The first two-thirds were really fun and inventive. The writing wasn't strong, but the premise was so interesting and full of promise. But after awhile, Brin got carried away with ridiculous plot devices, page after page of "rapturous" self-indulgent monologue that ruined it. Too bad. ( )

This book has an absolutely awesome backdrop with wonderful characters.

Brin has enough great ideas and possibilities here for a half dozen novels, not just one.

In so many ways it's Brin at his best... but it's still not enough to save this one from being mediocre at best I'm afraid.

In pacing it really reminds me of his Earth novel. It starts out interesting but moderately paced, then around two thirds of the way through starts spiralling out, getting wilder and wilder.

In Earth, it worked. The craziness was still believable, and never completely threw you off the ride.

Here, it just doesn't work.

There's two things that make it impossible to hold on.

First, the ditto concept is the coolest part of the novel, and spotting the differences between the almost identical characters is part of the fun, but it's tough sledding at times. You often end up feeling lost. The result is a centre which just can't hold you through the insanity coming.

Part two, (and the biggest sin) is the weirdo plot progression. It starts out a detective novel, wanders into an honest to god multi-party conspiracy theory I still don't understand, then caps it all off with a convoluted theology section
that bears almost no resemblance to the rest of the novel.

I wanted to love this book, but it's neither fish nor fowl, bread nor wine. It's just a big mishmash painted on a gorgeous backdrop. ( )

128

Pretty dumb premise. More fantasy than sci-fi ( )

Dentro de cincuenta años, las nuevas copiadoras-horno permitirán hacer copias perecederas de las personas. Esas copias, los llamados "ídem", la gente de barro, tienen una vida prevista de un día, carecen de derechos legales o sociales, y son de diverso color según su función. Se les encargan las ocupaciones menos interesantes o las más peligrosas, todas las que rechazan los seres humanos verdaderos. Al final de su existencia, si es posible, los ídem "descargan" en su personaje original, el arquetipo o "archi", las memorias recopiladas de ese día.