Walter Moudy (1929–1973)
Auteur de No Man on Earth
A propos de l'auteur
Œuvres de Walter Moudy
No Man on Earth 3 exemplaires
Superuomo illegittimo 2 exemplaires
The Survivor 1 exemplaire
Urania 439 - SUPERUOMO ILLEGITTIMO 1 exemplaire
Oeuvres associées
Isaac Asimov's Wonderful Worlds of Science Fiction, Volume 2: The Science Fictional Olympics (1984) — Contributeur — 88 exemplaires
Amazing Stories Vol. 39, No. 5 [May 1965] — Contributeur — 3 exemplaires
C'è sempre una guerra — Contributeur — 1 exemplaire
Étiqueté
Partage des connaissances
- Nom canonique
- Moudy, Walter
- Nom légal
- Moudy, Walter Frank
- Autres noms
- Moudy, Walter F.
- Date de naissance
- 1929-12-19
- Date de décès
- 1973-04-13
- Sexe
- male
- Nationalité
- USA
- Lieu de naissance
- Cassville, Missouri, USA
Membres
Critiques
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Auteurs associés
Statistiques
- Œuvres
- 5
- Aussi par
- 9
- Membres
- 62
- Popularité
- #271,094
- Évaluation
- 3.5
- Critiques
- 2
- ISBN
- 1
Well, I can tell you that it kept me reading, though I have to wonder at it. The book whips wildly through changes in tone and setting with every new chapter, adhering to a broad plot while presenting a series of largely discrete episodes. The science background is ludicrous; apparently the secret of exceeding the speed of light is maintaining acceleration, and the secret of defeating an intelligent thinking machine is to give it a problem it can't solve (the hoariest sci-fi cliché in the genre). The sociology is worse: although set in the 2080s, the culture is pure 1952, with white male technocrats running a benignly centralized authority, sending messages via pneumatic tubes and ticker tapes under the glare of neon signs. (The book was copyrighted in 1964.) A former "woman president" gets a brief mention, along with a description of her "stormy" temper. The other women in the book include a hillbilly, a go-go dancer, a couple of secretaries and a sexy Russian spy. And the sex, well, it's alternately puerile and revolting. So why did I keep reading? Because of the author's wild, uninhibited imagination—his willingness, having found his theme, to just write a crazy space adventure, no matter where he finds himself going. The novel actually reads like the work of a brilliant teenager, too naïve to know that he should know better, that he should take more care. And that can be a lot of fun. The soul of this book is its enthusiasm. And I admit I didn't know where it was headed. (Whether you think it's the worst ending you've ever read or the best depends entirely on you. Your tolerance for low humor will factor in.) As a piece of writing, the book is all over the place, veering from surprisingly good narrative and unpredictable but intriguing dialogue to groaningly purple descriptions and verbal exchanges between the sexes that make James Bond look like Samuel Johnson.
A little bit Flash Gordon, a little bit The Day the Earth Stood Still, this one's not going to be republished by The Library of America anytime soon. But it was a fun read and way different from anything I'm likely to find again!… (plus d'informations)