What do you think?
The Space Egg
Monarch Books, 1962. First paperback edition. Alien invasion!
140 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1958
About the author
Russ Winterbotham
62 books1 followerRussell Robert Winterbotham (1904-1971) was a writer of western and science fiction genre fiction, and the author of several Big Little Books under the name R. R. Winterbotham. He also wrote crime under the pen names J. Harvey Bond and Franklin Hadley.
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Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews
July 31, 2022
I feel so sorry for this book. it could have had such an expansive story but there were too many moments where I just felt like I was ramming my head into a wall
September 9, 2023
What a terrible book. An entire story based on nothing but random assumptions and jumping to conclusions based on nothing … but two eggs and someone being a jerk. And the only thing I learnt was that when an alien being of sorts wants to murder you … there is always time for lunch.
Read
February 8, 2024The Space Egg is perhaps the finest title for a science fiction novel I have ever come across in all my years as a reader, with fantastic cover art on my paperback edition and a tagline promising “Mysterious indestructible eggs, threatening mankind.” A winning formula, but fate does not always make it so.
The novel is best compared to a cheap sci-fi b-movie, and that is not meant as a compliment. I began hamming the characters up in my head, to give it a vibe of something more entertaining, but there was no life there to breath into such flat personas, bounced around by a story so contrived it moves beyond the pale at times.
Events happen, not much of interest, and often off screen (so to speak), so those events must be relayed by a generic Mr Scientist who usually spouts wild speculation that inexplicably happens to be right on the money. Within the last 15 or so pages, we are treated to a lengthy exposition on the science behind the mysterious space eggs, dry and nonsensical and stopping any kind of narrative build the book had going dead in its tracks. I do wonder if this is not just an attempt at filling out the word count in so slim and frail a volume.
In a tale with such artificial characters, mere roles rather than people, the narrative becomes just a series of hoops for the archetypes to jump through. Stilted prose and canned dialogue drown any kind of charm the novel might’ve had, and it’s little worth the mercifully short read.
Perhaps The Space Egg’s greatest issue is the treatment of the only two women in the novel, who have less depth than an ice patch on a flat road, a poorly constructed pair of misogynistic ideals of femininity who are reduced to story objects, driving a conflict that is ultimately about which male gets to mate with them. A mere lack of agency in the male characters is truly absent here, as the women have none of it.
To put a damper on it even more, there are barely any space eggs! Only two appear, and quickly become utterly secondary to the main threat, doing their job and afterwards only serving to offer an opportunity for more ludicrous technobabble to appear. While my dream of “mysterious indestructible eggs, threatening mankind’ was technically fulfilled, the result is so gobshite awful that I cannot find The Space Egg anything other than abhorrent.
The novel is best compared to a cheap sci-fi b-movie, and that is not meant as a compliment. I began hamming the characters up in my head, to give it a vibe of something more entertaining, but there was no life there to breath into such flat personas, bounced around by a story so contrived it moves beyond the pale at times.
Events happen, not much of interest, and often off screen (so to speak), so those events must be relayed by a generic Mr Scientist who usually spouts wild speculation that inexplicably happens to be right on the money. Within the last 15 or so pages, we are treated to a lengthy exposition on the science behind the mysterious space eggs, dry and nonsensical and stopping any kind of narrative build the book had going dead in its tracks. I do wonder if this is not just an attempt at filling out the word count in so slim and frail a volume.
In a tale with such artificial characters, mere roles rather than people, the narrative becomes just a series of hoops for the archetypes to jump through. Stilted prose and canned dialogue drown any kind of charm the novel might’ve had, and it’s little worth the mercifully short read.
Perhaps The Space Egg’s greatest issue is the treatment of the only two women in the novel, who have less depth than an ice patch on a flat road, a poorly constructed pair of misogynistic ideals of femininity who are reduced to story objects, driving a conflict that is ultimately about which male gets to mate with them. A mere lack of agency in the male characters is truly absent here, as the women have none of it.
To put a damper on it even more, there are barely any space eggs! Only two appear, and quickly become utterly secondary to the main threat, doing their job and afterwards only serving to offer an opportunity for more ludicrous technobabble to appear. While my dream of “mysterious indestructible eggs, threatening mankind’ was technically fulfilled, the result is so gobshite awful that I cannot find The Space Egg anything other than abhorrent.
Read
September 3, 2014I love these pocket sci-fi books. this was a great lil 60s novel. quick. story was ok. moved a little slow but really picked up towards the end.
February 5, 2023
About what you’d expect from a pulp sci-fi of the late-50s, early-60s. The writing is bad, the story thin, stock characters—
but wait! what’s this? Why’s there a footnote near the end of this laborious 2-page exposition of junk science? Holy shit he’s clarifying that Helium 5 isn’t real bahahahahaha! Incredible. Sent me straight into orbit. Damn near Brechtian. Oh my god why. The science hasn’t made any sense at any point in this book, and it literally doesn’t matter because this is a fiction about china egg shells floating in the ionosphere and black energy and humans possessed by dark energy what’ll turn them into humans who don’t blink and I don’t know what all. Late in this 140-page yarn, when we should be ramping up tension toward a propulsive showdown, we’re stopping for our lead scientist to tediously give us a physics lecture of background knowledge that doesn’t matter and makes no sense—only to stop again so the author can now tell us that one of the details within a sea of nonsense is fake! The layers! Phew! I am alive with pulp fiction energy!
Oh man what a ride. This book is way too long for what it does, and it does very little. In a lot of ways, it doesn’t read like a novel at all, and more like a low-budget 50s sci-fi horror movie. How its staged in very few locations; how the “monster” works, energy possession where now you don’t blink and can heal quickly (which only happens to three people; lots of expository gab and stiff action writing. All suggests that Winterbotham has watched a ton of lo-fi movies, doesn’t know how to translate how those movies do what they do into effective prose, and might even be writing this whole silly tale hoping it’ll get picked up for adaptation, because producers will read it and notice all the economy. It’s extremely strange and interesting, but still a pretty terrible book.
Jack Schoenherr’s cover painting tho? Solid B+
but wait! what’s this? Why’s there a footnote near the end of this laborious 2-page exposition of junk science? Holy shit he’s clarifying that Helium 5 isn’t real bahahahahaha! Incredible. Sent me straight into orbit. Damn near Brechtian. Oh my god why. The science hasn’t made any sense at any point in this book, and it literally doesn’t matter because this is a fiction about china egg shells floating in the ionosphere and black energy and humans possessed by dark energy what’ll turn them into humans who don’t blink and I don’t know what all. Late in this 140-page yarn, when we should be ramping up tension toward a propulsive showdown, we’re stopping for our lead scientist to tediously give us a physics lecture of background knowledge that doesn’t matter and makes no sense—only to stop again so the author can now tell us that one of the details within a sea of nonsense is fake! The layers! Phew! I am alive with pulp fiction energy!
Oh man what a ride. This book is way too long for what it does, and it does very little. In a lot of ways, it doesn’t read like a novel at all, and more like a low-budget 50s sci-fi horror movie. How its staged in very few locations; how the “monster” works, energy possession where now you don’t blink and can heal quickly (which only happens to three people; lots of expository gab and stiff action writing. All suggests that Winterbotham has watched a ton of lo-fi movies, doesn’t know how to translate how those movies do what they do into effective prose, and might even be writing this whole silly tale hoping it’ll get picked up for adaptation, because producers will read it and notice all the economy. It’s extremely strange and interesting, but still a pretty terrible book.
Jack Schoenherr’s cover painting tho? Solid B+
June 21, 2023
I bought this little book for two dollars at a thrift store. The title snagged me and I had to pick it up. Honestly, it was exactly what I expected. It's a quick read with a funky premise and a cheesy science-fiction plot. Like a B-movie, I didn't pick this up expecting Dune levels of writing, but a weird story that's quick and laughably bad. Not every book has to be a sci-fi masterpiece. Sometimes it suffices to be entertaining.
March 28, 2026
If I'm reading bad and problematic old sci-fi I need it to be interesting
October 13, 2008
Forgettable, dated science fiction novel picked up at a resale shop in Chicago.
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews