This would be a 3-star review if the book had to stand on its own merits, but I got extra enjoyment from this as a history lesson on Morrow's writing style. Morrow remains one of my favorite authors, but, eesh, his older stuff is kind of rough. There's just so much gratuitous cruft. This doesn't need to be a science-fiction novel with spaceships, star-sphincters, random planets, or laser scalpels. It especially doesn't need to be the kind of sci-fi that includes a bunch of made-up words like "jungjelly", "incubibers", or (ugh) "thoughtwriter".It would have worked great as a piece of historical fiction where film is the medium in question. More recent Morrow books have followed that track: taking a realistic world and changing just enough take make the premise work. For added benefit, doing so would have made the disappointing Shambling Towards Hiroshima unnecessary.All that said: I enjoyed the book plenty. Despite the first chapter "spoiling" the ending, I remained in suspense, in part because I know Morrow has a black heart and no soul and will torture his characters as needed. The characters were rather predictable but entertaining. And the imagery worked. And I miiiiight be channeling the main character as I write this review.
