Yes, yes, of course Decibel Jones and the Absolute Zeroes saved the world.
But what have they done for us lately?
It’s New Year’s Eve! Time for one more quick review of a 2024 book (gotta pad those review numbers y’know). And what a book. The first book in this series, Space Opera, was a wild ride; the sequel is even wilder.
Book 1 ended with Decibel Jones and The Absolute Zeros saving humanity by not coming in last in the Metagalactic Grand Prix. This was accomplished in part by the guitarist singing a Christmas song, the formerly-deceased drummer being dragged out of her time and into the performance by a time-travelling red panda, and Decibel’s daughter/son/it’s complicated being born on stage after Decibel found out he’d been knocked up by his torrid love affair with a blue space flamingo. (Yes, he, meaning Decibel. Wild, right?)
Did you get all that? Book 2 is the glorious answer to the all-important question: And then what happened??
Turns out there are a lot of obligations that have to be paid when joining the galactic civilization. One of those obligations is a good-will tour by the representative of the newly-joined species (in this case, Decibel), involving celebrity appearances on talk-shows, commercials, charity performances, and travel via a luxury spaceship provided by the Keshet, the aforementioned race of time-traveling red pandas. Unfortunately Öö, the red panda who helped the Absolute Zeros save humanity, is in Time Out for the crime of messing with the space-time continuum and bringing the drummer Mira Wonderful Star out of retirement (death). Mira herself is now a paradox and thus technically counts as a starship engine. The guitarist is not interested in any of this and won’t show up again until the last third of the book. And Decibel’s crowning achievement in life was coming in tenth place in the Metagalactic Grand Prix, and he’s so bummed about this and having to do actual job-things that he’s even more impossible to be around than usual.
Meanwhile humanity’s reaction to finding out we’re not alone in the universe was disappointing at best and embarrassing at worst, there are races out there who are dangerously irritated that no one wants to admit that they’re the best, the ruling body of the galaxy is so dysfunctional that they haven’t been able to adjourn their meeting for decades (centuries?), there’s a Hero’s Journey made manifest trying to explode protagonism all over the place, and the person with the absolute worst qualifications to handle a First Contact (Decibel) has found another possibly sentient race, so now we have to do the whole Metagalactic Grand Prix. Again. For the second time in a single year.
One thing I adore about Valente’s books is her writing style. I quickly gave up trying to highlight all of the quotable sections; the entire book is quotable. She twists paragraphs into poetry, ending sentences in ways that constantly startle me into laughing, shining a light onto old questions and new observations, and just generally poking every bear she can get her hands on, including a gloriously plush rainbow unicorn-bear that wants to murder the hell out of everyone. Confused? Strap in. Valente creates dozens of alien races here, some of which don’t even have dialog, and all of which have their own biology, planetary type, mineral composition, and preferred method for dealing with creditors.
In this universe technology can and does do anything that you could possibly imagine in your wildest fever dreams. One of my favorite chapters was the long list of every brochure, how-to guide, tasty-snack, world-changing appliance, and youoweme’s included in the gift baskets that were sent individually to all seven billion members of humanity simultaneously. Keshet time-traveling technology means their spaceships are designed around the thoughts and memories of their captains, so the control room of Decibel’s spaceship is a space-themed children’s restaurant from July 20, 1992. Not looks like it, IS. Filled with screaming children and adults who don’t notice any of the ships passengers and only get a little confused when someone steals their soda.
Everything requires an explanation, and most explanations will lead to long philosophical discussions that occasionally tie back to the ever-popular (and excitingly venomous) children’s book Goguenar Gorecannon’s Unkillable Facts. We’ve got a deep dive into why teleportation is a civilization-killing Bad Idea. The rant about the awfulness of the English Language is one for the ages. Decibel has to try to convince an entire race that emotions are essential (as well as being the source of all our problems). Even abstract concepts like Space can hold grudges and get their feelings hurt. And the semi-final of the latest Metagalactic Grand Prix is a list of all the ways the different teams failed to accomplish a simple task, how many casualties resulted, and if there were any survivors.
Does that sound like a lot? It’s absolutely a lot! Space Oddity is just chock full of detail and fun. Not kidding, every single sentence ends with a wink and a nod and a slap upside the head. This book is 99% clever sentences and entertaining digressions. It’s nuclear levels of Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, and I had to read it in small bites because it can get a little overwhelming at times.
The ending is all tangled up in an interstellar attack, a shameful secret by one of the most powerful civilizations in the galaxy, some unfair games with cause and effect, and why the lyrics “la la la” are so very important. You definitely need to read the author’s note at the end (appropriately labeled “Liner Notes”), because it conveys something that grounds all the craziness and elevates it at the same time. There’s so much passion in here because what Valente -and by extension Decibel – understands is that the very best way to get through a life that is stupid and also beautiful is to fall in love. With everything. The book Space Opera was a love letter to Eurovision, but I really feel that Space Oddity is a love letter to Douglas Adams, to everything he wrote, everything he inspired, and all the people who share that love (the bit about the petunias made me smile.) And it’s more than an eat-drink-and-be-merry kind of celebration, it’s the kind that loves in spite of how often it’s gone wrong, how unlikely it is that it will go right (“this time will be different”), and how the starting point of civilization can so often be boiled down to “you have to vote for someone other than yourself.”