I’d been thinking about Supercollider the wrong way, I learned. I had been thinking about him as a person—an immensely destructive person, but a human being nonetheless. But he had more in common with a hurricane than a person, and once I adjusted my thinking, I realized there was a whole system devised to describe such forces, and what they cost. The currency was years of human life. 

Imagine the world of superheroes and supervillains, complete with flashy powers and dramatic monologues and bitter rivalries between nemeses—like all those worlds you see on cinema screens and brightly colored comic pages. Zero in closer on the people below the masks, their convoluted histories and dark pasts and numerous flaws. Go past that and zero in closer still: on the people around them, the ones working with them and for them, the one affected by their grandiose actions, caught in the fallout, left to pick up the shambles of their lives, left to learn to leave with the consequences that weren't of their own making. That's what this book does, and it does it brilliantly. It likens living in a superhero universe to living in a world of constant disasters, and it interrogates the costs and the tribulations of those, the darker side of familiar tropes; but also the way people are in general affected by the big decisions made by big players who have all those great goals in mind. There's a lot here that reflects certain patterns in the real world, that gives one a lot to think about.

I loved Anna, the way she hardened herself and turned her pain into power. How despite some of the enhancements she got along the way, her real superpower staunchly stayed in the realm of having a great analytical mind and being awesome with spreadsheets. I loved the entire flawed, colorful cast, and the plot with all of its twists and reveals, and the way everyone constantly stands on the moral horizon and has all those good reasons for doing bad things. I loved the unpretentious, honest debate about good and evil, righteousness and villainry, that I found in these pages. In essence, this story explores the very familiar statement: "With great power come reat consequences." 

Except it doesn't focus on the power. It focuses on the consequences, and of those who have to bear them, and on what becomes of them.

Some other things I loved, in no particular rambly order: 

• The complex, barely identifiable relationship between Anna and Leviathan. Their dynamic is just splendid. Every scene they had together sent varying quantities of shivers down my spine.
• The slow, painful, realistic deterioration of Anna's relationship with one of her friends; the exploration of the impact someone's trauma can have on both them and the people around them, how at the end of the time, self-preservation comes first for most (in all the different shapes it can take), and it's so understandable, and you can't fault anyone for dealing the way they feel is the most effective for them, and it also doesn't stop hurting.
• The equally realistic, nauseous depiction of PTSD flashbacks that made me feel near uncomfortably seen, for all the obvious difference between my baggage and Anna's.
• All the ways the plot is all about narratives, and what they're built on.
• As an extension of the previous point: the close-knit, near-found-family-like relationships in the henchmen team, how obviously important they become to each other as they work together—and how there's that one moment, the one that really hit hard: "You know why they can't get to our loved ones? Because we don't have any." But that's all part of the narrative, isn't it?
• As a sort of extension of the extension: the way parts of it reminded me of some tabletop campaigns I've been a part one, that one short-lived Murders & Acquisitions one, and, at some early points, the #iHunt one. There's always something cool about reading books that remind me of campaigns I've been in. They feel like coming home. Hey, I never said home is a comfortable place to be in.
• The echo of "Do you hate them now?" You'll know it when you read it.
• The mirroring rescue operations.
• The ending that begs for a sequel, but also feels complete. 

 I don't rule out the possibility that this book had flaws. But in that case, I loved it too much to notice them.