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4.0 out of 5 stars
Patriotic swashbuckling, April 26, 2007
It's all you expect of Burroughs. The hero was dogfighting over Europe in some un-named war (hint: this was written 1941), when he was shot down. His plane spiraled down while his heart spasmed aroung the bullet lodged in it, then --
Sort of the John Carter thing again. He shows up starkers in a public park 450,000 light-years from home - amazing how he worked that out so precisely. After a few misunderstandings, he gets some pants and learns enough language to discover that he's landed on a distant world of perpetual war. Hot dog! What fun! How Manly! Of course, he lands among the good guys, and it turns out that he's just as good in their aircraft as he was back home, and promptly distinguishes himself for the greater glory of whoever and for the hand of the fair maiden. There's not a lot to get wrought up about here, except for a city that pops up and down like a jack-in-the-box and some overheated scenes of air war.
The second half of this book was written in the 1960s, during the height of the Cold War. This time, Our Hero infiltrates the enemy, who turns out to be a WW 2.5 stereotype of the Red Menace, stupid, brutal, and run by a priveleged secret police. And with names like Gompth and Grunge. Of course Our Hero distinguishes himself brilliantly and manages a clever escape, somewhat along these lines:
Him: Can I borrow one of your fastest fighter planes? You know, just for a spin around the block.
Them: Sure, can't think why not. Here are the keys, it's over in that hangar with no guards or anything.
Him: And all these secret documents and stuff, can I bring them too?
Them: I guess so. We'll flog a flunky until he's got it all loaded for you.
Okay, you don't read Burroughs for anything but heroic stereotypes and action that follows inane but chivalrous rules. You get that here. That's about all you get, but there's plenty of it. This is one of Burroughs's less well-known works, possibly for good reason. But it's good anyway.
//wiredweird
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