I’ve writtenthreeposts over the past few weeks exploring lessons I’ve learned about customer service through a variety of past jobs and experiences, as well as from my more recent years as a public librarian. I’ve spent a lot of time lately looking back over my working life and mining it for all the wisdom I can.
This review was first published by Booklist on May 29, 2018.
In Rogue Protocol, the third (after Artificial Condition, 2018) of Wells’ Murderbot Diaries, Murderbot is on a mission to find evidence to bring down the GrayCris Corporation for good. His journey takes him beyond the Corporate Rim to a derelict terraforming station that hides a secret. Once again, he must protect a human crew, and when his secret identity as a rogue SecUnit is threatened, he has to decide whom he can trust. As always, the story is fast-paced and action-packed, colored by Murderbot’s acerbic commentary throughout. Though the main character remains as appealing as ever, this entry in the series feels less substantial, less happens, the plot and secondary characters are less complex, and there’s more exposition filling the pages. It’s clear the primary purpose of this book is to set the stage for the next one. On its own merits, Rogue Protocol doesn’t quite live up to the first two books in the series, but readers will be thrumming with excitement for what comes next.
[AUTHOR’S NOTE: Reading through this now, I realize I used the incorrect pronoun for Murderbot throughout this review. I don’t know how I slipped up on it—I used the correct pronoun in both of my reviews for Artificial Condition and Exit Strategy. I regret the error but I also need to reproduce the review as it was published by Booklist.]
This review was first published by Booklist on May 22, 2018.
Westfahl (Science Fiction Quotations, 2005) offers a well-considered reevaluation of Arthur C. Clarke’s legacy, tracing broad topics and contradicting some commonly held beliefs. For example, although many separate Clarke’s technical sf from his quasi-mystical imaginings, Westfahl shows it to all be of a piece: near-future technology is relatively comprehensible to modern readers, whereas far-future technology would be so far beyond our comprehension as to appear magical—a logical conclusion. His analysis is most valuable in its scope, ranging beyond Clarke’s major works and considering his myriad stories, his less successful novels, his nonfiction, and even his juvenilia. Where this book fails is in its attempts to grapple with Clarke as a person. Clarke was a deeply private man, and there’s little evidence to consider about his life beyond his published works. Westfahl tries too hard to read too much significance into what little evidence there is. It’s a bit abstruse for anyone unfamiliar with Clarke’s work, and it verges on hagiography at times. Still, a worthy analysis of an important sf writer.
I was asked recently what my customer service philosophy is. I responded with this:
The customer isn’t always right but they’re usually not wrong.
What do I mean by that?
I mean that some behavior is simply unacceptable. Customers don’t have the right to abuse staff, to expect preferential treatment, to demand we make exceptions just for them. Basic human decency and respect are still required. I won’t tolerate threats to the safety of staff members.
However, in my experience, when someone is acting out there’s usually a reason for it. There’s usually a need or a want that isn’t being met—and that need or want is usually legitimate. Problematic behavior arises when someone can’t figure out how to get what they need or want. And while the behavior may be a problem, this underlying reason can be productively addressed.
This review was first published by Booklist on May 15, 2018.
**STARRED REVIEW** Machine intelligences rule most of the world, human governments are rapidly losing their power, a war-ravaged U.S. is on the brink of descending into chaos, and a mysterious new plague is on the loose. In Chicago, one man finds himself at the nexus of a complex web of secrets that threatens to upend the world as we know it. This debut novel beautifully combines a postapocalyptic man-versus-machine conflict and a medical thriller. The world is immersive and detailed, the characters have depth, the writing is assured, the plotting intelligent, and the pacing about perfect. McAulty’s take on how AI might evolve gives the premise a unique twist. The story is action-packed, starting with a boom (literally) and driving you along from one crisis to the next. The action rarely lets up, yet it never becomes tiresome. The exposition gets a bit heavy-handed at times, but not enough to slow things down. There are intriguing details of this world that McAulty teases but never fully reveals, and that builds anticipation for his next books. This is thrilling, epic sf.
Still, it bothers me when people critique Poet Voice primarily by comparing it to regular conversational voice. Poetry shouldn’t be treated like normal speech—it’s an elevated use of language and recitation should reflect that. Poetic recitation should be more performative, more crafted, distinct from casual conversation. Each word of a poem is significant and must be heard and understood.
The problem isn’t that Poet Voice is unnatural or different from conversational voice. The problem is that Poet Voice is boring.
Some years ago, when I was still doing theater work in Chicago, I had gotten off a job late one night and found myself craving a pint of ice cream. So I stopped by a corner market on my way home. Another gentleman—a complete stranger to me—arrived at the same time I did. We approached the door just in time to see the proprietor throw the lock and change the sign to “Closed”. He shrugged at us, pointed to the sign listing the store’s hours, and walked off.
I was disappointed and somewhat miffed. The other guy proceeded to throw a spectacular tantrum.
I stood there nonplussed, unsure what to do. Once this strange man had stopped yelling and stomping around, I asked him, “Are you OK?” (Inane question, I know—clearly he wasn’t—but it was late and I was tired and hungry.)
He proceeded to tell me a Tale of Woe for the Ages. All about his terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, very bad week, very bad month. Everything that could go wrong in this guy’s life had gone wrong. All he wanted now was some potato chips—crunchy bites of salty comfort. Is that too much to ask?
So I took him to a local bar and bought him a beer.
He apologized for making such a scene. He knew it was a ridiculous overreaction. I assured him I totally understood. And I did understand: for me, having the door locked in my face was annoying. For him, it was ONE MORE THING in a long line of crappy things that had happened to him lately.