As good, and as dated, and as messed up, and as enjoyable as always. ( )

One odd thing about this book which was published in Ace Hardback in 1992 and Ace Paperback December 1992 was half of it was about homemade nuclear bombs being planted around the world. The specific place they were dealing with the first bomb was New York and the discussion of how and where passed over consideration of bombing the World Trade Center and why it would not make a big enough impact. On February 26, 1993 a 1200 pound truck bomb went off beneath the World Trade Center. Precient writer or some Arabs read hard cover science fiction novels. ( )

This one felt like two different novels.

The first two-thirds of the book was an occasionally funny, mildly-entertaining-if-politically-outrageously-incorrect private detective story set in a slightly fantastic whorehouse. It sets out to show the reader that one can imagine a world in which prostitution is a good thing (somewhat akin to Mike Resnick’s Eros Ascending).

The final third of the book morphed into something totally different and spectacularly awful. I regret that I can’t travel back in time and edit the past to save humanity from having to read the final third of this book. And I am a glutton for "pun"-ishment. ( )

The very Heinleinesque "sex is good, sex is wholesome, let's all be healthy-minded and share it together, and talk and talk and TALK about it" got ... hard to take. And the puns were ubiquitous, and sometimes annoying (hint: if even the characters in the book can't stand it, just stop already). And the denouement was very gruesome. (Spider Robinson is good at gruesome.) And (Heinlein again) people kept lecturing at length. I wonder how many readers really enjoy wacky puns, bloody murder, and kinky (but healthy, oh so healthy) sex? This would be their book. ( )

This book had a slightly creepy way of talking about sex and women, but it's still a fun read. ( )