Bird is the word!

[agrumer]

Google Books has confirmed for me something I recall noticing - that Orson Scott Card’s 1995 novel Alvin Journeyman takes place in a world populated by owls:

• Page 35: Becca hooted.
• Page 38: The boy hooted.
• Page 57: Alvin hooted derisively.
• Page 138: […] but Horace hooted […] It was Vilante’s turn to hoot with laughter.
• Page 192: The lanky one

Comments

[mamishka]

It vaguely reminds me how in Stephen King's "The Eye of the Dragon" novel, everyone who was evil seemed to have giant green boogers coming out of their noses. It really made an impression (not in the 'good' kind of way) on me, and is the only thing I remember about that horrible piece of trash. ;)

[agrumer]

Shoulda been "The Nose of the Dragon".

[mcroft]

I never understood how book 3 got any critical acclaim. I always assumed it was all coasting on Ender, which is why I picked up the first two. I gave him another shot on book 3 and decided that he wasn't for me.

It didn't pass the "this plot depends on people being fucking idiots" sniff test.

The lousiness of Alvin kept me from picking up his later Ender works.

[agrumer]

I never read any of the Ender books; just the original short.

I suspect the perfect time for Ender's Game is high school. Ideally, you ought to be a bright kid surrounded by dullards who bully you.

If, on the other hand, you're a socially inept kid surrounded by people whose motives you can't understand, go with an Ayn Rand book instead.

[mcroft]

Part of my disillusionment with Card was getting interested in Cyberpunk. I decided (rightly or wrongly) that Card and Gene Wolfe were current versions of exactly the traditional SF that Gibson/Shiner/Sterling et. cie. were a refreshing break from...

[don_fitch]

I was rather favorably impressed (read, "I enjoyed parts of it") by the first Alvin The Maker book, but some aspects caused me to neglect (if not actually avoid) picking up the sequels. Notably, ermm... no, Journeyman Blacksmiths would _not_ produce cast-iron plows. Cast-iron is brittle, and plows often encounter large rocks. I seem to be unable to accept even a Fantasy in which reality is so distorted. (And that's despite an ability to accept the idea that Alvin can cuddle up with a plowshare (or was it an anvil?) and turn it into gold.)