I’ve read over 13000 words of Fields of Night, and I’m not reading any more.  I hate doing this to the author, because it is clear a lot of work has been put into this story, but . . . as far as I’m concerned, it’s all for naught.

The writing is fine.  At times, it’s even extremely pretty.  But, at this point, I can’t even write a description of how the story begins—I just don’t know.  I mean, I recognize all of the words (well, except for a handful of story-world ones), but I can’t for the life of me tell you what they mean.  Those few parts I could explain amount to little more than banal, stilted dialogue that seems to revolve around tests for antibiotic resistance in worms (ie. the little ones that live in dirt).

At one point, I started wondering if this was supposed to be some sort of homage to Dune, but if it is, it’s not very effective. 

If you like long passages of pretty—but meaningless—sentences, and long, boring conversations, Fields of Night just might be your thing.  For me, well, with my apologies to the author, I can’t bring myself to read any more.

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