Friday by Robert A. Heinlein
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I waffle between 4 and 5 stars on this one, but probably not for the usual reasons.

This 1982 book is RATHER fascinating in that it feels almost like a homage to PKD and it could ABSOLUTELY live comfortably in the world of Cyberpunk 2077 while also being a solid SF exploring the nature of humanity and isolation and belonging while Friday is a literal Courier who is happy to do a little or a lot of wetwork as she travels the Earth and several times off-planet.

It's a true SF in that it's a fiction of ideas as well as a techie adventure, and it's obvious as hell that Heinlein was giving a massive nod to all his SF peers and their wives in his dedication. But beyond that, it's a careful and glorious cyberpunk novel right at the cusp of the true cyberpunk revolution.

So why would I waffle on stars? Because the old man Heinlein is super sexed up, and while that's not a problem in general, and indeed, it's true for ALL the later works, there IS one single point of fact that's just... shit, man. Friday, herself doesn't define rape in a normal way. As in, violence. She just lets it roll off her as a part of doing business, which, to be fair, is usually deadly. I can understand it her position, but it just irks the hell out of me. I guess my morals and ethics are getting the better of me. If I were Friday, I would never be so forgiving after being raped, or be so philosophical. It's not just a variation on swinging, after all.

But this IS a character choice, after all, and probably a position of Ginny's mindset (RAH's red-headed wife) that he was happy to incorporate. But without that kind of context, a cold read of the text could seem a bit weird.

Or perhaps it's all just me. Most femme fatale characters are truly flexible when it comes to these kinds of things, and my girl Friday is absolutely one of those.

Great novel, either way.

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