Another in my 12 in 2012 reads. Reading all this classic science fiction, I'm starting to see a pattern. So many of the books I've read seem to be centrally concerned with "the future of mankind," as if we all have a single future. For good or ill that future is generally in the hands of a few speshul snowflakes, mostly male. Its starting to wear on me a little. I may need a break.
In this case the speshul snowflakes are a group of
grad students of a wise but doomed
senior anthropologist struggling agaisnt the re emergent forces of darkness. In some ways it feels like a companion piece to Fritz Lieber's excellent Conjure Wife.
This is a pretty good novel of its type. I'm just getting tired of the type.