The overall tone of the book was depressingly gloomy, as is the cover. But what really annoyed me was the amount of gratiuitous sexual content and references to sex, some of it alluding to violent sex, some verging on the erotic. Sorry, but I don't read SF to learn about a squad of elite berserkers who have violent sex with each other every night, an activity encouraged by their leaders.
What really bugs me is that this book was written by a woman, and edited by a woman, both of whom have been involved in decrying the lack of representation for women in the SF genre. Sorry, but if your solution to that problem is to write and publish books about sexual apocalypse, count me out. I'm more likely to write about an apocalypse that occurs because a woman can't be corrupted that way.
I'm kicking around several ideas for stories where women rulers simply can't be affected by the promise of sex, where "fluff-head" women turn out to be totally immune to any kind of sexual flattery. But the thing is, if this kind of sexual apocalypse is what the market thinks it wants, do I stand a hope in hell's chance of ever getting those stories published? Sometimes I despair when I ask that question, as I suspect the answer is 'no'.
But there is one thing I can do. I can refuse to nominate this book, or any other with a sexual apocalypse in its pages, for any awards. And I can refuse to buy or read any more books by this author. I can refuse to send my energy her way, and focus on finding and supporting storytellers with more positive messages.
Wendy Metcalfe is the author of Panthera : Death Spiral and Panthera : Death Song, and the short story collection Otherlives. Find out more at www.wendymetcalfe.com