"Icerigger" by Alan Dean Foster

 So-so start to another new Alan Dean Foster series -- 3 stars

I continue my rediscovery of Alan Dean Foster with “Icerigger,” the first in its series. It wasn’t as good as the other Foster books I’ve read of late, but it’s not bad, either.

Ethan Fortune sold vacuum cleaners for a living, and he certainly never considered himself a “hero.” Yet here he was, marooned with two dozen strangers on a planet where the air could freeze your lungs, watching them all turn to him with expectant eyes. The next thing Ethan knows, they have appointed him their leader.

“Icerigger” hurls its readers into a world where survival hangs by a thread. Foster crafts a narrative that pulses with tension, allowing only brief moments of respite before the next perilous challenge emerges from the frozen landscape.

(As a quick aside, barring some short comings I’ll get to in a moment, I can easily imagine this story translated to the silver screen as an epic science fiction spectacle. Of course, the studio would need to allocate significant resources for visual effects, considering the narrative unfolds primarily on a frozen world teeming with diverse extraterrestrial life forms.)

As he often does, Foster excels at constructing vivid universes and throwing his characters into preposterous situations with an almost child like glee. Readers seeking rigorous scientific speculation should look elsewhere, but those who enjoy their interstellar adventures with a generous splash of violence will find themselves thoroughly entertained.

Now, my primary complaint, the reason I lowered this book from 4 stars down to 3: Foster’s handling of women (and the scarcity of them). I initially appreciated the inclusion of Colette du Kane -- a wealthy, plus-sized female protagonist -- thinking the author was breaking from the science fiction convention of every woman’s physical attributes appealing to men.

Unfortunately, as the plot progressed, the author’s treatment of her character devolved into cruel mockery centered around her body size. The novel even concludes with a visual joke at her expense that feels jarringly dated, like something from a low-brow comedy film of the era. While I recognize the book is a product of its time (1974), this approach to character development left me genuinely disheartened.

Despite this glaring shortcoming, the novel’s thrilling adventure across frozen landscapes still manages to captivate. It’s worth a look see, but as they say, results may vary.