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432 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1987
I always assumed that Shaun Hutson's Slugs would be the worst book I ever read. People being chased and caught by ferocious, man-eating slugs was sufficient to break my usually robust suspension of disbelief.
However, Cradle was bad in a whole different way. I don't mind character development in science fiction, but the clumsy attempts at it in this novel are just embarrassing to read. A typical chapter could be paraphrased by:
Steve turned away from the courgette-shaped alien. Suddenly he was fifteen years old again, vividly reliving a traumatic experience; probably one involving a courgette. Sex was probably involved too. When the memory ran out of narrative flow he realised he was sad. 'I'm so sad,' he thought, sadly. Then he kicked a puppy lest anyone saw through his tough-guy exterior and realised he just wanted to dance.
The author(s) feel obliged to point out the deep, psychological reasons behind each barb the two main characters exchange, until fifteen pages from the end when these two admit to each other what terribly hackneyed characters they are and hook up. Despite hating themselves and one another. Worse, most of the 368 pages in the book are made up of this stuff, the actual science fiction is crammed into three brief 'interlude' chapters and some barely developed scenes toward the end. After discovering an alien spacecraft during one of these rare late scenes the protagonists are remarkably nonchalant, occasionally remarking that the whole thing feels like a science-fiction book. At this point I couldn't help but imagine the two authors nudging me and winking, proclaiming "Because it is a science-fiction book, geddit? Geddit?!" Ah, forget it.