Donald Maass Literary Agency

Publishers Weekly: Clarke (Metal from Heaven) delivers a biting dystopian satire that blends queer speculative fiction, body horror, and Cold War paranoia. Deep beneath the earth, the Felicity Complex, a luxury bunker designed for the wealthy, prepares for the apocalypse, staffed by six lab-grown women (called “specimens”) engineered to embody idealized femininity and service. Among them is Hallelujah, an earnest concierge specimen whose unwavering belief in her purpose begins to fracture when the bunker’s first guests arrive and long-buried secrets surface. Hallelujah’s innocent perspective provides both humor and a sense of unease, and the other specimens, all with their own distinct roles to play, are just as well drawn. Together, they carry the novel’s sharp-toothed commentary about autonomy, gender, power, and ownership. Some revelations feel telegraphed too early, and the relationships among the specimens could use more room to breathe, but the fast pace keeps the tension high, while Clarke’s prose cultivates dread with architectural precision. Fans of Fallout-esque retro-futurism, sapphic speculative fiction, and satirical examinations of privilege and gender will find this both deeply unsettling and darkly entertaining.

Science Magazine: “An instantly arresting premise. The book’s prose is crisp and economical, punctuated by sentences sharp enough to do the work of entire paragraphs.”

“[C]aptures the absurdity and menace of its world, where innovation and objectification are inseparable.”

“The satire feels especially acute at a time when several of today’s tech elites indulge fantasies of societal collapse and selective, pronatalist futures. The humans here are often monstrous in their entitlement, while the so-called monsters are tenderly, recognizably human.”