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An easy read with complex scientific ideas in its focus. Sally Adee takes the reader from batteries made of dead frogs in the 19th century to the problems caused by medical device manufacturers going bankrupt in the 21st, stopping along the way to explain proton pumps, ion channels, and the importance of electrical signaling in fetal development. After all, our DNA says that we should have brown or green eyes, but it has nothing to say about how many eyes we should have or where on our body they should go. Adee compares DNA to hardware and "the body's bioelectric code" to software that runs on that hardware. She makes a convincing case for why we should set aside qualms based on the long history of quackery and con artists marshaling electrical signals in the body to their cause and embrace the 21st century as the century of bioelectricity and the bioelectrical code.

This is a piece of historical fiction that takes us to Sudan, during the 1880s, the end of the Ottoman empire. There are several main characters, but the one whose arc unites them all is a spirited young woman who loves the river as if it is her own mother. Her journey from the lush highlands, through the desert, to the cities of Sudan (mainly Al-Ubeid and Khartoum) introduces us to a young merchant turned Islamic scholar, a lout turned soldier, a mother-in-law who keeps her penchant for trading a secret, a widowed Scottish painter who wishes only to return to his daughter, and historical figures such as British Generals and a Muhammad Ahmed ibn Abdullah, a self-styled messianic prophet and leader of the uprising against Egyptian rule. Throughout, the experiences and voices of women in war, women in a patriarchal society, are centered and uplifted.

Listening to the audiobook is highly recommended. The narrator captures various voices with precision and care. Although her Scottish accent is a bit off, it barely warrants mentioning in light of the many other accents she pulls off flawlessly. The writing is beautiful and eloquent, with no repetitive tics that sometimes mar narrative storytelling. The structure is thoughtful and surprising. The denouement is sad, joyful, and satisfying in just the right measures.

Correction: The exiled Vegas priest is actually named Arturo.

Long ago, the earth's rains turned poisonous. Thus, the only places where humanity survives (barely) are in the deserts. The people who dwell in the North American desert west of the Mississippi call it "the Remainder." This is where Magdala is born.

But the desert also sickens and kills its occupants. Madgala must survive thirst, hunger, animal predators, human predators, and "stuffed men": those who've succumbed to the sickness and become one with the desert and its creatures. The sexual violence of human predators is dealt with realistically but not gratuitously. Although the author's vision of the future is dark, it's also shot through with threads of hope and rumors of miracles.

People who liked Rebecca Roanhorse's "Sixth World" series will love this. "Poetic precision" is a good phrase for the storytelling. In this world, there are still a few road signs and billboards here and there, and their fading words always seem to place the narrative's events in the perfect frame.