review
I'm not one for complicated reviews but of Connie Willis's Blackout, I have this to offer: Now and then a novel comes along that is so damn engaging and exciting, it reduces reality to a niggling irritation serving no purpose other than to obstruct quality reading time. I clearly recall feeling the same way when reading Passage nine years ago. The terrible feelings of disappointment upon reaching the end of the book. Not because it sucked, but because I would no longer be spending my time with those characters, each of whom had become as real as the people populating my own life. Even more so, some of them.