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Man Who Melted
The Man Who Melted is a warning for the future. It is the Brave New World and 1984 for our time, for it gives us a glimpse into our own future — a future ruled by corporations that control deadly and powerful forms of mass manipulation. It is a prediction of what could happen...tomorrow. The Man Who Melted examines how technology affects us and changes our morality, and it questions how we might remain human in an inhuman world. Will the future disenfranchise or empower the individual? Here you'll find new forms of sexuality, new perversions, new epiphanies, and an entirely new form of consciousness. Would you pay to "go down" with the Titanic? In this dystopia the Titanic is brought back from the bottom of the sea and refurbished, only to be sunk again for those who want the ultimate decadent experience. Some passengers pay to commit suicide by "going under" with the ship. The Man Who Melted has been called "one of the greatest science fiction novels of all time" by Science Fiction Age and is considered a genre classic. It is the stunning odyssey of a man searching through the glittering, apocalyptic landscape of the next century for a woman lost to him in a worldwide outbreak of telepathic fear. Here is a terrifying future where people can gamble away their hearts (and other organs) and telepathically taste the last flickering thoughts of the dead. From the Trade Paperback edition.
275 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1984
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June 12, 2009
(Reprinted from the Chicago Center for Literature and Photography [cclapcenter.com:]. I am the original author of this essay, as well as the owner of CCLaP; it is not being reprinted here illegally.)
As I've mentioned here before, most fans of science-fiction consider the genre to have now gone through four major periods (or "ages" as the nerds call it) of history: there is the "Golden Age" from when the genre first came into being in the early 1900s; the "Silver Age" of Mid-Century Modernism, when engineers in skinny ties ran around strapping cowboys to the noses of jet-fueled rockets; the "New Age" of the countercultural '60s and '70s, when like everything else in the arts suddenly all the traditional rules of SF were up for grabs; and the "Dark Age" of the '80s and '90s, when postmodernism combined with punk-rock to produce a whole series of heady neo-noirs. (And also as I've mentioned before, I believe that we've been going through a whole new age of SF since around September 11th or so, simply that most people haven't acknowledged it yet, what I suppose you could call the "Accelerated Age" [after the Charles Stross novel:] or the "Diamond Age" [after the Neal Stephenson one:], a Web 2.0ey wave of ultra-optimistic tales concerning the coming merger between the mechanical and the biological...but that's a whole other Locus guest article for a whole other day.) But just like any artistic medium that a person tries to categorize in an overly general way, these four ages still leave a lot of SF over the years unaccounted for; there are for example all the transitional periods between these ages, the counter trends that happen within any major period of history, not to mention the works so jarringly unique that they exist outside of any traditional classification at all.
Take for example the Nebula-nominated 1984 novel The Man Who Melted by Jack Dann, celebrating its 25th anniversary this year with a slick new reprint by our friends at Pyr, a product of one of these exact transitional periods of history I'm talking about; because much like his contemporaries Philip K. Dick, Tim Powers, Roger Zelazny, Larry Niven and others, this is one of the projects to bridge together the New Age and Dark Age of SF, one of those books that helps create a direct line between, say, Frank Herbert and Alan Moore, when otherwise it might be difficult to see such a connection. Or if it helps to think of it in terms of popular music, think of Dann as maybe the SF equivalent of Iggy Pop or the New York Dolls, artists who embraced many of the hippie-like elements of the old '60s counterculture while paving the way for the anger and nihilism of the '80s punk movement directly after them, who took the sexuality and intelligence of the free-love years and added a raw, meth-tinged intensity to it. It's not exactly a masterpiece like is found smack-dab in the middle of major periods of artistic history, but certainly an important and well-done book that shows you how the genre got from one polar extreme to almost its exact opposite in less than twenty years; and since I'm a particularly big fan of these overlooked transitional times in history, of course I'm going to think this book still well worth your time to this day.
Set 200 years in the future, The Man Who Melted portrays an Earth with the same kind of relationship to us as perhaps our modern times would look when viewed by an early Victorian -- that is, a lot of what was there originally is still with us, but with yet another new layer of human technology slapped on top of everything, in this case resulting sometimes in entire cities that now have a glittering "grid" of new infrastructure hovering 30 or 40 feet above the old one, effectively turning all the old streets of New York and Paris (to cite two examples from the book) now into Klieg-lit subterranean crime-infested underworlds. And there's a good reason for this, too, because of a major global natural catastrophe in their past that no one could've possibly predicted: called the "Great Scream," it occurred when one day suddenly thousands of cramped-in urban dwellers around the world started forming by accident a psychic connection with each other, creating these chaotic city-sized hive minds so overwhelming that they caused psychotic snaps among all those "hooked in," resulting in crazed mass rioting that nearly destroyed the planet. And although the worst of it is now over, no one is quite sure when another outbreak will occur, which now gets all national governments around the world nervous indeed whenever too many people gather in one small place; and in the meanwhile, many of these "Screamers" who made up the destructive hive mind are still alive and roaming the streets, merely schizophrenic by themselves but becoming a killing mob whenever a critical mass gathers, which has necessitated the movement of all the non-mad city people into one urban layer higher in the sky, leaving the street-level layer below to the schizos and criminals.
And so as you can imagine, this has had a profound impact on all kinds of details concerning daily life in the future; for example, the sanctity of human life itself seems to be worth less in this post-Scream society than in our times, with such activities as gambling for your own internal organs now their equivalent of a "high-stakes night out" at the casinos. Also, sexual norms have become quite different 200 years in the future; it's now considered perverted to not be bisexual, for example, and menages-a-trois are now considered another legally-binding form of cohabitation. And in the meanwhile, turns out that this Great Scream has left behind a whole new form of human consciousness that used to not exist before, kind of like if you woke up tomorrow and saw on the news that ESP had finally been scientifically proven; not only can people like lovers now psychically connect voluntarily through concentration and practice, but mechanical devices have been built that make this connection automatic, inspiring not only a whole new field of psychiatry but a whole new form of gambling (not to mention a whole new type of bordello). And so that's brought about a dualistic way of thinking of these psychic connections, as "dark" ones versus "light;" and that's inspired the creation of a whole new religion on top of everything else, people who call the Screamers "Criers" instead and believe them to be a form of angel, here to usher humanity into its next tier of evolution, and who hold elaborate illegal rituals where an entire congregation will hook up to a Screamer/Crier at the moment of their death, where acolytes are plunged into a kind of deep psychotic dive that they must mentally "journey" their way out of in order to reach "enlightenment," and thus gain the ability to communicate psychically with each other whenever they want.
Yeah, not exactly Star Wars, which is why these types of books represent only a minor transitional period of the genre's history, but why fans of this period love these books with such an intense passion; because they are extra-dense, extra-subversive tales designed specifically for a smaller niche audience, stories that pile on layer after layer of stream-of-consciousness and eastern religious thought and uncomfortable sexuality. Take for example just all the circumstances surrounding our main character Raymond Mantle, living his life in the middle of all this mess: his wife was one of the many victims of this Great Scream who was turned into a wandering Screamer herself, but with Mantle no longer having any memories of her because of he himself being a minor victim of the Scream too, who is now seeking out this highly dangerous dead-Screamer psychic-joining process that this religious group base their rituals around, so that he can connect with the hive mind and try against hope to discover information about his missing spouse. Freaky enough for you yet? How about adding the fact that the only way he can do this is by entering a sexually explicit threeway relationship with the wife-lookalike who wants to be his new girlfriend, and his platonic same-sex best friend from college who he has a subliminal love/hate relationship with? Now is it freaky enough? No? Well, how about if the missing wife in question is actually Mantle's sister as well, and that the two of them have had an incestuous relationship for decades? Now is it freaky enough?
There's all kinds of weird, morally murky things like this going on in The Man Who Melted; and Dann certainly does not make any of it easy to comprehend, either, writing in a convoluted, dreamlike personal style that's hard many times to keep up with, providing very few out-and-out clues about this ephemeral, purposely spotty backstory but rather making you piece it together yourself a bit at a time as you make your way through it (and in fact, to give you fair warning, I may be way off with some of my own backstory info today; I'm making an educated guess at it too, just like everyone else). But this is precisely why people end up loving books like these, for the same reason so many love Dann's more well-known peer Philip K. Dick; because these kinds of books present a legitimate challenge to the well-read intellectual, a sort of "anti-airport read" if you will, where the whole point is that you have to both be smart and pay a lot of attention to have even an idea of what's going on, but will be rewarded with untold mental riches for doing so. And the attention-paying reader is indeed rewarded by the end of this book, with the manuscript actually having a lot of thought-provoking things to say about love, about letting go, about friendship, about the special connection that seems to exist between two people in an intimate relationship, but with these insights only coming when one is really getting what Dann is going for in the first place.
It has its problems, and I'm sure its detractors are highly tempted to dismiss it as a trippy mess; but even this book's lovers I bet are bound to agree that that's the entire point, that it's an unabashed trippy mess designed exactly for the types of people who like trippy messes. (Like Donnie Darko? Then you like trippy messes.) In any case, The Man Who Melted for sure deserves more attention and more historical acknowledgment than it currently receives, and I applaud Pyr for reissuing it in a major new way and with a major new PR campaign behind it. For all of those who have ever wondered how the peace-loving flower children of the '70s became the safety-pinned punks of the '80s, this book goes a long way towards explaining.
As I've mentioned here before, most fans of science-fiction consider the genre to have now gone through four major periods (or "ages" as the nerds call it) of history: there is the "Golden Age" from when the genre first came into being in the early 1900s; the "Silver Age" of Mid-Century Modernism, when engineers in skinny ties ran around strapping cowboys to the noses of jet-fueled rockets; the "New Age" of the countercultural '60s and '70s, when like everything else in the arts suddenly all the traditional rules of SF were up for grabs; and the "Dark Age" of the '80s and '90s, when postmodernism combined with punk-rock to produce a whole series of heady neo-noirs. (And also as I've mentioned before, I believe that we've been going through a whole new age of SF since around September 11th or so, simply that most people haven't acknowledged it yet, what I suppose you could call the "Accelerated Age" [after the Charles Stross novel:] or the "Diamond Age" [after the Neal Stephenson one:], a Web 2.0ey wave of ultra-optimistic tales concerning the coming merger between the mechanical and the biological...but that's a whole other Locus guest article for a whole other day.) But just like any artistic medium that a person tries to categorize in an overly general way, these four ages still leave a lot of SF over the years unaccounted for; there are for example all the transitional periods between these ages, the counter trends that happen within any major period of history, not to mention the works so jarringly unique that they exist outside of any traditional classification at all.
Take for example the Nebula-nominated 1984 novel The Man Who Melted by Jack Dann, celebrating its 25th anniversary this year with a slick new reprint by our friends at Pyr, a product of one of these exact transitional periods of history I'm talking about; because much like his contemporaries Philip K. Dick, Tim Powers, Roger Zelazny, Larry Niven and others, this is one of the projects to bridge together the New Age and Dark Age of SF, one of those books that helps create a direct line between, say, Frank Herbert and Alan Moore, when otherwise it might be difficult to see such a connection. Or if it helps to think of it in terms of popular music, think of Dann as maybe the SF equivalent of Iggy Pop or the New York Dolls, artists who embraced many of the hippie-like elements of the old '60s counterculture while paving the way for the anger and nihilism of the '80s punk movement directly after them, who took the sexuality and intelligence of the free-love years and added a raw, meth-tinged intensity to it. It's not exactly a masterpiece like is found smack-dab in the middle of major periods of artistic history, but certainly an important and well-done book that shows you how the genre got from one polar extreme to almost its exact opposite in less than twenty years; and since I'm a particularly big fan of these overlooked transitional times in history, of course I'm going to think this book still well worth your time to this day.
Set 200 years in the future, The Man Who Melted portrays an Earth with the same kind of relationship to us as perhaps our modern times would look when viewed by an early Victorian -- that is, a lot of what was there originally is still with us, but with yet another new layer of human technology slapped on top of everything, in this case resulting sometimes in entire cities that now have a glittering "grid" of new infrastructure hovering 30 or 40 feet above the old one, effectively turning all the old streets of New York and Paris (to cite two examples from the book) now into Klieg-lit subterranean crime-infested underworlds. And there's a good reason for this, too, because of a major global natural catastrophe in their past that no one could've possibly predicted: called the "Great Scream," it occurred when one day suddenly thousands of cramped-in urban dwellers around the world started forming by accident a psychic connection with each other, creating these chaotic city-sized hive minds so overwhelming that they caused psychotic snaps among all those "hooked in," resulting in crazed mass rioting that nearly destroyed the planet. And although the worst of it is now over, no one is quite sure when another outbreak will occur, which now gets all national governments around the world nervous indeed whenever too many people gather in one small place; and in the meanwhile, many of these "Screamers" who made up the destructive hive mind are still alive and roaming the streets, merely schizophrenic by themselves but becoming a killing mob whenever a critical mass gathers, which has necessitated the movement of all the non-mad city people into one urban layer higher in the sky, leaving the street-level layer below to the schizos and criminals.
And so as you can imagine, this has had a profound impact on all kinds of details concerning daily life in the future; for example, the sanctity of human life itself seems to be worth less in this post-Scream society than in our times, with such activities as gambling for your own internal organs now their equivalent of a "high-stakes night out" at the casinos. Also, sexual norms have become quite different 200 years in the future; it's now considered perverted to not be bisexual, for example, and menages-a-trois are now considered another legally-binding form of cohabitation. And in the meanwhile, turns out that this Great Scream has left behind a whole new form of human consciousness that used to not exist before, kind of like if you woke up tomorrow and saw on the news that ESP had finally been scientifically proven; not only can people like lovers now psychically connect voluntarily through concentration and practice, but mechanical devices have been built that make this connection automatic, inspiring not only a whole new field of psychiatry but a whole new form of gambling (not to mention a whole new type of bordello). And so that's brought about a dualistic way of thinking of these psychic connections, as "dark" ones versus "light;" and that's inspired the creation of a whole new religion on top of everything else, people who call the Screamers "Criers" instead and believe them to be a form of angel, here to usher humanity into its next tier of evolution, and who hold elaborate illegal rituals where an entire congregation will hook up to a Screamer/Crier at the moment of their death, where acolytes are plunged into a kind of deep psychotic dive that they must mentally "journey" their way out of in order to reach "enlightenment," and thus gain the ability to communicate psychically with each other whenever they want.
Yeah, not exactly Star Wars, which is why these types of books represent only a minor transitional period of the genre's history, but why fans of this period love these books with such an intense passion; because they are extra-dense, extra-subversive tales designed specifically for a smaller niche audience, stories that pile on layer after layer of stream-of-consciousness and eastern religious thought and uncomfortable sexuality. Take for example just all the circumstances surrounding our main character Raymond Mantle, living his life in the middle of all this mess: his wife was one of the many victims of this Great Scream who was turned into a wandering Screamer herself, but with Mantle no longer having any memories of her because of he himself being a minor victim of the Scream too, who is now seeking out this highly dangerous dead-Screamer psychic-joining process that this religious group base their rituals around, so that he can connect with the hive mind and try against hope to discover information about his missing spouse. Freaky enough for you yet? How about adding the fact that the only way he can do this is by entering a sexually explicit threeway relationship with the wife-lookalike who wants to be his new girlfriend, and his platonic same-sex best friend from college who he has a subliminal love/hate relationship with? Now is it freaky enough? No? Well, how about if the missing wife in question is actually Mantle's sister as well, and that the two of them have had an incestuous relationship for decades? Now is it freaky enough?
There's all kinds of weird, morally murky things like this going on in The Man Who Melted; and Dann certainly does not make any of it easy to comprehend, either, writing in a convoluted, dreamlike personal style that's hard many times to keep up with, providing very few out-and-out clues about this ephemeral, purposely spotty backstory but rather making you piece it together yourself a bit at a time as you make your way through it (and in fact, to give you fair warning, I may be way off with some of my own backstory info today; I'm making an educated guess at it too, just like everyone else). But this is precisely why people end up loving books like these, for the same reason so many love Dann's more well-known peer Philip K. Dick; because these kinds of books present a legitimate challenge to the well-read intellectual, a sort of "anti-airport read" if you will, where the whole point is that you have to both be smart and pay a lot of attention to have even an idea of what's going on, but will be rewarded with untold mental riches for doing so. And the attention-paying reader is indeed rewarded by the end of this book, with the manuscript actually having a lot of thought-provoking things to say about love, about letting go, about friendship, about the special connection that seems to exist between two people in an intimate relationship, but with these insights only coming when one is really getting what Dann is going for in the first place.
It has its problems, and I'm sure its detractors are highly tempted to dismiss it as a trippy mess; but even this book's lovers I bet are bound to agree that that's the entire point, that it's an unabashed trippy mess designed exactly for the types of people who like trippy messes. (Like Donnie Darko? Then you like trippy messes.) In any case, The Man Who Melted for sure deserves more attention and more historical acknowledgment than it currently receives, and I applaud Pyr for reissuing it in a major new way and with a major new PR campaign behind it. For all of those who have ever wondered how the peace-loving flower children of the '70s became the safety-pinned punks of the '80s, this book goes a long way towards explaining.
January 14, 2019
It's weird. Well written, starts well, then slowly goes downhill from there. I think the title refers to, this case, me as the reader.
July 4, 2009
I had trouble finding my way into this book, and keeping a hold on it once I was in. The synopsis was interesting, if a bit misleading. The premise is that the Earth has been scoured by a "Great Scream", some sort of telepathic tidal wave of insanity that killed millions and left millions more mindless. Ray Mantle lost his wife and all his memories of their time together in the Great Scream, and is trying to find her. Religions have formed around groups of 'Screamers', who enable people to telepathically link with each other and with the dead. The other half of the story involves Joan, a woman Ray has become involved with while searching for his wife, and Pfeiffer, a man from Ray's past who shows up unannounced and tries to resume their very strange relationship, which seems to consist mostly of Ray and Pfeiffer insulting, condescending to, and one-upping each other.
Dann does a good job of creating a viable future world -- considering the book was written in the early 80s, his worldwide "Net" is quite prescient. The technology is convincing; the highly sophisticated casinos where one can gamble with one's own organs while telepathically linked with one's opponents in order to compete on a mental level as well as in the traditional way is vivid and disturbing. I was less engaged by the ceremony which Ray undergoes in yet another attempt to locate Josiane -- his wife, who, as it happens, is also his sister (yep, we're that far in the future and things are just that hip and crazy. Whatever, I'm not here to judge. But ew). All of the religious characters are sort of half-drawn, to my mind -- they're all solemn and kind and ready to comfort anyone with sex who might need it, but there's no real articulation of their beliefs that I could see.
So there's an aborted attempt at a telepathic linking, interrupted by men with guns, then the eventual reuniting of Joan and Pfeiffer with Mantle, who engage in a strange and sad menage a trois which continues until they all end up on a re-enactment of the voyage of the Titanic. Again, this episode seems strangely truncated, and the ending sort of rushed.
Maybe it's just me. Apparently this is a science fiction classic, and I really did feel that there was a great story in here. I think it was mentioned that it was a combination of three or four short stories -- maybe that was the problem, that they didn't sit easily together as a whole novel.
Or maybe it's simple. Marry your sister and you're asking for trouble.
Dann does a good job of creating a viable future world -- considering the book was written in the early 80s, his worldwide "Net" is quite prescient. The technology is convincing; the highly sophisticated casinos where one can gamble with one's own organs while telepathically linked with one's opponents in order to compete on a mental level as well as in the traditional way is vivid and disturbing. I was less engaged by the ceremony which Ray undergoes in yet another attempt to locate Josiane -- his wife, who, as it happens, is also his sister (yep, we're that far in the future and things are just that hip and crazy. Whatever, I'm not here to judge. But ew). All of the religious characters are sort of half-drawn, to my mind -- they're all solemn and kind and ready to comfort anyone with sex who might need it, but there's no real articulation of their beliefs that I could see.
So there's an aborted attempt at a telepathic linking, interrupted by men with guns, then the eventual reuniting of Joan and Pfeiffer with Mantle, who engage in a strange and sad menage a trois which continues until they all end up on a re-enactment of the voyage of the Titanic. Again, this episode seems strangely truncated, and the ending sort of rushed.
Maybe it's just me. Apparently this is a science fiction classic, and I really did feel that there was a great story in here. I think it was mentioned that it was a combination of three or four short stories -- maybe that was the problem, that they didn't sit easily together as a whole novel.
Or maybe it's simple. Marry your sister and you're asking for trouble.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 13, 2007
The action of the book is set a couple hundred years in the future, in a post-apocalyptic world created by "the Great Scream", which was some sort of telepathic explosion. The protagonist, Ray Mantle, is searching for his wife, Josiane, who was lost in the Great Scream. The setting is both realistic and fantastic, and includes a repeat "last voyage" of the restored Titanic, on which some of the passengers have signed up to die in its preordained collision with an iceberg. In fact, life seems quite cheap in this world.
The book demands a lot from the reader, as it skips among various plot lines, assuming point-of-view in several characters, and explains nothing. You are thrown into a bizarre/familiar world and you must build your own picture of it.
There were times I had to put the book away for a few days, but I kept coming back to it. I have seen this book called an unappreciated classic of speculative fiction. I'm not sure I'd go that far, but it is engaging and thought provoking.
Its frank treatment of sexual themes may offend some readers.
The book demands a lot from the reader, as it skips among various plot lines, assuming point-of-view in several characters, and explains nothing. You are thrown into a bizarre/familiar world and you must build your own picture of it.
There were times I had to put the book away for a few days, but I kept coming back to it. I have seen this book called an unappreciated classic of speculative fiction. I'm not sure I'd go that far, but it is engaging and thought provoking.
Its frank treatment of sexual themes may offend some readers.
February 16, 2019
Una novela lenta, ardua en su inicio, pero que realmente llega a transmitirte una atmósfera de histeria y miedo al siguiente aullido. No creo que sea apta para cualquier lector o para cualquier momento dada su lentitud inicial, sin embargo me pareció bastante original y consigue que encaje incluso algo tan fuera de lugar en esta historia como el Titanic.
May 5, 2012
I enjoyed this book. I've never heard of Jack Dann befor, but I'll be reading more of him after this interesting book. Lush, believable characters with depth, and an interesting grounded vision of the future.
September 30, 2024
Jack Dann's The Man Who Melted follows the struggle and journey of Raymond mantle, a 22nd-century subliminal artist/advertiser who is obsessed with finding his wife, Josiane. Mantle's search picks up speed as he joins a ceremony of the Christian Criers, who plug into dyring "Screamers," as they are called by the masses, with psyconductors, to psychically connect to their unconscious thoughts. Josiane was lost to the Screamers and in the attempt to find her, Ray has lost all of his memories of her. His girlfriend of sorts, Joan, and his oldest friend/enemy Carl Pfeiffer are along for the ride. As a "circuit fantome" (psychic link without the benefit of machines) develops among the three, everyone's secrets are laid bare. Dann's captivating story about a future where psychological intimacy is for sale to the highest bidder is a fascinating study of human nature. The fact that this book, originally published in 1984, sees characters "ordering groceries off the Net" along is incentive enough to read it to see what else Dann envisioned for this particular future. Dystopia, star-crossed lovers, consideration of the existential nature of self, interdependence, trust and intimacy--this book has them all, with shades of Kurt Vonnegut, Philip K. Dick, and Carlos Casteneda.
March 15, 2023
Jack Dann gives us…The Great Scream. A psychic rape triggered by a critical mass of pain and anxiety across the globe. It sent people mad or killed them, or even both. Those not killed by the psychic shock wandered the streets as mindless automatons bent on destruction - Screamers. When artist Ray Mantle and his wife (who is also his sister) were caught up in the initial Scream they were separated, and while Ray survived he is crippled with guilt that Josiane may be dead. Into this tragedy comes Ray’s new paramour Joan, herself a broken psyche, and Ray’s old friend/rival Pfeiffer with whom Ray has a love/hate relationship. This is a seriously destructive triad which forms a folie a trois when they get psychically linked in desperate attempts to locate Josiane. Throw in a death cult based on linking with dead Screamers, and a far-too-realistic reenactment of the Titanic, and you have a visceral novel of deceit and self-destruction worthy of F. Scott Fitzgerald. Don’t look for too much uplift here but by all means read the book.
May 31, 2025
Yes it is well written and contains some heady ideas about where mankind is heading, yet I still found it a difficult slog. Why? Too many lines lost to meandering introspection and lint-gathering. Dann's three main protagonists can't get their acts together as they spin their wheels in and out of one psychic pothole after another and despite the woo-woo explanations behind their actions it just gets annoyingly repetitious. Could have been trimmed by at least 50 pages or so.
November 7, 2024
Honestly, I can't even tell you what this book was about. It was too weird, and Incest just grosses me out.
Some of the imagery of the book was cool, but other than that I was confused half the time and had no idea what was going on.
Some of the imagery of the book was cool, but other than that I was confused half the time and had no idea what was going on.
did-not-finish-or-start
July 16, 2021DNS 7/16/2021
September 16, 2025
what a wild story
Read this for the first time years ago. Some really interesting ideas - and some prescient too. I think it’s unforgettable.
Read this for the first time years ago. Some really interesting ideas - and some prescient too. I think it’s unforgettable.
Read
October 23, 2025A novel by the author of "The Memory Cathedral", winner of the 1997 Aurelius Award for best fantasy novel and winner of the 1997 Nebula Award.
July 18, 2009
I had a hard time reading this book; it just didn't grab me. I felt the narrative was too neurotic--as if the author was the one losing his mind,as well as the main character. It was really disappointing because the concept was very interesting.
About half way through, I found myself not caring about the outcome of the story.
About half way through, I found myself not caring about the outcome of the story.
April 21, 2010
A very odd book, not least of which is contained in the cover, which depicts a balding middle aged dude apparently floating upon the upper forehead of a sleeping woman's head, which also happens to be carved from rock. Not certain if it fits my conception of the prose, but it's a good match in spirit. Because the story is that weird, too. With a great, goofy title, too.
Want to read
November 10, 2008Looking forward to this one...
March 3, 2010
Too odd for me. Not able to grasp the outlying concept and the characterization just doesnt get me either.
Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews