The Coldest War (The Milkweed Triptych, #2) - Ian Tregillis The story is getting more impressive. We're moving away from traditional hero types and we're getting a lot more flip-sides. Sure, we've scooted a couple of decades into the future and everyone has gotten a little flabby, but what can you expect in an upside-down world where England is pretty darn evil, the Soviet Union saved the day from the Nazis, and Cthulhu is knock knock knockin on heaven's door. I've still got that image of Greta with pigtails, and she's just as charming and as odd as ever, for a raving lunatic hell-bent on destroying the world. (Or so we're lead to believe.)
I'm enjoying these stories so much that I'm prepared to risk wetting myself because I can't be bothered to put the book down a moment. Shame on you, Mr. Tregillis. It's ok, perhaps I'll rearrange my entire life so that when I was 17 I got into such a large car accident that I had to be fitted with a permanent catheter just so when I finally get around to reading this novel I'll have found that I don't actually need to get up to use the restroom and so therefore all things are copacetic again.
Did I really expect a time travel novel? No, but I'm thinking it works in a hell-ya kinda way.
Maybe I should get some sleep? Nah, it's time to start the third novel.