Back in the 90s in high school, we used to wear t-shirts that read "Sleep is for the weak." We had bumper stickers that declared "coffee: you can sleeBack in the 90s in high school, we used to wear t-shirts that read "Sleep is for the weak." We had bumper stickers that declared "coffee: you can sleep when you're dead!" It's been a running gag for as long as I can remember that sleep is the true collective common enemy vs. productivity and creative output.
I thought about those slogans a lot as I read Victor Manibo's excellent sci-fi thriller debut. How many people did I know who would line up to catch such a sickness? And of course there would be well-organized bigots out there declaring themselves the next iteration of human evolution. Absolutely there would be plenty of desperate, hungry, ambitious, traumatized people out there willing to dip into the waters of black market pills to unlock Sleeplessness for themselves.
The genius behind this book is how absolutely real and reasonable it all feels. And that dreadful realism--a future we can envision so perfectly just by looking around at our current state of affairs--is the perfect setting to place a noir thriller.
Manibo's Sleepless reporter, Jamie Vega, gives us the full experience: broken relationships, a mentor who turns up dead, a suicide that seems far too convenient, further complicated by Jamie's realization that he has significant chunks of time missing from his memory. Add to this a host of supporting characters who ALL come off simultaneously charismatic, sympathetic, and shady as hell, and what you have is a masterful blend of science fiction noir....more
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