Avamposto Sette Review Donovan Simms

Cephalopods aren't from this planet, man Gary Nicholson playfully laid this information on me in the summer of 2015 as we strolled the streets of Bremerton, Washington with caffeine on the brain. We grabbed lattes from the coffee stand and made our way back home, chatting and laughing and cutting up the whole time. The caffeine levels had risen and we were both in high spirits in preparation for hours of trash talking authoritarian governments and contemplating life after death, all the while expressing our own respective creativity via the various outlets at hand -- painting, sketching, writing, and crafting. I remember many occasions such as this and look back in fondness at the days we'd spent together. I wouldn't be who I am today if our paths had taken different turns, but I sure as hell am thankful for whatever intangible force that had led our paths to intersect. Recently, when Gary asked me to write a review of his story, Avamposto Sette, a surge of apprehension ran through my veins like breakfast runs through the digestive tract of the most severe of chronic espresso drinkers. (Did I mention we like coffee?) I'd never before been tasked with penning a review of anything, let alone the story of a friend! What is my opinion worth? Couldn't he find someone more qualified? Fortunately, the feeling quickly subsided and I relaxed enough to let him know I'd do it. If he believes in me, I figured I should, too. I hope he doesn't regret asking... The story itself features plenty of themes, which frequently laced our own conversations, including, but certainly not limited to colonization of native lands, the horrors of warmongering, extraterrestrial cephalopods, alternative methods of space/time travel, and most intriguingly, the afterlife. Avamposto Sette isn't science fiction in its purest form, but is instead a poignant study of human nature set within a future world, light-years upon light-years away. Nicholson shows us, through the actions of biology scout and protagonist, Lubin Perrine, that even when we've been removed from everything familiar, our humanity wins out. This can be for good or for ill, and the tense action sequences reveal much of Gary's own insight into humankind's innate contradictory ways. He makes it clear that in most cases, we are our own worst enemies, and this is no more apparent than when emotions run high and we mistake one thing for another without any sort of real understanding of just how impactful reactionary behavior can be -- not just on ourselves, but on everything and everyone around us. Fight or flight rules our primate psychology with the iron hand of a populist dictator. With Avamposto Sette, Gary displays his deftness and skill at putting the reader into a contemplative headspace without seeming too preachy, a balance that too many writers and authors fail to achieve. I've read many of his works, from his poetry to his novels, and I do believe that this particular foray into the twisted psyche of the anthropic is his best work yet. Make no mistake, however. Avamposto Sette isn't all doom and gloom. Much in the same way that every life is filled with grief and turmoil, the story does have some bleak moments, but it also speaks of love, compassion, the virtues of truth, family, trust, and the overall belief that time can heal all wounds. Plus, there are a few moments of true hilarity leading to genuine belly laughs. We are both dirty and divine, and Avamposto Sette allows the reader to drink deep, but not too deep, from the eternal wells of wisdom, and anyone worth their weight in coffee grounds would do well to give it a good read. Avamposto Sette Review Donovan Simms