Genre Fiction
![Kate Hope Day - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_a_kate_hope_day.jpg)
In the Quick: A Novel
GOOD MORNING AMERICA BUZZ PICK • A young, ambitious female astronaut's life is upended by a love affair that threatens the rescue of a lost crew in this brilliantly imagined novel "with echoes of Station Eleven, The Martian, and, yes, Jane Eyre" (Observer).
NAMED ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY VULTURE AND SHE READS • "The female astronaut novel we never knew we needed."-Entertainment Weekly
June is a brilliant but difficult girl with a gift for mechanical invention who leaves home to begin grueling astronaut training at the National Space Program. Younger by two years than her classmates at Peter Reed, the school on campus named for her uncle, she flourishes in her classes but struggles to make friends and find true intellectual peers. Six years later, she has gained a coveted post as an engineer on a space station-and a hard-won sense of belonging-but is haunted by the mystery of Inquiry, a revolutionary spacecraft powered by her beloved late uncle's fuel cells. The spacecraft went missing when June was twelve years old, and while the rest of the world seems to have forgotten the crew, June alone has evidence that makes her believe they are still alive.
She seeks out James, her uncle's former protégé, also brilliant, also difficult, who has been trying to discover why Inquiry's fuel cells failed. James and June forge an intense intellectual bond that becomes an electric attraction. But the relationship that develops between them as they work to solve the fuel cell's fatal flaw threatens to destroy everything they've worked so hard to create-and any chance of bringing the Inquiry crew home alive.
A propulsive narrative of one woman's persistence and journey to self-discovery, In the Quick is an exploration of the strengths and limits of human ability in the face of hardship, and the costs of human ingenuity.
This edition includes a bonus chapter.
NAMED ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY VULTURE AND SHE READS • "The female astronaut novel we never knew we needed."-Entertainment Weekly
June is a brilliant but difficult girl with a gift for mechanical invention who leaves home to begin grueling astronaut training at the National Space Program. Younger by two years than her classmates at Peter Reed, the school on campus named for her uncle, she flourishes in her classes but struggles to make friends and find true intellectual peers. Six years later, she has gained a coveted post as an engineer on a space station-and a hard-won sense of belonging-but is haunted by the mystery of Inquiry, a revolutionary spacecraft powered by her beloved late uncle's fuel cells. The spacecraft went missing when June was twelve years old, and while the rest of the world seems to have forgotten the crew, June alone has evidence that makes her believe they are still alive.
She seeks out James, her uncle's former protégé, also brilliant, also difficult, who has been trying to discover why Inquiry's fuel cells failed. James and June forge an intense intellectual bond that becomes an electric attraction. But the relationship that develops between them as they work to solve the fuel cell's fatal flaw threatens to destroy everything they've worked so hard to create-and any chance of bringing the Inquiry crew home alive.
A propulsive narrative of one woman's persistence and journey to self-discovery, In the Quick is an exploration of the strengths and limits of human ability in the face of hardship, and the costs of human ingenuity.
This edition includes a bonus chapter.
Editorial Reviews
"With echoes of Station Eleven, The Martian, and, yes, Jane Eyre, this is a gripping and unconventional novel with an unforgettable heroine."-Observer
"I read In the Quick with wonder at the deeply imaginative world Kate Hope Day created. Feminist and thrilling, this novel centers around a precocious, brilliant character named June. I happily followed June into deep space, but I would have followed her anywhere. What a wonderful story. I highly recommend this novel."-Ann Napolitano, New York Times bestselling author of Dear Edward
"Kate Hope Day has given us another fascinating, beautifully written, genre-bending novel. Equal parts sci-fi mystery and coming-of-age romance, In the Quick is, at its heart, a feminist story about June, an engineering prodigy fighting to be taken seriously in the austere world of deep space. I couldn't put it down."-Angie Kim, national bestselling author of Miracle Creek
"Kate Hope Day pushes against the edges of all we know and could only dare to dream, and with that she has written a true wonder. This is a gorgeous book."-Courtney Summers, New York Times bestselling author of Sadie
"Day's descriptions of the cold lethality of space make the final frontier feel like a character itself, and, indeed, each location described feels tangible. The action sequences are brutal and breathtaking. . . . Perfect for fans of realistic depictions of space travel like Andy Weir's The Martian [and] Jeremy K. Brown's Zero Limit."-Booklist
"I read In the Quick with wonder at the deeply imaginative world Kate Hope Day created. Feminist and thrilling, this novel centers around a precocious, brilliant character named June. I happily followed June into deep space, but I would have followed her anywhere. What a wonderful story. I highly recommend this novel."-Ann Napolitano, New York Times bestselling author of Dear Edward
"Kate Hope Day has given us another fascinating, beautifully written, genre-bending novel. Equal parts sci-fi mystery and coming-of-age romance, In the Quick is, at its heart, a feminist story about June, an engineering prodigy fighting to be taken seriously in the austere world of deep space. I couldn't put it down."-Angie Kim, national bestselling author of Miracle Creek
"Kate Hope Day pushes against the edges of all we know and could only dare to dream, and with that she has written a true wonder. This is a gorgeous book."-Courtney Summers, New York Times bestselling author of Sadie
"Day's descriptions of the cold lethality of space make the final frontier feel like a character itself, and, indeed, each location described feels tangible. The action sequences are brutal and breathtaking. . . . Perfect for fans of realistic depictions of space travel like Andy Weir's The Martian [and] Jeremy K. Brown's Zero Limit."-Booklist
Readers Top Reviews
GJKehoenitpikr
The review I read described this book as Jane Eyre in space and one of the best books of 2021. It's neither.
Joan K HassettGJK
This novel is a very different read for.me. It encompasses many areas that I have little knowledge about. The characters are strong determined but very human in their actions. I enjoyed this unusual read.
Nancy WJoan K Has
I was worried at first that the slow start (but character and background building) would discourage me from finishing. But the story held me all the way. I hope another is planned, because I have so many questions about what happens next.
Short Excerpt Teaser
1
Space is cruel to the human body. We aren't machines, rockets with metal skin and polymer bones, rovers with microchips for guts. Our bodies are full of fluid and soft tissue. We aren't built for space. Our thoughts, the things we know, are sturdier in zero gravity, but they originate in gray matter. They change shape, even disappear in the face of disorientation, dehydration, oxygen deprivation. Because ideas require bodies too, hands, lips, a tongue, ears. Otherwise they're about as useful as dust motes drifting in the air.
When I was twelve years old and watched test rockets spark through the sky outside my aunt Regina's house, I imagined their destinations-perfectly round planets colored red and pink and white. I pictured spacesuits, puffy and bright against a black expanse. It didn't occur to me to think about the bodies inside those suits, the brains inside those helmets.
Not until a frozen day in November when the news came that the Inquiry explorer was in trouble. It was on a six-year mission, the first of its kind, to travel farther in our solar system than any manned mission had gone before. Inquiry was special; more than a decade of research at the National Space Program had gone into building the explorer, and it was manned by four of the most talented astronauts in the world.
It was a Saturday, late morning. I sat in the window seat in the living room with a book on my lap: New History of Energy. A chapter was devoted to my uncle and his famous fuel cell. The book smelled like him-like metal shavings and pen ink. Since he'd died I'd read the chapter at least twenty times.
I turned a page. Outside, rockets launched from the NSP campus lit up the hard gray sky. The sound of the TV came from the living room; a man was talking about Inquiry. I went into the hallway to listen and my limbs went cold. The explorer had lost all propulsion control just as it was beginning its orbit around Saturn.
The newscaster lowered his voice and began talking about the minutes leading up to when the explorer lost power. He said its fuel cells were suspected. But that couldn't be right because my uncle had invented those cells. I moved closer, my stomach a heavy weight. He didn't say anything more about the cells. Instead he talked about the Inquiry crew, and I grew impatient because I already knew everything about them, where they grew up, how old they were, what they had studied in school. If they had siblings and how many. Their hobbies and what they liked to read-I could tell you every detail.
The newscaster began reading from a statement issued from NSP. They were in constant communication with Inquiry, it said, and were working around the clock to troubleshoot the suspected fuel cell malfunction. Inquiry had recently received an unmanned supply capsule, the second of twelve scheduled to reach it at six-month intervals, and had ample food and water and an open line of communication with Earth. NSP was confident a solution was imminent. The crew were not in any immediate danger and had been in contact with their families. Then the man stopped talking about Inquiry and the weather report came on.
I returned to my spot in the window and called the dogs, Reacher and Duster, to come sit with me, but neither came. I felt chilled and stiff, and pulled my sweater to my chin. The words in New History of Energy swam on the page. I got up, went into the kitchen, and opened the closet door.
Inside was my aunt's new vacuum, a sleek silver machine with a nozzle like a two-headed snake. I used a knife to disconnect the nozzle, take out the screws, and remove the plates and filters. When I lifted the motor's cover the smell of dust and paper filled my nose. The fan inside was a perfect plastic flower, with curved gray petals and a small red center that made a soft clicking sound when I turned it with my finger. Clockwise, and then counterclockwise. I imagined that when the flower moved forward I was turning time, that night was falling around me. Everyone was asleep and there was no rush. I could look at all the parts of the vacuum and think about how they could be put together differently, combined with other things and made into something new.
I imagined that when the flower moved backward time reversed, to before the news about Inquiry. To before my uncle died, when he held me in his lap as he typed on his computer or pored over sheets of paper with faint blue pictures on them. I tried to imagine before that, further back than I could actually remember, to before I came to live with my aunt and uncle. Back to when my parents were alive, but the flower didn't go that far.
I let go of the fan and ...
Space is cruel to the human body. We aren't machines, rockets with metal skin and polymer bones, rovers with microchips for guts. Our bodies are full of fluid and soft tissue. We aren't built for space. Our thoughts, the things we know, are sturdier in zero gravity, but they originate in gray matter. They change shape, even disappear in the face of disorientation, dehydration, oxygen deprivation. Because ideas require bodies too, hands, lips, a tongue, ears. Otherwise they're about as useful as dust motes drifting in the air.
When I was twelve years old and watched test rockets spark through the sky outside my aunt Regina's house, I imagined their destinations-perfectly round planets colored red and pink and white. I pictured spacesuits, puffy and bright against a black expanse. It didn't occur to me to think about the bodies inside those suits, the brains inside those helmets.
Not until a frozen day in November when the news came that the Inquiry explorer was in trouble. It was on a six-year mission, the first of its kind, to travel farther in our solar system than any manned mission had gone before. Inquiry was special; more than a decade of research at the National Space Program had gone into building the explorer, and it was manned by four of the most talented astronauts in the world.
It was a Saturday, late morning. I sat in the window seat in the living room with a book on my lap: New History of Energy. A chapter was devoted to my uncle and his famous fuel cell. The book smelled like him-like metal shavings and pen ink. Since he'd died I'd read the chapter at least twenty times.
I turned a page. Outside, rockets launched from the NSP campus lit up the hard gray sky. The sound of the TV came from the living room; a man was talking about Inquiry. I went into the hallway to listen and my limbs went cold. The explorer had lost all propulsion control just as it was beginning its orbit around Saturn.
The newscaster lowered his voice and began talking about the minutes leading up to when the explorer lost power. He said its fuel cells were suspected. But that couldn't be right because my uncle had invented those cells. I moved closer, my stomach a heavy weight. He didn't say anything more about the cells. Instead he talked about the Inquiry crew, and I grew impatient because I already knew everything about them, where they grew up, how old they were, what they had studied in school. If they had siblings and how many. Their hobbies and what they liked to read-I could tell you every detail.
The newscaster began reading from a statement issued from NSP. They were in constant communication with Inquiry, it said, and were working around the clock to troubleshoot the suspected fuel cell malfunction. Inquiry had recently received an unmanned supply capsule, the second of twelve scheduled to reach it at six-month intervals, and had ample food and water and an open line of communication with Earth. NSP was confident a solution was imminent. The crew were not in any immediate danger and had been in contact with their families. Then the man stopped talking about Inquiry and the weather report came on.
I returned to my spot in the window and called the dogs, Reacher and Duster, to come sit with me, but neither came. I felt chilled and stiff, and pulled my sweater to my chin. The words in New History of Energy swam on the page. I got up, went into the kitchen, and opened the closet door.
Inside was my aunt's new vacuum, a sleek silver machine with a nozzle like a two-headed snake. I used a knife to disconnect the nozzle, take out the screws, and remove the plates and filters. When I lifted the motor's cover the smell of dust and paper filled my nose. The fan inside was a perfect plastic flower, with curved gray petals and a small red center that made a soft clicking sound when I turned it with my finger. Clockwise, and then counterclockwise. I imagined that when the flower moved forward I was turning time, that night was falling around me. Everyone was asleep and there was no rush. I could look at all the parts of the vacuum and think about how they could be put together differently, combined with other things and made into something new.
I imagined that when the flower moved backward time reversed, to before the news about Inquiry. To before my uncle died, when he held me in his lap as he typed on his computer or pored over sheets of paper with faint blue pictures on them. I tried to imagine before that, further back than I could actually remember, to before I came to live with my aunt and uncle. Back to when my parents were alive, but the flower didn't go that far.
I let go of the fan and ...
