(Three Stars out of Five. Rounded upward.)
Warning: Spoilers follow.
Disappointing. Not nearly as good as Little Fuzzy, but–once it finally got started–an enjoyable bit of historic science fiction. It’s fun reading books written in the 1960s for the quaint social practices which the authors assume will remain centuries later, but in fact died in fifty years. And, of course, the changes in technology make much for humorous reading also.
That’s not what impairs this story: it’s the focus on other than the story for the first half of the book. I assume Piper was trying to hide his main threads–the danger of Fuzz extinction and the theft of the sunstones–in all the smoking, drinking, politics, smoking, cocktail parties, smoking, . . . you get the idea.
Interesting that Piper used the lack of a trace element in Fuzzy diets as the threat to their survival. Today, if trace elements figure in dietary concerns, it’s usually the fear that they’re killing us.
Still, a good read. Rounded upward in honor of Piper’s place in the SF community.