Other than that, though, a lot of the issues I had with Hearts of Oak reared their ugly heads here. They kind of serve as window dressing, breaking up the monotony a little bit. I just wish there was a little more done with them. And while some of the posts are pretty cringey, they were one of the few things I found myself chuckling at during my read. It’s an attempt that sometimes crosses over into boomer territory, while also offering some commentary on the idea of measuring the “truthiness” of individual posts, and how those systems could be gamed. Though a little annoying at times, I do think Robson walks the fine line of portraying a heightened state of social media in the future. And something strange is going on that she’s never heard about before she can still hear Fitz, and he might just help her solve the case. Considering she’s the last one who saw him alive, she is suspect numero uno.
After a “drunken” altercation with a theater producer, and a short vacation home to Halifax U.K., Lydia wakes up one morning to find Fitz murdered. Even after they make it through, the process of translation makes the human feel as if they are drunk, making their duty quite exhausting. Only a small set of humanity has the ability to receive their brainwaves, and even fewer of them make it through the rigorous training required of them to act as official translators. She works specifically with their cultural attaché, Fitz. Lydia is a human translator for the Logi, a peaceful alien race that can only communicate telepathically. Robson’s latest is a tedious dive into the future of social media, and conspiratorial plots that might fit right in with today’s headlines. In my typical fashion, I decided to dive right in and do my job. The joy of receiving the first volume of the Berserk manga overshadowed by the work that lay ahead. Lo and behold, I was flabbergasted when Andrew slapped an ARC of Robson’s latest novel, Drunk On All Your Strange New Words, on top of my TBR pile.
It was bland with a few twists and turns that kept the plot moving, and ended with such a slap in the face, I was turned off from Eddie Robson for a while. Two years ago, I read a short little novel titled Hearts of Oak and came away as bitter as old bark.
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