Prism is a science fiction novel that follows Vernon Vining, an investigator with an unusual sensitivity to the natural world, as he’s sent to a distant planet called Prism to solve a life-or-death mystery. The planet is a technicolor ecosystem where everything shifts through endless shades. The local life communicates by flashing patterns of light instead of sound, and the human settlers, who initially thrived, now face a frightening problem after a worker dies from a catastrophic and inexplicable internal breakdown. Vernon and his longtime partner Sam are sent across light-years to figure out what Prism is trying to say and how to stop the danger before the entire colony must be evacuated.

Vernon’s voice is warm and wandering in a way that makes even technical explanations feel personal. He reflects on childhood, on breezes and falling leaves, and somehow those memories fold into his ability to understand alien worlds. I liked that. It made the story feel grounded even while describing shimmering forests and oceans that blink like jewels. The author leans into color as a living force, almost a language, and that choice gives the book a dreamy undercurrent. The pacing sometimes slows, but the wandering feels intentional, as if we’re supposed to drift a little so Prism’s strangeness can seep in. I didn’t always know where the story was taking me, but I didn’t mind being led.

What surprised me most was how gently the book handles first contact without making it sentimental. The native creatures don’t speak. They glow. They flash warnings or greetings that humans barely know how to read. When Vernon and Sam try to interpret those signals, the book plays with the idea that meaning might hide in anything. A ripple in water. A field shifting from green to gold. Even a sudden, planet-wide burst of color that feels like a greeting from the world itself. I found myself wondering, along with the characters, whether we’d notice such messages on Earth, or whether we’ve forgotten how. The mystery at the heart of the plot gives the story momentum, but it never overshadows the quieter reflections about perception, patience, and what it takes to truly listen.

By the end, I felt like I’d spent time in a place that was oddly soothing despite the danger. The book is science fiction, but it carries the tone of a field journal mixed with a travel diary. I’d recommend Prism to readers who enjoy reflective sci-fi, worldbuilding built around sensory detail, and stories where the “alien problem” is really a communication problem at heart. If you like stories that move with curiosity and a steady, thoughtful rhythm, you’ll probably enjoy settling into Prism for a while.

Pages: 227 | ASIN: B0CHL7WRTG