If monuments were erected for great disappointments, then the one built for Gregory Benford's "Eater" would be a national treasure.

I've come to expect a lot from Gregory Benford. Over the course of his career, he has firmly entrenched himself as one of the grand masters of hard science fiction. "Artifact," one of Benford's earlier works remains one of my all-time science fiction favorites, and I simply adored "The Martian Race," Benford's last great (and successful) effort. So, when I heard about the release of "Eater", it rocketed right to the top of my list of must-reads.

The premise of "Eater" is first rate. Amy Major, a bright young astronomer makes an incredible discovery -- an astronomical anomaly so bizarre that it will soon attract worldwide attention, and, ultimately, terror. What she has discovered, is sentience -- in the form of a wandering black hole, a black hole that considers the universe its playground, a black hole that has "lived" for billions of years, a black hole that has an insatiable hunger for knowledge.

She has discovered the Eater of All Things.

And it wants to converse with humanity.

The jacket of "Eater" reads like a science fiction lover's dream. I, myself, adore first contact themed novels, and who better to carry it out than Gregory Benford?

But though this concept has infinite potential, "Eater" is, unfortunately, a study in tedium.

I like my science fiction heavy on the science. In fact, I can't remember having ever complained that there was too much science in a novel. Even Greg Bear's science-laden "Darwin's Radio" captivated me, though it required a glossary to facilitate reading -- but Benford's book reads more like an astrophysics text than a novel.

I found myself getting bogged down in the mire of electromagnetic theory, digressions on the nature of singularities, and the like. Though I'm fairly literate when it comes to science, most of this went way over my head -- or maybe, somewhere along the line, I just stopped paying attention.

Following three main characters through the course of the events, "Eater" should be, at heart, a love story -- or maybe even a love triangle. Benjamin Knowlton is losing his beloved wife Channing (who happens to be an ex-astronaut) to cancer. While Channing slowly fades away, in steps Kingsley, Benjamin's old nemesis and on-and-off-again friend. Together, they unravel the mystery and the horror of the "Eater", and fight to save the human race from possible annihilation.

This is the stuff of great drama: old friends and rivals, love and loss, monumental discoveries, and struggle for survival.

So where does Benford's tale fall short?

Characterization fails miserably, and that is a potential death sentence for any book. Of the three main characters, only Channing is remotely sympathetic and three-dimensional. We never really feel Benjamin's grief for his wife's impending death. We never feel the deep-seated rivalry between the two scientists, or the terror of struggle against the unknown. It seems as if the characters only exist for the story's sake.

The pacing in "Eater" is horrendous as well. Slow and stilted, Benford wastes words on tedious explanations of things we don't even care about, but when he hits upon potentially major events, they're glossed over as if they're hardly worth mentioning.

Major cities destroyed. Okay, maybe that should get half a page of text. Hey, if a city gets blown off the face of the earth, it's gone. What more is there to say? Move on. Let's get back to the science.

Benford never quite pulls it all together to make "Eater" the science fiction classic it could be. He seems to have taken this novel and used it simply as a platform for his scientific theories. Not once was I drawn into this fictional world, nor was I compelled by the characters or their plight.

If you want to read a great novel with terrific characters, a fabulous plot, and breakneck pacing, pick up Benford's "The Martian Race". It's everything a great science fiction epic should be.

And do yourself a big favor. Tempting though it might be, with its compelling cover and mouth-watering jacket copy, leave "Eater" on the bookstore shelf to collect dust. For a master of science fiction, this is a mockery.

Gregory Benford, I'm ashamed.