Will Sargent rated Velvet: 4 stars

Velvet by Ed Brubaker (Velvet #1)
When the world's greatest secret agent is killed, all evidence points to Velvet Templeton, the personal secretary to the Director …
I like books.
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When the world's greatest secret agent is killed, all evidence points to Velvet Templeton, the personal secretary to the Director …
In a dystopian near-future, government is a quaint concept, resources are coveted, and possession is …
Generic post-apocalyptic oligarchy with a hot woman who is also an unkillable cyborg assassin.
Oh god this book is terrifying. It made me very aware that I have a brain made out of fallible meat parts, and that a small thing fucking up one of those meat parts would turn me into a raving lunatic. Which is exactly what happened to the author.
The book only exists because the damage is reversible, but the amazing thing is that once her disease is diagnosed, 200 people are found to be treatable. That means god knows how many women were living ordinary happy lives and then got sick and went mad from this disease, never knowing how or why.
So, guy reads the encyclopedia. Great idea for a book, right?
This guy is an idiot. And while he admits it frankly and spends most of the book trying to tell entertaining stories about his family and wife, he's not Mil Millington. He's boring. And this is the worst kind of journalistic exercise -- to do something completely pointless for a book, writing that into the book, and then writing how everyone is trying to talk you out of the book. You're never going to get any insight, there's not going to be an interesting discussion of intelligence or semantics or ontologies -- you're going to get an anecdote of how he got into Mensa by using his utterly privileged white-boy standard SAT scores, and then failed the actual test so badly they refunded his money and said it was better not to tell him how badly he did.
Made …
So, guy reads the encyclopedia. Great idea for a book, right?
This guy is an idiot. And while he admits it frankly and spends most of the book trying to tell entertaining stories about his family and wife, he's not Mil Millington. He's boring. And this is the worst kind of journalistic exercise -- to do something completely pointless for a book, writing that into the book, and then writing how everyone is trying to talk you out of the book. You're never going to get any insight, there's not going to be an interesting discussion of intelligence or semantics or ontologies -- you're going to get an anecdote of how he got into Mensa by using his utterly privileged white-boy standard SAT scores, and then failed the actual test so badly they refunded his money and said it was better not to tell him how badly he did.
Made it up to page 117.
Can't believe I missed this. It's a beautiful book, and as good as the Sandman #50 that Russell did. The depiction of Dream himself is beautiful (Russell goes the extra mile to depict images in his robes) and the Fox is appropriately foxy in all aspects.
Good. I found some of the stories fairly silly (I can't buy the idea of a living balloon child just wandering around waiting to get punctured) but the story about the boy who turned into a giant locust was nicely brutal.
Interesting, but I felt the character development was off, and it didn't feel like a book by someone who had lived in the Middle East for a long time -- it felt like a book written by an American with some source material. Also, as soon as the plot moves to America, it gets way too cute with naming (or not naming) politicians and terrorists.
This is a series of essays, and it doesn't have any overarching theme. As such, the result is mixed -- there are some good bits, and some awful bits. Some bits were good just from a historical perspective (i.e. the development of Sendmail) but overall it was not very enlightening.