When Sir Arthur C. Clarke, the greatest science fiction writer ever, teams up with award-winning author Stephen Baxter, who shares Clarke's bold vision of a future where technology and humanism advance hand in hand, the result is bound to be a book of stellar ambition and accomplishment. Such was the case with Time's Eye. Now, in the highly anticipated sequel, Clarke and Baxter draw their epic to a triumphant conclusion that is as mind-blowing as anything in Clarke's famous Space Odyssey series.
British officer Bisesa Dutt, newly returned from a bizarre out-of-time experience on another world, now faces a crisis of world-shattering proportions. Along with Astronomer Royal Siobhan McGorran, Phillippa Duflot of the office of the mayor of London, and solar specialist and lunar resident Mikhail Martynov, Lieutenant Dutt must assemble an ambitious project to save Earth and its population from a fatal sunstorm just five years away. Sf grandmaster Clarke (2001: A Space Odyssey) and Baxter ("Manifold" series) deliver a page-turning sequel to Time's Eye and conclude the "Time Odyssey" series. Combining the best of disaster fiction and hard sf, the authors maintain their focus on the compelling characters caught in the midst of a cataclysmic cosmic event. Most libraries will want this. Copyright 2005 Reed Business Information. -- PUBLISHERS WEEKLY.
Showing 1-1 of the 1 most recent reviews
1 . Wonderfully Written
Posted March 25, 2010 by Matt , MadisonA great sequel to "Time's Eye" - in fact, better than the first.Finished it in two days, it was so enthralling.
March 29, 2005
Number of Print Pages*
Adobe DRM EPUB
* Number of eBook pages may differ. Click here for more information.
Excerpt from Sunstorm by Arthur C. Clarke
Bisesa Dutt gasped, and staggered.
She was standing. She didn't know where she was.
Music was playing.
She stared at a wall, which showed the magnified image of an impossibly beautiful young man crooning into an old-fashioned microphone. Impossible, yes; he was a synth-star, a distillation of the inchoate longings of subteen girls. "My God, he looks like Alexander the Great."
Bisesa could barely take her eyes off the wall's moving colors, its brightness. She had forgotten how drab and dun-colored Mir had been. But then, Mir had been another world altogether.
Aristotle said, "Good morning, Bisesa. This is your regular alarm call. Breakfast is waiting downstairs. The news headlines today areý"
"Shut up." Her voice was a dusty desert croak.
"Of course." The synthetic boy sang on softly.
She glanced around. This was her bedroom, in her London apartment. It seemed small, cluttered. The bed was big, soft, not slept in.
She walked to the window. Her military-issue boots were heavy on the carpet and left footprints of crimson dust. The sky was gray, on the cusp of sunrise, and the skyline of London was emerging from the flatness of silhouette.
"What's the date?"
"Ah. The ninth of June, 2037."
"I should be in Afghanistan."
Aristotle coughed. "I've grown used to your sudden changes of plans, Bisesa. I remember onceý"
The voice was small, sleepy. Bisesa turned.
Myra was barefoot, her tummy stuck out, fist rubbing at one eye, hair tousled, a barely awake eight-year-old. She was wearing her favorite pajamas, the ones across which cartoon characters gamboled, even though they were now about two sizes too small for her. "You didn't say you were coming home."
Something broke inside Bisesa. She reached out. "Oh, Myraý"
Her daughter recoiled. "You smell funny."