![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
★★★¾☆ — but that’s not really the point
this book was like falling asleep on the sofa in someone else’s home. threadbare cushions. a pot of something warm on the stove. stories that drift in and out of the room, not urgent, but gently important.
it doesn’t try to dazzle you. it cares at you. it holds your hand and says: what if found family was enough? what if the universe didn’t need to be saved to be meaningful? what if the question wasn’t where are we going, but how do we hold each other along the way?
the plot is thin, yes. the pacing wobbles. and some of the conflicts resolve a little too kindly, like the author’s thumb on the scale. but i didn’t mind. not really. sometimes kindness feels radical enough.
this isn’t a book of high-stakes space opera. it’s a book about people (or not-people, or both). about species with unfamiliar skin but painfully familiar longings. about language, identity, ritual, trust.
i didn’t fall in love with the whole crew, but i liked being around them. like housemates i wouldn’t necessarily travel the galaxy with again, but who i’d text if i saw their favorite snack in the corner shop.
this book was like falling asleep on the sofa in someone else’s home. threadbare cushions. a pot of something warm on the stove. stories that drift in and out of the room, not urgent, but gently important.
it doesn’t try to dazzle you. it cares at you. it holds your hand and says: what if found family was enough? what if the universe didn’t need to be saved to be meaningful? what if the question wasn’t where are we going, but how do we hold each other along the way?
the plot is thin, yes. the pacing wobbles. and some of the conflicts resolve a little too kindly, like the author’s thumb on the scale. but i didn’t mind. not really. sometimes kindness feels radical enough.
this isn’t a book of high-stakes space opera. it’s a book about people (or not-people, or both). about species with unfamiliar skin but painfully familiar longings. about language, identity, ritual, trust.
i didn’t fall in love with the whole crew, but i liked being around them. like housemates i wouldn’t necessarily travel the galaxy with again, but who i’d text if i saw their favorite snack in the corner shop.
