Based on a review I had read, I was expecting a novel that included all of my favorite elements: Sci Fi Cyberpunk Neo-Tokyo Kinky Sex. Midori's book included all of that (and more), but was most definitely not a novel. It is a series of short stories based on the same setting, with loose ties, and a few parallel themes tying them together. As science fiction goes, I enjoyed most of the stories. The author successfully captured the cyber-punk mood and rhythm, and the often predatory element of its citizenry. Midori is clearly a talented writer, and I look forward to a novel along similar lines. The short stories couldn't quite carry through on some of my other interests. For example, I would've preferred a more detailed discussion of her version of Neo-Tokyo, and its stratified society. As for the sex, as other's have mentioned, it was pretty hot stuff--well beyond vanilla--let the buyer beware. Midori's book was quite reminiscent of Bacigalupi's "Windup Girl," without the detailed descriptions of the devastating effects of climate change on economies and societies. It had the same dystopian tone, including that element of hopelessness, and actors with few redeeming moral qualities. All in all, a worthy effort, though quite short for those looking to spend a bit more time in Midori's Neo-Tokyo. ( )

Unskilled writers should not attempt to write cyberpunk. By the time I read the sentence "Java, jack-in and jack off--my morning ritual," on page one, I was groaning… and it wasn’t with pleasure.

The best thing that can be said about Master Han’s Daughter is that it is a slim volume. 105 pages is about all one could handle of 1986-era William Gibson name-dropping of ‘zaibatsu’, ‘yakuza’, and ‘kobe beef’.

Sadly, it actually gets worse once the stories are over. At the end of this miniature missive lurks not only “Author’s Notes”, but separate “Acknowledgements” as well. How could this possibly get any worse? Ah, follow those up with “About Me”, which was obviously absolutely necessary in case any stone in the author’s mind was left unturned in the previous sections.

In these appendices, the reader gets to learn exactly which friend inspired which character, and is treated to such charming all-about-how-cool-I-am-isms as “I have weird friends,” and “So how exactly do you feel now that you have an even deeper idea of my twisted sexual mindscape?”

Oh, Circlet Press, I expect better of you. No more book contracts for friends, OK? ( )