Before I begin, I just want to say goodbye to Ray Bradbury. I cut my literary teeth on The Martian Chronicles. You will be missed.

So you can tell I’m a sci-fi geek. I have worshipped at the altar of John Scalzi since Old Man’s War – if that man called and said he needed 2 kidneys, I’d throw in my liver, just because. When I saw Redshirts was coming out – I downloaded it at midnight this past Tuesday and did nothing but read it (and throw Lucky Charms at my kids, yelling “DINNER” distractedly). I did this for you people. That’s just how awesome I am.

Is there really anyone out there who doesn’t know the iconic red shirt guys from Star Trek? Don’t answer that – I really, really don’t what to find out if that’s true.

So take these diabolically doomed folks, condemned just for the pigment in their apparel – give them their own universe and story – and just enough brain for them (as opposed to their curiously mindless Star Trek contemporaries) to wonder why those in the red shirts always seem to buy it.

While I’m wondering – why did Scotty wear a red shirt? He never died. Huh.

In Scalzi’ laugh-out-oud and BRILLIANTLY HILARIOUS (do you think the capital letters are too much – cuz they AREN’T!) hot-off-the-presses (seriously, I haven’t slept in two days) book – those cursed unfortunates wearing the redshirts and bearing the rank Ensign die in hideous ways – whether having their heads bitten off by ice sharks, mutilated by a Merovian plague that turns your skin and organs to jelly, vaporized or simply sucked into space because you were stupid enough to be on decks 6 – 12.

Junior Ensign Andy Dahl is racing to find out what the hell is going on, and why his co-workers always run to the closet to “do inventory” when First Science Officer Queeng is looking to flesh out the dreaded “away teams.”

Lives and laughter are at stake here – so it is in your best interests to read REDSHIRTS by John Scalzi.

Or else.

I’m totally serious.

Leslie Langtry