Crosstalk (Connie Willis)

Crosstalk
Connie Willis
Del Rey
Fiction, Romance/Sci-Fi
**+ (Bad/Okay)

DESCRIPTION: Briddey Flannigan, like most people in the modern age, is always connected: texts from work, phone calls from her always-needy sisters and meddling Aunt Oona, Facebook and Twitter on her phone, and more. But soon she'll have one more connection with her boyfriend Trent. They're scheduled for EED implants, a cutting-edge procedure that's all the rage among the rich and famous. While not offering true telepathy - there's no such thing, after all - the device allows a couple to communicate emotions directly to each other, strengthening bonds (not to mention apparently making for mind-blowing sex.) It's supposed to take at least twenty-four hours to kick in, but right after she wakes up she hears a voice - not Trent, but a co-worker, C.B. Schwartz. As unintended consequences go, this is just the beginning, as Briddey finds herself plunged into a telepathic nightmare that might endanger not only her relationship and her job, but her very sanity.

REVIEW: I've heard good things about the author, so I figured I'd give her a try. Unfortunately, if this is a typical example of her work, I won't be trying her again anytime soon. The core ideas aren't terrible, with some decent descriptions, but the plot is fouled up by Briddey, a character I could barely stand to be around, let alone care for. She's the kind of woman who, told that a room is on fire, would first ignore the warning because she's thinking of something else, then get resentful at someone telling her what to do, then walk into the room and sit down for a while while ignoring a growing sense that something wasn't right, then bar the door against those nasty, pushy firefighters who keep yelling at her to let them in, then - upon belatedly realizing that the room is, in fact, on fire - run in circles in a panic, jump out a window, and later need to be rescued from the middle of the interstate, where she's curled up in the express lanes with her hands over her ears, wailing about how the horns won't stop. She's so willfully obtuse and distracted that she fails to pick up on numerous blatant clues, meaning I had the basics of the story worked out long before she got on board. Briddey's family is little better, a dysfunctional gaggle of emotionally needy people, though perhaps the most annoying is her niece Maeve, who becomes far too pushy in a way that I suspect I was supposed to find endearing. (I didn't.) By the time the story really picks up, I'd already given up on caring about such a dense, helpless character, who perpetually needs rescuing (by a man, of course) and needs numerous metaphorical blows with a two-by-four to drive anything through her thick skull... and even then it might not take. Given that I was so far ahead of her, I wasn't particularly surprised (or interested) in how things unfolded, or in how Briddey managed to delay events or misinterpret them or otherwise blunder through her story. The ending relies on several accumulated plot conveniences/sudden revelations that were less shocking than eyeroll-inducing. Despite the hype about the award-winning author, I've read better tales of telepathy, and of romance.

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