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Time for the Stars is one of the lesser Heinlein juveniles, with much of the good and bad that comes with that micro-genre. It's a fine read that would be much better if it ended two pages sooner. Pat is a twin, growing up in an overcrowded and poor family on an overcrowded and poor Earth. In the initiating drama, it turns out that Pat and his twin Tom have a telepathic link, and this rare link is absolutely instantaneous. Telepathic twins are the key to space exploration via near-lightspeed torchships, while also serving as a neat illustration of the twin paradox caused by time dilation. The twin who undergoes acceleration will appear not to age against the one who stays behind.
So the good news is that it's a Heinlein juvenile. It's quick, it's fun, it does a solid job explaining the scientific conceit at the heart of the story and having an optimistic attitude. Space exploration is cool and full of father figures, but it's also incredibly dangerous, and every planet the crew lands on takes a toll. Pat is also slightly deeper than the psychological puddle that narrates most of these stories, even if it's literally lampshaded in a psychoanalysis session. And while there are creaky 1950s gender roles, lots of women show up as competent experts. It's a far cry from the active misogyny of some period fiction.
The bad news is that the story is too quick. Things that should sting a little more, like a plague that wipes out half the crew, or an attack by aquatic aliens which halves the crew again, don't land with much impact. The story undercuts its theme of heroic sacrifice, and a near mutiny lead by Pat, by having the torchship rescued by a next-generation FTL cruiser. They're returned to a world which has passed them by, less than a footnote rather than the grand explorers they expected to become, even if FTL telepathy inspired the breakthrough to FTL drives.
And then there is the final turd in the punchbowl. To quote Erika Chappell, "Robert A. Heinlein [is] the father of hard science fiction, weirdo libertarian nonsense in science fiction, and putting your kinks directly into science fiction. 2 outta 3 ain't bad." So when the redhead twins showed up on page 15, I chuckled. When the story ended with our narrator's busty great-grand niece, who he'd been telepathically communicating with since she was a kid, proposing marriage to him, I about tossed the book out a window. I can think of at least three Heinlein stories off the top of my head, which conclude by using technology to transform the perfect little girl into the perfect wife in a way that is not technically incest, but definitely morally feels like incest. And I really didn't need that in my light science-adventure story.
So the good news is that it's a Heinlein juvenile. It's quick, it's fun, it does a solid job explaining the scientific conceit at the heart of the story and having an optimistic attitude. Space exploration is cool and full of father figures, but it's also incredibly dangerous, and every planet the crew lands on takes a toll. Pat is also slightly deeper than the psychological puddle that narrates most of these stories, even if it's literally lampshaded in a psychoanalysis session. And while there are creaky 1950s gender roles, lots of women show up as competent experts. It's a far cry from the active misogyny of some period fiction.
The bad news is that the story is too quick. Things that should sting a little more, like a plague that wipes out half the crew, or an attack by aquatic aliens which halves the crew again, don't land with much impact. The story undercuts its theme of heroic sacrifice, and a near mutiny lead by Pat, by having the torchship rescued by a next-generation FTL cruiser. They're returned to a world which has passed them by, less than a footnote rather than the grand explorers they expected to become, even if FTL telepathy inspired the breakthrough to FTL drives.
And then there is the final turd in the punchbowl. To quote Erika Chappell, "Robert A. Heinlein [is] the father of hard science fiction, weirdo libertarian nonsense in science fiction, and putting your kinks directly into science fiction. 2 outta 3 ain't bad." So when the redhead twins showed up on page 15, I chuckled. When the story ended with our narrator's busty great-grand niece, who he'd been telepathically communicating with since she was a kid, proposing marriage to him, I about tossed the book out a window. I can think of at least three Heinlein stories off the top of my head, which conclude by using technology to transform the perfect little girl into the perfect wife in a way that is not technically incest, but definitely morally feels like incest. And I really didn't need that in my light science-adventure story.