I liked this when I first read it, and later reread it a couple of times, but there was something about it that didn’t feel quite right to me. I avoided it for more than 30 years, and then I tried it again.

OK, the story is readable, quite gripping. The first-person 11-year-old heroine, Candy by name, is likeable despite being literally superhuman (this is explained in the story). She survives the extinction of humanity in World War III thanks to Daddy’s wonderful underground shelter, and emerges to humanity almost entirely gone but the world more or less intact, thanks to the weapons being _targeted specifically at humanity.

Eventually she discovers some other survivors. The first two that she meets, a male of about 13 and a male in his late 40s, both want to have sex with her, and tell her so. This strikes me as rather weird and icky, and it’s one of my two criticisms of the book—although she manages to fend off both of them.

My other criticism is that it goes into too much detail about everything. The author did research and wanted to show it off. OK, but we the readers are not necessarily fascinated. In the later parts of the book, reading it now, I skimmed a lot.

Shorn of the excess detail, it makes a good enough story, although almost all of the characters turn out to be superhuman—and, well, I’m human. I like to think I’m above average as a human, but still, I don’t identify well with these types. And the story is basically quite simple, the plot is not very sophisticated.

Overall, I think three stars is about right for this one: nowhere near favourite status, but mildly diverting, rereadable occasionally. It’s a very American book, and I’m not American; but Candy is likeable, despite being absurdly precocious. ( )

Apocalypse? Hugo nominee? An eleven year-old girl? A pet parrot? Friend recommendation? Sign me up!

The first part of the story was published in 1981 as a novella in Analog Magazine, followed two years later by Part Two. Both, I think, had well-deserved Hugo noms, and the novel itself was nominated for a Hugo and Locus when published in 1984. Quite honestly, I think I would have loved it had I found it then or a few years after. Seriously, why on earth was I reading Piers Anthony when I could have been reading about a kick-ass girl navigating an empty world?

"Whereupon, for very first time in entire life, Candy Smith-Foster--plucky girl adventurer; most promising pre-adolescent intellect yet discovered amongst Homo post hominem population; youngest ever holder of Sixth Degree Black Belt; resourceful, unstoppable, never-say-die superkid; conquereror of unthinkable odds... Fainted."

The story wastes no time into diving into a series of world-scale catastrophes. Candy's father had been a highly-placed government consultant and doctor, and had the foresight to construct a very comprehensive bunker with just about every resource except hydrophonic gardens. Eventually, she decides to check on life outside and discovers everyone dead, as well discovering a closely-guarded secret of her neighbor and mentor.

It's an intriguing beginning, and I might have been a little bothered by the Speshul Snowflake syndrome (Candy is truly capable of everything) except she is so direct and honest about her feelings that her stiff-upper-lip self-talk and overall competence comes off as courageous.

The narrative structure is--how do I say this--interesting, and now that I know the seeds of the story were in a novella, it makes more sense as a 'hook.' Candy uses a type of shorthand to write her journals, and the 'translation' of it comes across as quite staccato, missing conjunctions and normal sentence structure. Initially, I found it annoying, but it eventually grew on me. Surprisingly, it still does a nice job conveying emotion, whether it's Candy's distress or her self-depreciating humor.

I admit, one of my favorite characters was Terry, frequently referred to as Candy's adoptive twin brother. But I'm biased; as the owner of three parrots, I thought Palmer's characterization was spot-on and hilarious. Terry is a beautiful hyacinth macaw whose "diet is anything within reach, but ideally consists of properly mixed seeds, assorted fruits, nuts, sprinkling of meat, etc. Hobbies include getting head and neck scratched (serious business, this), art of conversation, destruction of world." I did wonder if the average reader would have appreciated the little throw-away notes about Terry, which captured the psittacine love of drama and propensity for destruction.

All that said, there's some barriers here. One is the cognitive dissonance between Candy's mature voice and immature age of eleven, although that is generally acceptably explained within the confines of the story. Two, there's some parts of this that feel more than a little early 80s, particularly Candy's characterization of Terry as her "retarded baby brother." I remember that word being rather prevalent in adolescent vocabulary when I was younger, although even then it was undergoing cultural shift towards unacceptability. On the same note, the general structure of the apocalypse feels a little dispassionate Cold War kind of dynamic rather than the disseminated violence we see more often these days.

Thirdly, and perhaps most significantly, I don't know what the hell Palmer was thinking at about page 200 or so (Volume III--Part Two--Portents). The last 'volume' of the book takes a fairly significant curve in plotting and ties in opposition (a shadowy opposing agency) along with telepathic-type developments. I think I could have settled for one or the other, but both strained credulity of the world Palmer had created, that of the advanced Homo post hominem.

Overall, generally enjoyed it a great deal until page 200, at which point I was significantly less impressed. The voice is entertaining, it's an interesting story and it generally avoids the depressing death-decay-violence we see in most apocalypse stories, focusing on self-empowerment and discovering connections. I'd recommend it, especially to younger apocalypse fans who might be more forgiving about the ending developments.

Three and a half, rounding up because of spot-on parrot characterization. ( )

somewhat overblown child genius as new race after bio warfare holocaust

I don't usually write reviews but this was such a confusing book that I needed to explain, if only to myself, how I arrived at 3 1/2 stars. The book was such a mixture of bad things, (the impossible earthquake in California and the utterly yucky relationship of Candy and Rollo and a good many more) and good things (the joyful madness that is Terry Dactyl Foster, the very clever way he makes us believe in both the genius and childish limitations of Candidia and a good many more). By the way, I don't think Palmer was making fun of Robert A. Heinlein in the character of Rollo but giving a serious, plausible interpretation of his public and authorial persona and what might lie behind it. Anyway for the bad parts, 2 stars and for the good parts, 5 stars. Average them and you get 3 1/2.

Am I aware that this barely makes any sense? Yes, yes I am.

After I wrote the above, I read the other reviews and thought that I would note that it is back in print through Eric Flint's Ring of Fire Press. I bought it through Amazon (and the type is very readable). ( )

What a blast. A sci-fi novel loaded with action, but that doesn't even begin to describe it. If they made a movie of it—and they should, I suppose—it would look like a mix of Hunger Games, Harry Potter, Star Wars, Karate Kid, The Road, and Gravity. It's narrated by an 11-year old girl. It's written in shorthand.

Sadly, 'Emergence' is out of print, hard to find, and Palmer hasn't written much since. This is the funnest book I've read in a long while. ( )