What if the fate of humankind rested on the skinny shoulders of a washed-up pop star?
When the rest of the galaxy discovers that Earth exists, we're forced to defend our sentience: Are we people, or are we meat? Based on a horrific past war and its time-tested truce agreement, the pre-ordained litmus test is, of course, an intergalactic singing-and-entertainment contest. Like Eurovision, but weirder.
This book a hilarious pop culture fest in the best kind of way.
It's also written in elaborate similes and Vegas-showgirl feathered headdress adjectives and expressively convoluted sentences that take lux vacations to exotic locales for up to half a page at a time and twist themselves inside out and backwards in a primitive mating ritual before they bleed out fuschia glitter and then expire. You'll either like that or hate it.
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