Characters – 4/10
The crew of Redshirts isn't so much a group of characters as they are sock puppets waving around to make Scalzi’s meta-commentary dance. Ensign Andrew Dahl has all the personality of a wet paper towel, and his equally bland teammates exist solely to spit out quippy dialogue and react to the hilarious revelation that they’re fictional. Lieutenant Kerensky, the designated punching bag, is amusing in the way a joke is funny the first time—less so by the hundredth. This book treats character development like an optional DLC and then wonders why no one cares what happens to these people.

Atmosphere/Setting – 3/10
The Intrepid is less of a spaceship and more of a half-hearted Star Trek set that someone forgot to finish painting. Instead of feeling like a real, lived-in world, it exists purely to prop up the book’s meta hijinks. The absurd death toll is supposed to be funny, but since the setting is about as immersive as a cheap TV backdrop, it just feels like a gag that overstays its welcome. Scalzi couldn’t be bothered with world-building beyond what was strictly necessary for the joke, which makes for a sci-fi universe that’s about as deep as a kiddie pool.

Writing Style – 5/10
Scalzi’s prose does the job. That’s about the nicest thing you can say about it. His love affair with dialogue turns the whole book into something that reads less like a novel and more like an overlong TV script—one where every character sounds like they’re delivering punchlines instead of actual conversations. Descriptions are minimal to the point of being nonexistent, and while the fast pace makes for an easy read, it also means there’s no weight to anything. If you like your books snappy but utterly devoid of depth, you’ll be right at home.

Plot – 4/10
The premise? Fantastic. The execution? Not so much. The book starts off strong with an intriguing mystery—then promptly fumbles the bag by revealing everything too soon and running out of steam. By the time the characters break into the real world to confront their puppet masters, the whole thing feels like it’s speedrunning its own conclusion. And those codas at the end? They desperately want to add emotional weight to the story, but it’s hard to get misty-eyed over characters who barely had personalities to begin with. The whole thing is a great idea shackled to a mediocre execution.

Intrigue – 5/10
For the first few chapters, the book keeps you hooked with its central mystery. Then, once the characters figure out what’s going on, it turns into a dull meta-spiral where the same joke is repeated ad nauseam. The stakes are nonexistent, the humor starts wearing thin, and because none of the characters feel remotely real, there’s no emotional investment to be found. By the time the book lumbers toward its conclusion, you’re left wondering if this whole thing was meant to be read in one sitting before you noticed how little is actually happening.

Logic/Relationships – 3/10
The so-called “rules” of the Narrative are about as coherent as a Wikipedia summary of a bad time travel movie. They change whenever the plot needs them to, and characters gain or lose awareness on a whim. Dahl’s “romance” is so weak that you could cut it entirely, and no one would notice. Meanwhile, relationships between characters are surface-level at best, existing only to move the plot along or explain the next meta joke. The book is all concept, no cohesion.

Enjoyment – 4/10
Redshirts is the literary equivalent of a clever tweet—fun for a second, but not something you build an entire novel around. The humor occasionally lands, but the lack of depth in every other aspect drags the whole thing down. If you’re looking for a meaningful sci-fi story, look elsewhere. If you’re here for a smart, biting satire, well…this one barely leaves a scratch. It’s a quick read, but by the end, you’ll probably just wish it had been a short story instead.