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36 of 38 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars
More an "epilogue" than a fourth book in this classic series, August 23, 2003
Having read and loved the first three books in the Ender series, there was no way I was going to miss this entry. Like so many others, though, I am of split mind about the finale (and how appropriate, given the schizophrenic existence of its lead characters Ender-Peter and Val-Jane). While "Children of the Mind" does contain Card's trademark wit and while the last 100 pages kick into high gear, the final installment, on its own, is as unsatisfying as it is pleasing.One of the major problems is Card's ill-considered decision to publish "Xenocide" and "Children of the Mind" as two books rather than one cohesive unit; the fourth entry seems more an epilogue to the series--a 350-page denouement--than the climax it should have been. Card admits he originally planned the two books as one work, and this admission resonates like an apology. Well over a third of "Children of the Mind" summarizes what happened in previous volumes, and another third is riddled with endless conversations on political and metaphysical topics, many of which the characters already debated at length in "Xenocide." Only in the last 100 pages does Card finally abandon the themes that were presented more thoroughly (and competently) in the earlier books and turn his attention to resolving the many loose ends. In sum, Card would have been much wiser to have written a unified 600-page book rather than 900 needlessly repetitive pages. The second problem is that Card's philosophical ruminations often steer awfully close to quasi-religious mumbo-jumbo. The entire section set on Pacifica, a planet governed by Samoans, feels particularly incongruous. (Peter and Wang-mu wonder aloud--twice--what they are doing on this particular world, a question that is never really fully addressed.) True--some of the philosophical questions are fascinating, but there's very little that wasn't already said better and more succinctly in "Xenocide," and the dialogue is often excruciatingly shallow. Take this conversation between Valentine and Novinha, which reads in part: "You didn't really need him anymore." "He never needed me." "He needed you desperately," said Valentine. "He needed you so much he gave up Jane for you." "No," said Novinha, "He needed my need for him. He needed to feel like he was providing for me, protecting me." "But you don't need his providence or his protection anymore." I wish I could tell you this bit of dizzying dialogue is an exception, but there are similar angst-ridden conversations between Miro and Val, Peter and Wang-mu--in short, between any two characters who feel the need to explain to each other their raison d'etre. In the earlier books, Card allowed metaphysical questions to arise as much from the actions of the characters and the development of the plot as from the dialogue; in "Children of the Mind," everyone seems to be in post-Freudian interplanetary counseling. Yet the book is not a wholesale disaster; and I particularly enjoyed the page-turning final resolution, even though it relies on a melodramatic sleight of hand. If the last third of "Children of the Mind" were merged with a pared-down version of "Xenocide," the whole would probably have been equal to the excellence of the first two books in the Ender series.
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