This is a sequel to The Cat Who Walks Through Walls, and I could not bring myself to read beyond the first two chapters, as was also the case with The Number of the Beast. I did manage to finish Cat, but Number was a DNF like this one. Not because Cat was much different in writing style or content; it just started off better than the other two before getting into the “same tired old rhetoric” (I’ll call it STOR).
I’m not the sort to do 1- or 5-star reviews, ignoring 2, 3, 4. I review many books in that range. But any book that I give up on earns a 1. Kurt Vonnegut earned the honor once. I’d like to think of myself as an objective reader, despite my love for a certain author’s work.
I love Heinlein’s earlier works. He absolutely dominated the field in his time. No one could match his creativity (or the resulting sales–50 million sold during his lifetime, as I recall). Starship Troopers, Mistress, Stranger, and others from that time period are outstanding. This late LL series is but a shadow.
This was Heinlein’s last novel before he passed in 1988, so there’s a certain morbid curiosity. But, unlike some great writers, his last is not his best, not his magnum opus. It’s more like a fire cracker that fizzled out, a dud.
Some fans love Lazarus Long. I just find him–and his whole band of friends & family–extremely tiresome. In the same way that Adam Sandler and his gaggle that follow him from film to film is tiresome. SAME!