This is a delightful story of hyper- but artificial - intelligent bombs, panspermia, intergalactic love. As with Terry Pratchett the fun is as much in the language and details as in the wacky characters and plots.
Another thing she'd gathered, from archival data and personal observation, was that a man in love would infinitely rather dismantle and repair the cylinder-head gaskets on his beloved's car just to earn a fleeting smile than talk for five minutes about the true nature of his feelings.
Of course, I'm not the right person to ask. When I was at school, you could do astrometaphysics or you could learn ballroom dancing. I'm quite a good dancer, as it happens.So if you're an astrometaphysician or a ballroom dancer, this is just the book for you.