‘The average legislator is driven by the desire to cool his molten ignorance into some lasting obstacle’
I couldn’t resist starting this review with a direct quote as Slaughtermatic contains some of the most intensely stylish and sharp prose I have read in any fiction across any genre. Steve Aylett has a gift for gonzo that makes him one of the most interesting writers I have encountered and while reading this book I regularly read sections aloud, just to hear the twisted and wonderful phrases that Aylett uses.
Characters don't just fall to the floor in Slaughtermatic. They slump down walls 'like a scandal-wracked mayor'. Hotdogs aren't big, they’re 'the size of a barrage balloon'. Lovestruck hearts 'Swell like a cancer'. Aylett is the antidote to cliche, never taking the easy similie or metaphor, always going for something more apt, something more original.
Slaughtermatic is set in Beerlight, a world of extreme carnage and killing, where contract killers hold public conferences, ‘murder is a mannerism’, and crime is the last real artform. Dante Cubit, along with his perpetually depressed accomplice The Entropy Kid, raids a bank, seeking a book so mind-wracking that no-one has survived a full reading of it. To do so he subverts a time distorting lock on the bank vault holding the book and generates a second version of himself, planning to execute his doppleganger at the conclusion of the heist. Naturally, Dante #2 isn’t keen on this solution and escapes, leading Dante #1 along with a host of murderers and cops (which is effectively the same thing in Beerlight) on a bullet-holed, acid-trip of a chase through Aylett’s crazed city of criminal artistes.
Aylett's ideas surge through Slaughtermatic in near overwhelming torrents. The Entropy Kid uses a Kafkacell cannon, a weapon that shows the victims perspective of their last moments to its wielder. A police tank turret has a a built in randomiser to ensure that only the appropriate number of random bystanders are mown down when it fires. Jukeboxes in rough bars play soundtracks composed entirely of firing weapons, some of which is considered ‘elevator gunfire’ and offensive to serious aficianados. ‘Zero Approach’ weapons ‘only shoot people who are asking for it’ and have driven the homicide rate through the roof. A cop uses a ‘Colt Demograph’ a gun that can be set for age, weight, income, racial background, etc. to help select targets.
There’s a great idea on almost every page, and Aylett tells a scintillating story of extreme violence and mayhem, leavened with weirdness and genuine wit. His characters regularly muse on the most outlandish of subjects, and declaim their odd, violent and often poetic philosophies aloud - imagine Quentin Tarantino with an unlimited budget, no constraints, and more than a touch of madness.
Aylett's book isn't perfect. It's a little hard to follow. Occasionally the style seems to come before the substance of the story, as though the author had a great idea and just couldn't resist shoe-horning it in. However, to my reader's eye this hail of ideas is worth it.
Slaughtermatic is a crazed, random, sometimes exhausting but overall invigorating meteor storm of a novel that will mercilessly pound the language centres of your brain until you either convulse with a mixture of laughter and awe or pitch the book out the nearest window. My windows remain unbroken, and this (slightly) flawed novel is one of my all-time favorites.