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1 1/2 stars. I really wish I could say I liked this. A couple of years back, I gave in to the hype and read Weir's The Martian, and I have to say-- I loved it. The scary scenario of being stranded so far away from everything and everyone you know, the very high probability that Mark Watney wouldn't survive, his chirpy sense of humour that keeps him going... unfortunately,Artemis's plot is convoluted and less exciting. And Jazz Bashara is SO ANNOYING.

Look, I completely get why Mark Watney annoyed some readers and, given that Weir transplanted his personality and awkward sense of humour into Jazz, it might seem a bit contradictory to have a problem with her personality. But, you know, Mark's narration worked for me because I could imagine this man in the middle of space needing to stay peppy and chatty. His inner narrative is conversational because he is talking to himself - and the reader - to avoid losing all hope. With Jazz, it doesn’t work so well.

Even though Jazz is a woman in her twenties and Arab, she is basically Mark Watney. You can tell Weir really struggled to adapt his writing style in order to write from the perspective of that most alien of all species - THE WOMAN. Jazz has the sense of humour of a twelve-year-old boy. Her constant quips feel forced and unnecessary. Some of the comments she makes about her sex life and body are just... not funny. She's the local lunar tramp, which is, apparently, so hilarious. But her whole narrative is just plain awkward.

I turned my head inside the helmet, bit a nipple (try not to get excited), and sucked some water out.

***

“Billy, I’ve swallowed better-tasting stuff that came out of people.�

And what grown woman responds like this:

“What’s in there, anyway?�
“Porn, mostly. Starring your mom.�

The real problem for me, though, was that I could not get invested in this half-assed heist plot. I was bored out of my mind with the random talk of gangsters, smuggling, some scientific sabotage blah blah and - oh my god - the welding. Mark Watney talked science to explain how he was going to survive and feed himself on Mars; Jazz talks science to explain the mechanics of welding. I couldn't understand why we were supposed to give a damn about this heist, or the whole conspiracy that develops out of it. Who cares whether Jazz earns herself some slugs (lunar currency)? Who cares if that guy who I didn't give a shit about dies?

Weir takes some minor steps toward making the setting interesting, but then does nothing with it. This lunar colony is run by Kenyans, which is intriguing, but the culture is unmistakably American, and he never expands upon why or how Kenyans came to be controlling space travel. He throws out some fact about Kenya being near the equator, but never adequately explained it. The main story is also broken up with Jazz's letters to a Kenyan pen pal, starting when she is nine years old, but this never really goes anywhere and feels kind of pointless.

Also, the author chooses to have a Muslim (non-practicing) narrator, which could lead to important representation, but it's hard not to cringe when he addresses his narrative to a solely white, non-Muslim audience:

"Okay, you can stop pretending you know what a niqab is. It’s a traditional Islamic headwear that covers the lower face."

And then goes on to show Jazz using said niqab as a disguise while carrying out criminal activity. She pleasantly declares:

"Great way to wear a mask without arousing suspicion.�

Yikes.

It's just a very messy book overall, with a narrator that tries to be Mark Watney and fails, and a plot that tries to be compelling but isn't. Where the science added thrills and realism in The Martian, here it bogs the story down with boring detail. Weir should stick to survival stories with male narrators.

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