capital of Dadu, each in turn is confronted by the cost of their great desire. What are they willing to sacrifice to become Great Khan? What must they do to make it all worth it?

I think this is a great theme for a novel which really drives home the point that ‘no really, they are all the villain’. Each of the pretenders tears apart those around them and must leave something of themselves behind to reach that one goal. In a way, He Who Drowned the World fits the frame of a classic Shakespearian tragedy very well.

So Parker-Chan deserves the highest praise for her character writing. Does the rest of the book hold up?

Well, it’s probably not what you’re reading the series for, but it is not bad either. He Who Drowned the World has nothing of the classic comfort we all know from the first book in a fantasy series, but rather dives straight into the action, both at court and on the battlefield. Really though, all of the plot is strictly in service of the character arcs of the main characters; and while there are tense moments, they exist for the characters to doubt their conviction rather than for any real chance the plan will fall apart.

I would even go as far as to say that the book has a bit of a weak point in Zhu’s naval campaign, in which Zhu comes up with increasingly far fetched and unlikely clever tricks to beat an opponent that by rights should have defeated her easily. I realise it is Zhu’s trademark from She Who Became the Sun, but it really rubbed me the wrong way this time; it fits with the annoying Hollywood trope of medieval battles always being a mess without any sort of organisation, that end up being won through too-clever-by-half techniques that would not work in real life (think about it, if random balls of flaming whatever-it-is-Hollywood-special-effects-teams-love would have won battles in history, we would have sources telling us about them). I have always felt that it shows a lack of respect for the medieval mind to suppose that these people just failed to come up with these brilliant, battle-winning stratagems that writers behind their 21st century desks dream up.

That – very personal – rant aside, I really enjoyed He Who Drowned the World – I think I blasted through it in only four or five days (admittedly, I had a sowing project to get through). I think it’s grimdark tone means it may be less appealing to some than She Who Became the Sun. But I think the character writing is some of the best out there, and if you are not put off by a dark tale of mental, physical and sexual violence, He Who Drowned the World is a gripping read you won’t be able to put down.

Collection

Collected on: September 24th 2023

Collected: Primordia is a beautiful and atmospheric point-and-click-game, following the story of Horatio Nullbuilt, an android living in a crashed ship in the desert wasteland, who has his life turned upside down when a hostile robot steals his ship’s power core. Horatio is determined to scavenge the post-apocalyptic wasteland for a new core, but Crispin, his self-built sidekick, suggests that perhaps it would be easier to find one in Metropol, the city of glass and light…

Jop: Welcome to this in-depth, spoiler-free discussion of the video game Primordia, which our curator Peter has added to the Escape Velocity Collection, a series of items that we believe represent the absolute peak of what the speculative genre has to offer.

I challenged Peter to defend his addition to the Collection – why should everyone pick up this point-and-click pixel art game about robots?

Defended By

Peter

Semi-opposed by

Jop

Alright, to start things off… I’m already quite familiar with your history with Primordia, but let’s also bring our readers up to speed. When did you first play this game? And tell us – in a nutshell – why you’re one of the fiercest champions of this eleven year old game?

The first time I played this game was together with our shared friend Matt – I’m always a fan of playing these kinds of puzzle games together so you can bounce ideas off each other. I have really fond memories of trying to figure out some of the game’s challenges together. I remember I was on my bike cycling home and calling Matt to restart the game and try something because I had an epiphany – and it worked!

Since then, I’ve also played the game with/gifted the game to a bunch of other people, including my dad – and I’ve yet to find someone who didn’t like it.

I think Primordia does so well because (i) it is just a good point-and-click adventure, and (ii) because this simple pixel art indie game is perhaps the most atmospheric gaming experience I’ve ever encountered. The pixel art, the design, the music, the voice acting… It all works amazingly well, and you can get all that for just a couple of Euros. Who needs big 70 euros triple-AAA disasters upon launch if you can get lost in the world of Primordia?

Gameplay

We’ve already shared that Primordia is a point-and-click adventure game. This means that most of the gameplay can be summarized as “click on this object or that person to interact with it”. Most people wouldn’t consider this flashy or challenging, I believe.

That I’m not too picky about gameplay mechanics is already established, but I believe you’re usually more critical in this regard. If I remember it correctly, you didn’t care much for the point-and-click mechanics in Telltale’s The Walking Dead, for example. What did you think of these mechanics in Primordia?

Well, I think Primordia’s gameplay is probably best described as ‘good enough’, which seems faint praise but really, a point-and-click game kind of has a low ceiling when it comes to quality of gameplay. It is, more or less by definition, really simple. No, not all of the puzzles are equally intuitive, but most of them can be figured out within a couple of minutes of brainstorming. I don’t remember ever getting really stuck, or having to consult the all-knowing internet for a solution (also known as ‘cheating’).

What I like about Primordia (and, for that matter, Strangeland, Wormwood’s other point-and-click-game) is that the game recognises that the player might get stuck, and allows them an in-game mechanic for getting hints. In Primordia, that’s clicking your companion Crispin, who is generally not that bright (pun intended) so having to resort to him for help seems punishment enough in and off itself.

The existence of this mechanic also shows that the creators weren’t too bothered about the ‘challenge’ but encouraged players to keep moving in the story and explore more of the world.

You reference The Walking Dead, and while I liked that game, I remember experiencing more of a – fancy term incoming – ludo-narrative disconnect, that is to say, feeling like the player’s actions made little sense in the game world. The Walking Dead constantly puts the player in narratively time-sensitive situations that are not reflected in the gameplay. Similarly, the controls of The Walking Dead mirror those of a third person action game far more closely, while really not allowing for much action. Now, The Walking Dead is a far more cinematic type of game, so I suppose it all makes sense. But the result was that The Walking Dead put me in the mindset of an action game without actually delivering on that promise, while Primordia is just… utterly relaxing. The developers’ commentary to Primordia actually mentions their decision making process and choice not to include time-based gameplay in the game, and I couldn’t agree more with that decision.

You already briefly mentioned the puzzles and how they – or at least a majority of them – are not likely to make you smash your computer due to helplessness to solve a dilemma. I tend to agree, though I’m not ashamed to admit that some of them had me walk in circles for a long while before I thought of a way forward. Though I’m too stubborn a person to give up in those circumstances, I can imagine that a sparring partner or – as you call it – a little cheating might benefit others in retaining their sanity.

Something I think is worth mentioning in regards to the puzzles; some of them can have an impact on the game’s endings (yes, there are multiple possible endings in this game). I only discovered this after finishing the game, and when I spoke to you about it, even you seemed a little surprised. As I’m always a big fan of choice matters and different endings in games, I loved it. Still, one might argue that it’s somewhat unfair to block unwitting players from certain endings, depending on how they solved specific puzzles. What do you think of this feature?

I absolutely love it! I think it is a great example of the hidden depth in this seemingly simple game. I remember the first time I spoke to someone else who finished the game, and we were so confused, until we figured out it just hadn’t ended the same way for both of us.

Sure, most of the game will be more or less the same for everyone – but the fact that some things change – that you can get some things ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ without triggering a ‘game-over’-type fail state, the fact that you can (sometimes quite literally) short-circuit some of the puzzles but as a result might miss out on some lore or disappoint one of the characters – it all adds to the subtle feeling that the world is real and you’re not just clicking through some screens to get to the credits.

I’m not claiming that Primordia is a work of philosophy, but at times, the game asks some surprisingly ‘deep’ questions and I am glad the answers you give to some of those are reflected in the conclusion.

I don’t mind that it is not something you necessarily know about on your first playthrough – though I guess we’ve spoilered it here – but I think it helps prevent metagaming: people making certain choices not because of the choice but because of the ending they want to get to. If you’re going into a game like Primordia with that kind of mindset, trying to ‘optimise’ at every juncture, I think you might ruin the experience for yourself.

Setting and Art

A word that you (and I, for that matter) frequently use to describe this game is ‘atmospheric’. Can you elaborate what you mean by this? Primordia is neither the first nor the latest game that takes place in a post-apocalyptic setting. What makes this game stand out in your opinion?

I agree that the setting may sound unoriginal at first description – there are plenty of robot-survives-man-type post-apocalyptic stories out there (Sea of Rust immediately jumps to mind as a pretty similar example).

What makes Primordia special is not so much the premise as the execution. It looks gorgeous. Primordia is a modern pixel art game with a very limited blue-brown-orange colour palette: brown-orange for the desert and the rusted junk that makes up the world; blue for polished steel and the light emanating from power sources. The limited colours really unify the world and drive home a particular feeling of silent and slow decay. Simple rain animation makes a place like the junkyard really feel like the most dreary spot in the desert. Moreover, the design of all the machinery, with slightly weird, knobbly, almost jugendstil-ish vaguely organic rounded shapes is just phenomenal. Primordia really has its own, recognisable style that I’ve not found anywhere else. The game is so simple, and yet the world looks so good – perhaps the world looks so good because the game gives you plenty of time to look at it.

I also really like the sound design and voice acting. Horatio and Crispin’s banter is top notch, and so are some of the other characters (I love Ever-Faithful’s disappointed ‘but nay wanderer…’) You often hear haunting, tinny voices over the radio or record player to fill the silence, really adding to the vaguely unsettling post-apocalyptic world. The same goes for the music. I’ve listened to the soundtrack a thousand times, I think. It is this great mix of more creepy, heart-thumping music and really relaxing tunes that make you want to sit in that beautiful chair on top of the Unnic and go stargazing for an evening.

Characters

I would argue that Primordia is ultimately the story of one character, namely that of Horatio, the character the player gets to control. A hermit scavenger with a past that seems a mystery even to him. As the game progresses, you get the chance to discover more of his background and get a say in what Horatio’s future might look like.

It didn’t take long for me to grow fond of Horatio. His voice, gruff demeanour and cynical humour reminded me very much of The Witcher’s Geralt, and – as you already mentioned – his banter with sidekick Crispin is a delight to witness. But also, I was invested in his quest. Thematically, I would say his story revolves around the question if one can escape their past. Can we forge a new path forwards for ourselves? Or are we forever bound to our initial programming?

What do you think of Horatio as a protagonist? Do you agree with my analysis?

Hahaha, I can see some of why you would compare Horatio to Geralt, but I think we should manage expectations here – he is not as good-looking as Henry Cavill, and I feel like Horatio is a lot kinder than Geralt at heart. I feel like, if he didn’t have to, Horatio wouldn’t hurt a fly, wouldn’t meddle in anyone’s affairs, and would just sit on that chair I mentioned before and enjoy the quiet of the wasteland. If S.C.R.A.P.E.R. hadn’t interfered, none of the game would have happened and he and Crispin would still happily be tinkering away at the UNNIC.

Who wouldn't want to chill in this chair, gazing at the moon?

I suppose that is at least a part of why I was so engaged with Horatio’s struggle with his past. Without giving too much away, I don’t think Horatio likes what he learns about himself very much. And yet, like Horatio himself, the player is driven by a sort of inevitable curiosity to find out more. Again, I don’t want to spoil too much, but I think that the players gets to answer some of the questions you mention – whether you can be free of the past – themselves in the final sequences. But I really shouldn’t say more.

Do you have any thought about the other characters and/or their role in the narrative? I suspect you’re dying to profess your love for Crispin a little more?

Yeah, I love Crispin. <3 He is the best, the very best. I wish I could hug him. I would seriously consider building a life-sized Crispin just to have him around in my life and encourage me with snarky lines on his lack of arms and occasionally not too bright comments.

Crispin is love. Crispin is life

Which actually makes me think. Wouldn’t a Primordia cosplay be AMAZING? I think it would actually be doable, though Horatio with his long coat and hood would be a lot easier than Clarity or some of the other characters. S.C.R.A.P.E.R. is just a box with arms, basically. I guess you’d have to find a dog or someone willing to crawl on all fours to be Ever Faithful… That’d be a project. It’d just be a pity that probably no-one would recognise who you were… which is a damn shame because they should all be playing Primordia!

Conclusion

And there you have it folks! In summary, Primordia is a charming point-and-click adventure game with enchanting pixel art, interesting puzzles and cute though sassy robots. A wonderfully efficient game in all aspects. Is there anything you want to add to this, Peter?

Just one thing: when in doubt, plasma torch.

Fair enough, now you all know. Go and play Primordia!

Reviewed by:

The Owl House is an animation series in which teenager Luz accidentally steps through a portal to the magical world of The Boiling Isles. Here she becomes an apprentice to the witch Eda, and gradually discovers the hidden strengths within herself and others. What's wrong with being weird?

When Jasmijn and I started watching The Owl House only a few weeks ago at the time of writing this review – I mostly expected an animation series with a typical “some plot and a lot of filler episodes”-structure, quirky humour and some likeable characters. What I got was a unique fantasy/horror comedy setting with deep lore, many character-driven subplots and an impeccable pacing. And then I haven’t even mentioned the strong cast of characters!

The Owl House has a compelling main plot with plenty of mysteries and a main antagonist that suits the central themes of the story: the importance and beauty of wholly being yourself and the legitimacy of found families. Each character explores these themes in different yet interesting ways. Sure, I have a specific fondness for these kinds of stories, but I think the quality of the writing and humour make The Owl House especially accessible. Additionally, the cast represents so many different identities! Best of all, unlike in real life, never are these identities a part of the characters’ issues. Sure, they have struggles, personal goals and difficult people they have to deal with. However, things like their sexual preference or gender identity are never controversial. This kind of representation is still rare in media nowadays, but a treat to behold. And remember, this is Disney production. The creators had to fight for every crumb of LGBTQ+ representation. To name a few examples of the diversity that are canon and actually visible… We have a Latina bisexual female protagonist. A cool mentor character that suffers from a magical interpretation of a chronic illness. An older non-binary character using they/them pronouns. Asexual characters, lesbian characters, characters that have two dads, genderqueer characters etc. It’s an universal story.

I would also like to very much praise the art and animation of this series. Though I wasn’t immediately sold on the aesthetics of the Boiling Isles setting, I quickly came to appreciate how it fits the worldbuilding and main themes. Also, there were multiple action/fighting scenes that really had me excited because of the smooth animation!

Unfortunately, many wonderful series get cancelled too quickly. Series that have important stories to tell and the right loveable yet complex characters to tell them with. The Owl House is definitely one of these series. Luckily, the creators still got the chance to end things in a satisfactory way.

I can honestly say this show will forever be one of my comfort go-to’s. #Lumity

Reviewed by:

Part 3 in the Mars Trilogy - With the terraformation of Mars well underway and the Earth recovering from a series of apocalyptic floods that reshuffled the deck of power, tensions between the planets start to rise as overpopulated Terra views the the unsettled lands of Mars with jealous eyes. Once more, the members of the First 100 must play their part in the politics that ensue to save the Red Planet from a wave of Terran imigration that will swamp the ambitious Utopian project on Mars.
BlueMarsReview

Listened to the audiobook with Richard Ferrone – narration fits with the book really well.

Blue Mars continues the evolution of the Mars-trilogy: from the intra-group politics of Red Mars, to the Martian politics of Green Mars, Blue Mars now brings us interplanetary politics involving not just the Earth and Mars, but the inhabitants of the rest of the solar system as well.

Interestingly, with the increasing scope of the narrative, it felt as if Robinson was able to let go of the need to describe every stage in the story. Instead, Blue Mars returns to more of a patchwork of separate stories that are actually much closer to some of the characters in the story. As a result, even though the book covers a lot more time and space than the previous works, it feels at least as character-driven as Red Mars.

Blue Mars is also a lot more diverse than either Red or Green. As Mars undergoes terraformation, its climate and biosphere grow more robust and varied – and so the action doesn’t just take place on red desert or white ice, but on biotopes nearly as diverse as those on Earth. In addition, without giving away more than necessary, Blue Mars takes some of our main characters off-planet on expeditions to places familiar and new. All in all, not a page of the book feels stale, or a rehash of what the trilogy has done before.

That being said, this is still the Mars-trilogy, with its trademark deep dives into areology (that is to say, the geology of Mars), sociology, politics and, in Blue Mars, even the biochemistry of memory and a little string theory (I am not making this up!). And if you’ve gotten to this point in the trilogy without giving up, I am sure you’ll enjoy those tangents too!

If you’ve read the first two books, you’ll know what to expect: a novel that puts the science in science fiction, while intimately close to a set of characters that are each struggling with their relationships to those around them, and with their role in the colonisation of Mars.

Above all else, Blue Mars is a very satisfying conclusion to an ambitious trilogy, and a cli-fi novel that wrests a hopeful ending from the jaws of realism – perhaps that final achievement alone makes it worthy of the 1997 Hugo!

Reviewed by:

Earth is no longer habitable, and humanity must find new planets to terraform. The crew of the Gilgamesh has its sights set on one such planet. What they don’t know is that the planet isn’t the new Eden they are expecting. Meanwhile, a new species has made the planet their home. Who will inherit the new Earth? Humanity, or the species that has been living there for thousands of years?

Children of Time is one of those books that so many people recommended to me that at some point it just had to skip to the front of my shelf of shame, despite that fact that Tchaikovsky’s Dogs of War fell in the decidedly meh-category for me.

So the question is: why the hype, and did Children of Time live up to it?

I think the hype mostly comes from the fact that Children of Time is very original. It’s just new. It does things you can’t find elsewhere in science fiction.

Children of Time features an ambitious long-timelines evolutionary narrative that is not only very interesting in its worldbuilding, but somehow also manages to stay interesting on a plot level.

And then the novel combines that one narrative, that will take countless years to cook properly, and combines it with another narrative of humans in-and-out of cryosleep on a colony ship – which skips through the same amount of time featuring a single, continuous set of characters.

The setup takes a couple of sci-fi handwaves to work, but I’m all aboard with that for such a clever idea. This story structure addresses some of the typical issues with stories with far horizons (Asimov’s Foundation comes to mind) in that the human characters, with whom the reader is supposed to bond and who are ultimately what draw the reader into the story, necessarily can’t survive long enough to make it into the next chapter.

Tchaikovsky’s clever structure alone is probably enough to make this book worth reading. But the hype does not lie – both halves of the narrative are also independently good.

The spider half of the story (wait, what? Yes, a spider-half of the story), focusing on biological and cultural evolution, moves at breakneck speed and may strain your suspense of disbelief at times, but it is always interesting and surprisingly suspenseful given the shifting main characters.

The human half of the story initially appears more traditional, but as the narrative progresses and the insanity of living in short bursts over the centuries on a cramped space ship ramps up, it takes a turn for the surreal and ended up reminding me of the post-apocalyptic psychedelic ride that is Metro 2033.

If that doesn’t pique your interest, then I don’t know what will.

Is there anything negative to say about Children of Time? I think it would be that Tchaikovsky’s style is to focus on the interesting ideas more than on how they work – I saw Lotte mentioned Children of Time fitting the ‘hard sci-fi’ category and I have to give that a hard disagree – its not as soft as some space opera, but artificial gravity fields? Human consciousness uploads? Rapid evolution virus that recognises other bearers of the virus? Stuff like that is borderline magic, and while I don’t have a problem with it per se, Tchaikovsky leans on it a lot. But as long as you don’t go into it with the wrong expectation, that should not keep you from enjoying Children of Time.

One final thought – which some may consider a spoiler and some may not, so read at your own peril – is that Children of Time shares a very negative perception of humanity with Dogs of War, with both novels eventually settling on the conclusion that humanity needs to be ‘redeemed’ or ‘improved’ by some outside factor. I don’t mind a bit of moralising, but the ending of both novels was frustrating to me because Tchaikovsky is telling us we’re not good enough, but in neither case his suggested improvement is something that we have. I guess I’ll just have to take it metaphorically.

I got this book as a present from my dad. Whenever I get gifted a book, I try not to look at the summary on the back and just go in blind. That’s what I did with Children of Time.

All I knew going in was that it was a Sci-Fi story about evolution. And it was! Children of Time is unlike most novels precisely because of this focus on evolution. While we do follow a couple of specific characters from the start to the end of the book, this is only the case for one half of the cast: the humans. The other half of the cast are spiders.

It feels a bit like a spoiler to say that in a review, but I feel that it’s extremely relevant because of two reasons. One: if you hate spiders, as many people do, this book may not be for you. However, the second reason is that Children of Time is a fascinating exploration of what a society of spiders may look like, had they evolved in a similar way to humans.

I’m not a huge fan of spiders myself. I like the idea of them, but I like to keep some distance between us, generally. However, I really enjoyed the spider chapters in Children of Time. They offer some extremely fun world-building and surprisingly believable characters.

I wasn’t as much of a fan of the characters on the human side, but the writing was solid and both sides of the story made sense, in a way. I think it would be easy in a story like this to paint one side as the “bad guys” which doesn’t really happen here.

One thing I wasn’t counting on but I feel I should warn readers for is the fact that this is part of a series. It’s definitely readable as a stand-alone, and the ending is satisfying enough for me (though I can also imagine people disagreeing very strongly on this). Still, around halfway through I started to feel like I was reading a prequel for another story. It’s very much a story of “how we ended up in this situation”. I was expecting the ship to land at some point, and for there to be genuine conflict between the spiders and the humans, but that’s not really what this book is about. Children of Time focuses mostly on the evolution of the spiders, and the struggles of humanity trying to survive in a time where Earth is no longer inhabitable.

While I really did enjoy this book, I didn’t find myself running to the store to buy the sequel. Most of the story is neatly tied up at the end of the book, albeit very hastily. I’m still unsure whether I think that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Overall I would definitely recommend Children of Time! Especially if you like Hard Science Fiction, good world-building and, of course, spiders.

Part 1 in the Children of Mother Earth Trilogy - Following the nuclear apocalypse of World War III and a resulting shift in the Earth’s axis, the formerly ice-covered island of Greenland has turned into the lush paradise of Thule. Its inhabitants are determined to build a society that will not devolve into the violent cauldron of pollution and hatred that was 21st century civilisation. Pacifistic, matriarchal, and deliberately not-industrialised, the culture of Thule rejects everything that led to the destruction of the previous world order. But when Thule is ‘discovered’ by steam-powered warship from the Badener Empire that arose out of the ashes of former Europe, all of Thule’s beliefs are challenged.
KinderenVanMoederAardeReview

Tonke Dragt may have written my favourite Dutch children’s book of all time, but when I was younger, Thea Beckman was my favourite author. She is best known for her amazing children’s historical fiction, ranging in setting from the crusades all the way to the renaissance.

Fascinatingly, she also penned the Children of Mother Earth Trilogy of post-apocalyptic science fiction novels, which may actually be some of her best works. I am honestly distraught that they apparently haven’t been translated into English – I just assumed they would be available but apparently they’ve only been translated into German and Hungarian. So our apologies to English-speaking readers!

Children of Mother Earth is the first novel in the trilogy, and spends a lot of time describing the society of Thule. In doing so, Beckman paints a utopian picture of an alternative way to run a society, clearly intended for readers to start questioning the cultures that they themselves live in.

Though originally written in 1985, I feel the message in Children of Mother Earth is no less relevant and no less important nearly 40 years later. Even though Beckman’s apocalypse was cause by nuclear war instead of climate change, Children of Mother Earth is way ahead of its time in many ways – it feels like Beckman wrote a cli-fi novel and a solarpunk utopia, both avant la lettre.

One element in particular that was a relevant in 1985 as it is today is Beckman’s foray into the role of gender in society. In particular, Children of Mother Earth is great at challenging masculinity and femininity, and provides role models for both male and female characters with more masculine and more feminine traits.

Finally, Children of Mother Earth does a great job of describing the difficulties of intercultural communication. The reader is constantly identifying with both the protagonists and the antagonists, bouncing back and forth between them as they try to understand each other’s customs.

And alongside all of these great educational qualities, Children of Mother Earth is also just a great novel, with lovable characters, set in a heart-achingly beautiful country, with moments of great tension as well as interpersonal drama, constantly thought-provoking but never tedious. Even if you’ve never given these books a shot as a child, I found Children of Mother Earth highly enjoyable as an adult. And if you have children in their early teens…

Review: He Who Drowned the World – Shelley Parker Chan

Part 2 in the Radiant Emperor – Zhu Chongba having become Zhu Yuanzhang, the Radiant King, and shown her desire to the world, she must now find a way to take Dadu, the Yuan capital, and take the title of Great Khan for herself. She is not the only one fighting for this position, however. General Ouyang, the eunuch general who betrayed the Great Yuan, is still out for the ultimate revenge. Madame Zhang is looking for a means to put her husband – whoever he might at that time be – on the throne. And Wang Baoxiang, the new Prince of Henan, has dark plans of his own. As the power struggle in court and on the battlefield reaches a fever pitch, the question becomes: will it be worth all the sacrifices made along the way?

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Collected: Primordia by Wormwood Studios

COLLECTION: Primordia is a beautiful and atmospheric point-and-click-game, following the story of Horatio Nullbuilt, an android living in a crashed ship in the desert wasteland, who has his life turned upside down when a hostile robot steals his ship’s power core. Horatio is determined to scavenge the post-apocalyptic wasteland for a new core, but Crispin, his self-built sidekick, suggests that perhaps it would be easier to find one in Metropol, the city of glass and light…

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Review: The Owl House – Dana Terrace

The Owl House is an animation series in which teenager Luz accidentally steps through a portal to the magical world of The Boiling Isles. Here she becomes an apprentice to the witch Eda, and gradually discovers the hidden strengths within herself and others. What’s wrong with being weird?

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Review: Blue Mars – Kim Stanley Robinson

Part 3 in the Mars Trilogy – With the terraformation of Mars well underway and the Earth recovering from a series of apocalyptic floods that reshuffled the deck of power, tensions between the planets start to rise as overpopulated Terra views the the unsettled lands of Mars with jealous eyes. Once more, the members of the First 100 must play their part in the politics that ensue to save the Red Planet from a wave of Terran imigration that will swamp the ambitious Utopian project on Mars.

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Review: Children of Time – Adrian Tchaikovsky

Earth is no longer habitable, and humanity must find new planets to terraform. The crew of the Gilgamesh has its sights set on one such planet. What they don’t know is that the planet isn’t the new Eden they are expecting. Meanwhile, a new species has made the planet their home. Who will inherit the new Earth? Humanity, or the species that has been living there for thousands of years?

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Review: Children of Mother Earth/Kinderen van Moeder Aarde – Thea Beckman

Part 1 in the Children of Mother Earth Trilogy – Following the nuclear apocalypse of World War III and a resulting shift in the Earth’s axis, the formerly ice-covered island of Greenland has turned into the lush paradise of Thule. Its inhabitants are determined to build a society that will not devolve into the violent cauldron of pollution and hatred that was 21st century civilisation. Pacifistic, matriarchal, and deliberately not-industrialised, the culture of Thule rejects everything that led to the destruction of the previous world order. But when Thule is ‘discovered’ by steam-powered warship from the Badener Empire that arose out of the ashes of former Europe, all of Thule’s beliefs are challenged.

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