A metafictional tragi-comedy that, while generally entertaining, feels a bit directionless and never really takes off.
Niles Golan is an English writer who has moved to Los Angeles to write screenplays (he isn't very good at novels). Technology has advanced a bit, and now fictional characters are bred through DNA-manipulation and cloning into living, breathing bodies, and are known as Fictionals. So there is a real "person" that is Indiana Jones, a real "person" who is Ethan Hunt, etc.
And here the world building around Fictionals gets a bit hazy - hazier than I would've liked. Because a world where you write and then breed characters throws up a lot of questions, questions most of the novel ignores. And I kept bumping my head against this. I tried ignoring it, just accepting the world as it's presented, but then some situations and occurrences lost meaning, or became unclear.
So Fictionals are assembled clones, and the book hints that they don't grow older. Do they really not age, or only not visually? Do they die? How long do they live? Surely they're not immortal.
Not all roles in a film or TV series are filled with Fictionals, human actors and actresses still exist. Why?
Fictionals are seen as non-human, or lesser than human. Why keep them alive after a movie series gets canned? (Harsh, I know, but less so if you truly see them as semi-animals..)
Sex between humans and Fictionals is seen as repulsive (or as a deviant kink, at best), but surely there'd be a thriving business in creating 'sexual models on demand'?
Are there other industries that use these fake people - basically people bred into slavery. Does the army now consist of Fictionals?
And so on. And I know, it's not the point of the novel. But then I find it really hard to formulate what the point is. I think it's trying to say something about what makes a person 'real' or not? The characters sure talk about it a lot, repeating the same arguments over and over, never really getting anywhere (everytime the novel started one of these dialogues up again, I'd find myself audibly sighing).
Our main character is supposed to adapt a 60s screenplay about a James Bond parody into modern times, and that is about as much plot momentum as we'll be getting. Golan is also a bit of a bastard, in the mold of the male anti-hero of last decade's prestige television. It makes it hard to root for him, but maybe that's the point? I really am not sure.
There is a point towards the end of the book where our protagonist reads another author's short story, a pastiche of a 60s Twilight Zone-like story, that is really terrific. It really emulates that style of writing very well, and the story itself is really good.
So, all that said, I did enjoy my time with the novel. It's snappily written, and it did make me laugh a couple of times. In the end, I just wish it had more direction and was less vague in its world building.
(Kindly received a review copy from Rebellion through Netgalley)