This is a dire piece of drek. It combines everything that was bad about the New Wave, made the sex and violence both utterly gratuitious and utterly uninteresting, and makes blunders about biology, physics, and computers on nearly every page.

But what's worse is that it's not a novel. It is, instead, a writer's bible for what could be a novel. The structure alternates between chapter long exposatory dumps, and chapter long meetings between talking heads where they give each other "As you know, Bob" style exposatory lumps.

Avoid.

I, Weapon was one of the first SF books I ever recall reading back in '82 or so when I discovered the public library (I was 10).

I thought it was awesome. Sex, violence, weird aliens, slimy creatures, and weird aliens having slimy sex with violent creatures.

I reread it a couple years ago, and literally had to laugh out loud at how terrible it was. Even worse than John Norman's Gor series.

Pretty entertaining, even if it will never be literature. If you make yourself read stuff like "The Fountainhead", you might as well relax, throw some Dub Reggae on, have a mohito, and laugh at this ludicrous book.