It's probably written for kids. Teenagers. With short attention spans. That would explain it. The short sentences, I mean. You get used to them. But I found them tiring. You know?

I'm not sure it explains the author's apparent lack of interest in a plot. There were references to mutiny, terrorism, a helicopter crash, and an insidious biological terror agent that could render the world's population infertile. Pretty interesting stuff, right? But sadly, they remain just references. The word "mutiny" remains just a word: there is a mutiny maybe going on. Who's mutinying against whom? Why? Who knows, who cares.

I'm not sure which half of the book was worse: the 110 pages of prelude to the action, in which basically nothing out of the ordinary happens: our hero finds himself aboard a scientific expedition to the Antarctic, and gives a blow-by-blow account of daily life on the ship. The minutiae of the daily grind. Or the following 50 pages, in which all of the previously cited dramatic incidents happen and are resolved, leaving you perpelexed as to what you've just witnessed.

You can imagine the guy's diary: "January 15: cleaned my room, took photos of elephant seals, got in an argument with roommate. January 16: helicopter crashed on deck, threats of mutiny, and biological terror agent might destroy humanity. Oh, and I won the poker!"

Still, there was something mildly engaging here. Or maybe it was the short sentences. Compelling. Intriguing. Maddening. But unsatisfying. ( )