100 Từ Trung - Việt Đầu Tiên tải về miễn phí cuốn sách

Federica Zoccari _edy_ — My sixth grade teacher revealed to me one day that my beloved math teacher, Mrs. Farca, had Written a Book. It was called Earth and could be found at the library, he said, and I found it pretty soon—I can’t remember whether I first read it during that year or the next. So there is my conflict of interest and, one presumes, my principal reason for having such a lingering fondness for this obscure book. That said, though, science fiction of just this sort was about the only thing I read in those days anyway. Chiefly I suppose Earth is a story about a highly technological culture meeting a primitivist one. Ames, a space explorer from a world where most everybody is a clone and people are so dependent on their omnipresent gadgetry that they’ve given up walking, is freshly arrived at the domed village of hunter-gatherer survivors of a long-ago holocaust that's left the planet lifeless outside their little five-mile terrarium. A lot of time goes to the exploration of the curiously structured, isolationist society of the villagers, and to Ames’ awakening as a biological creature, exposed to the great outdoors for the first time, learning the forgotten arts of walking and eating. As he slowly confronts the sterility of the life he was born to, the villagers are drawn into their own crisis as their rigid code of autonomy, the paranoid aftermath of their wartorn past, begins to fail them. And all of this of course comes to a head just about in time for the space cavalry to arrive. It’s a sweet book, really. I reread it many times and I have a real affection for it. There is a goofy amateurishness about it at times, ideas sketched in with slapdash gestures, but it’s a sturdy multithreaded bit of sci-fi ambition for all that.