Yukikaze

So I just finished the first Yukikaze novel, and there are three things I want to do

• destroy all machines
• read the sequel
• watch the anime

I have thus far managed to stave off the anime craving because I can't marathon it right now since the class I'm teaching still isn't done, and I'm going home to visit my parents over the holidays, and they have a basement theater with surround sound, which has proven itself an awesome place to watch things in surround sound with lots of dog-fight action.  Self control.  Self control.

The novel was really more of a collection of short stories, loosely swirling around Yukikaze, a plane in the future that fights on a planet called Fairy, the front of the war between humanity and the JAM. Yukikaze's pilot is Lt. Rei Fukai, a socially maladjusted person if there ever was one.  To say he is bad with people is to lie like a dog.  His job, being an observer who never helps, actually calls for people like him who don't really mind being avoided and even hated by other soldiers.  He doesn't care about other people, really.  He trusts his plane and sort-of trusts Major Jack Booker, his direct supervisor, the only person who even tries to connect with him.

The stories often use other points of view, which is good because being inside Rei's head for very long would be profoundly disturbing.  Not that the other POVs are all sunshine and puppies.  That maintenance guy's story was so chillingly horrifying I just had to stop reading for a couple of days when I finished it.  This quickly became a book I couldn't read at night for fear of nightmares (and I don't even really have nightmares) even though there is very little gore.

Frankly, it was amazing how much dread and menace the author built using such a dry style.  Just the facts, ma'am.  So why did the facts scare the bejeebers out of me?  Because they were so plausible.  So very, very plausible.  And that ending!  Poor Rei!  Sequel!  Soon!  Well, as soon as I defrost from the icy, creeping fear this collection caused . . .