"Deep Storm"

by Lincoln Child

I previously reviewed another book by this author (“Utopia”), giving it relatively high marks for a light reading sci-fi/mystery novel. Not so on this one!

After reading the first book, I was looking forward to enjoying DEEP STORM as a work in the same genre. It starts, indeed, with a fascinating premise – a deep drilling oil rig in the North Atlantic (Oh my, shades of BP) is actually a decoy hiding a super secret operation to uncover a subterranean artifact. The protagonist, similar to the naive hero in the other novel, is pressed into service because of his specialized knowledge.

The first few chapters were fascinating in descriptions of deep sea technological processes. Shortly thereafter, however, the reader faces cardboard characterizations and jerky plot development. We have an assortment of stereotyped figures – the conflicted chief scientist, the ambivalent military leader, the paranoid security director, incompetent physicians, and, of course, the brilliant but hidden-away-by-the-glass-ceiling female ally of our hero.

In addition, although I certainly can’t speak for under-the-sea technology, some other scientifically oriented passages are seriously erroneous. This is a sin of poor research, I would think, for any competent writer of science fiction. For example, Hawking might shudder at the thought of antimatter/matter black hole pairs orbiting each other and the author would have us believe that individual stars can be identified by their spectrographic signatures. The star, in this case, is “Cygnus Major” or “M81”; even a beginning amateur astronomer would protest that “Cygnus” is a constellation and that the stars therein are identified as “Alpha, Beta, etc.”, never ‘major’ or ‘minor’ or anything like that. Even further, M81 is a galaxy, not a star, and is located in another constellation entirely.

Also, the dialogue frequently becomes almost ludicrous, reminding one of an amateur “Star Trek” script. In one instance we have the following: “He absently wiped his forehead again, licking his lips. What’s the status of the air-jetting system?” “One hundred percent operational.” “Very well. Have the tunnel-boring machine dig the lateral retaining tunnel. Then maneuver it and the Doolebug into the tunnel and deploy the stabilizer arm.” “Aye. Sir.”

In fact, in my judgment, this novel has the hallmarks of an adolescent level sci fi movie complete with tedious heroics (e.g.,the hero and his girl climbing a slippery vertical ladder for what seemed like pages and pages) and special effects best suited for the screen rather than descriptive prose.

I’m beginning to wish publishers would develop a rating system such as A++ for serious, thought provoking work, A+ for intriguing, albeit fast-moving material, A for quickly forgotten, but don’t want to put it down literature, B for adult-oriented, fast reads, and C for such as this novel.