Barbary Station is a collection of categorical highs and lows that evens out to something maddeningly average.
The Highs
- Things started out really quite good, following Iridian's, Adda's, and Reis' daring plan to hijack an entire starship and use it as cred to join a band of pirates, because despite their schooling and expertise, it's legitimately their best shot at a secure financial future. It sets the stage of the world/solar system they live in, and acts as a scathing meta-narrative critique of the student loan crisis in the U.S.
- Adda's virtual workspaces are unfailingly inventive and engaging (and it's not entirely an exaggeration to say that the first sequence of these kept me from putting the book down early). Coding by way of manipulating subconscious imagery in a state of altered consciousness is a wild and fun approach to the subject, and it really spices up the narrative.
- The conflict and interactions with the AIs felt like it really tried to portray the way an inhuman intelligence would act. I love when sci-fi explores that kind of territory.
The Lows
- The pacing left a lot to be desired. After a breakneck opening, it's not surprising that things slowed down, but there are lengthy sections where not much seems to happen. These are punctuated by abrupt sequences of action, before slowing to a crawl again, until we were running out of pages and things needed to get resolved.
- The characters. The slow parts mentioned above wouldn't have been so bad, if there was a strong cast to shore things up. Sadly, this is hampered by two factors: First, the cast is huge, leaving the reader only marginally familiar with a lot of them, and thus uncaring when some of them die. No lie, there are so many one-off crewmembers, that when one chapter began with "So-and-so is dead," I had to wrack my brain, trying to recall just who they were. Second, the characters we do get acquainted with aren't terribly endearing. Maybe it's just me, but I felt a lot of them--including our main protagonists--felt somehow hollow, like actors reading lines, and not real people.
- And even that wouldn't have been as egregious, if the general writing had been better. As it stands, you could make a drinking game out of how many times Stearns uses the phrases "the cold and the dark," or "pseudo-organic tanks," but the second half of the book would pickle your liver. The kicker is, even after all the repetition, I still don't know exactly what function "pseudo-organic tanks" are supposed to provide. And that's emblematic of a lot of background elements in this book, ranging from technology, to religion(s), to parts of the history.
Like I said, it's frustrating; there are aspects I genuinely enjoy here, but each one is undercut by an equivalent downside, in some kind of literary Zen balance. Not the worst bit of sci-fi I've read, but damn, I wish it were better.