Dear Orson Scott Card,

You should have quit while you were ahead. What are we now – nine books into the Ender series? Unfortunately, about five too many, I think. I loved the first four books. I loved the ideas. I loved that children were portrayed as people. I loved that an American Mormon could write with intelligence and sensitivity about the thought processes and faith of Brazilian Catholic space colonists. It was even okay that you killed Ender, because you told his story to the end.

But these other stories? The main note they strike (at least with me) is one of self-indulgence on your part. Maybe Bean and Petra and the others are stories that deserve telling, but I don’t recall any of them, as written, being compelling or thought-provoking, or even (particularly in the case of this last one, since it’s been some time since I read the last one) very good. Unfortunately, since “Randall Firth” and his mother were still at large at the end of this book, I can’t help but suspect that you have more stories up your sleeve. Which is kinda too bad.

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