Arthur C. Clarke's 2001 series is one of the most recognizable science-fiction sagas of all time. It's also one of the most human, concerning itself not just with technological speculation but with the possibility of people far greater than ourselves and the certainty of things forever beyond our comprehension. The new 3001 brings the saga to a close, answering all our questions about the function of the monoliths, explaining what happened to HAL and Dave, and tying up all the loose ends for good—which is the book's greatest flaw. As the story begins, comet miners have rediscovered the floating, flash-frozen body of Frank Poole, last seen careening out of the solar system in 2001. Thirtieth-century science revives him, he's reintroduced to the world as it is a thousand years from now, and eventually Poole goes out to Jupiter to see what happened to Dave, why the monolith was full of stars, and so on. He discovers that the monoliths are huge computers, and that they might even be devising humanity's destruction. The problem is tackled in methodical, logical, true hard-science-fiction style. To many readers, this will be a huge disappointment. Clarke loves to teach, to explain, to postulate great possibilities of human achievement; he does so here at the expense of mystery and of his story. It's all very interesting, but the magic is missing: Many readers want to be in awe of the monoliths, and they want to be confused at Dave's transformation into an enormous star-baby. Clarke himself coined the science-fiction principle which states that sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic, and this is almost certainly true. But in literature meant to instill a sense of wonder, it is not always preferable.