A Haunting Journey Across a Frozen World Where Science and Humanity Collide
The Glass Child, written by David Horn, is a sci-fi adventure of an extraterrestrial nature. Segmented into two parts, the book explores two crews going to a strange ice-planet, named Ymir. Set in a technologically advanced version of reality, the first segment follows a tough-as-nails leader, Dr. Megan Reed. She orders her team around with precision and grace, and more importantly, an iron fist. But things are not all they seem on the frigid planet, and the team’s actions welcome a reckoning beyond their expectations.
The Glass Child is immediately captivating. The background of the planet Ymir is shrouded in fog but is as wonderful as any of outer space’s real-life mysteries. Horn pays a dedicated amount of detail to the physics and geospatial rules of planetary movement, and the introduction of the planet is logical. We, as the reader, are given just enough to understand the facts and the mystery: a tantalizing combination.
This ruleset carries through the plot. The world is sensory-immersive, as readers can feel every breath, every step, and every beep of the machines the characters live amongst. The sci-fi nature also pulls through with every element as soon as the characters land on Ymir. We feel the fear and anticipation of the crew from the beginning. As they drill into Ymir, the fantasy builds. The snow is alive, tangible, and worse: answering their call.
The book has many strengths. For one, the buildup of emotions among the characters is felt through the pages. One scene that demonstrates this quality is when the crew begins to find the insect creatures on the planet. Despite their prior belief that the planet is sterile, the insects disprove their scientific assumptions and lead them into unknown possibility instead. The language is compelling: one can see the flashing wings, and the intentional movement of the insects. The growing unease of the crew is felt, too, particularly around Megan’s thought process. She struggles with their fracturing knowledge of Ymir but still tries to document her experience empirically.
“Not spores in a melt layer, not extremophiles in a vent, but wings and motion and pattern. Something alive on Ymir.”
Her panic while trying to remain professional is palpable. Even better, it’s relatable. This is largely where The Glass Child excels: very human reactions to extraordinary circumstances. The crew could be anyone, using their wits and guts for survival. The skills of statistical and biological knowledge existing alongside heart, hopefulness, and criticism are both components of a healthy crew and an operational mind. In encountering the unknown, grounding is necessary, but so is, for example, the persistent curiosity of Megan’s leadership and the counterbalance of Shiloh’s pessimism.
As the second part is beckoned in, we are no longer following the first crew and are left with both their fear and memory. The emotional echo is significant, as we watch the second crew head towards their fate. There’s a prevailing sense of horror: what will the crew encounter? Will the planet be kinder to them than to the first crew? The segmentation is masterful in this way. The reader gets little reprieve from the chaos of the first section before we are introduced to new scientific hopefuls. By nature of human optimism, we must root for them. We have to hope that they will do better, and we are invested in their survival and wellbeing.
“We were the definition of cross-functional but at that moment, with our nervous habits and mismatched biorhythms, we might have been a crisis response crew gearing up for a fire drill.”
Even considering The Glass Child’s successes, there are some areas that may require development. Though the scenes are visual and immersive, there is an over-reliance on technical language. For greener readers of sci-fi, that may cause a certain level of confusion that reduces immersion and pulls the reader out of the story. While some sentences are auditorily attractive, there’s a conceptual inaccessibility for non sci-fi-savants. Otherwise, sentences tend to meander. There are long bursts of expression, but the thought is lost in the process. A small offense, if ever there were one.
Overall, the book is a wonderful journey. Harrowing at times; yes, but a fantastic trip, nonetheless. The book is a ride of people, of memory, and the systems that connect them both. Through David Horn’s The Glass Child, regular people can see themselves on Ymir, breathing crescents on windowpanes and feeling the icy grip of possibility.
Read David Horn’s book here, or preorder through his publisher.
