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Anonymous said: The Taking Of Planet Five? -unnoun
Haven’t read it yet. Strong candidate for the McGann/Eccleston book, with the caveat that both that and the McCoy book are going to run up against the physical limitations of the print on demand service, and I’m going to need to be very, very careful about what I do and don’t add, to the point where I may end up cutting essays that appeared on the blog to make room for things. At the moment my biggest priories with that book are Night of the Doctor and Engines of War. After that, I’ll start to consider McGann novels, with Taking of Planet 5, Seeing I, and City of the Dead being the three frontrunners. But any of those would come at the expense of Book of the War or some Faction Paradox audios, so yes, it’s all a complete and utter mess and I’m glad I have one more easy book before I hit those two nightmares.
(McCoy is somewhat easier - there’s much less that I’m adamant about adding, and definitely some NAs I think I wrote crap essays on that are best cut. I think my decision to be much more selective with McGann novels was ultimately sound.)
If it’s any help, and you haven’t read/listened yet, I think that Planet 5 is the best of the novels you mention, but you’d have more to say about Seeing I, Book Of The War is pretty essential I think, while the FP audios could easily be dropped.
The entirety of thinking I’ve done about the McGann book consists of coming up with answers when people ask me about it. I’ve come nowhere close to reading/listening yet. :)
Maybe you can release a chapbook sized book of stuff cut out of the other books? Like an errata book?
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On roller coaster streets that dive into mist shrouded hills crusted like barnacles with candy colored houses, a one armed guitarist distorts rivers of sound that paints the walls of the old poet’s shop, made weird and etherial it bleeds across the boundary between worlds and above helicopters watch drones play in the park. A wrong turn takes you to an arterial hub of vegetable delivery trucks in insectile ranks, dress white and at attention flanked by forgotten industrial machinery. In the valley the code of pimply faced boys mutates through the real estate like an entitled virus and climate-controlled garages keep self-driving cars waiting for their oncoming disruption. San Francisco is a science fantasy city.