[He] sensed their minds, a tangle of thoughts and memories that impinged upon his consciousness in waves of words and images, too weak and impressionistic at this distance to cause him distress.
Right off the bat, in the first few pages of Necropath I came across some very nice descriptive passages that somehow seemed to encapsulate a lot of what I enjoy about Science Fiction and the sense of wonder it can evoke.
To the west, over India, constellations rose in the indigo expanse of the hot night sky. Many of the stars harboured inhabited worlds, planets settled from Earth or occupied by sentient alien species— but they appeared tonight as they had for aeons: bright points of light scintillating in the interstellar darkness.
Here’s the thing: I believe that we can, and should read books that touch us on different levels. Some books have a lot of intellectual value, while others just strum some primal chord. And it is true that not all people enjoy the same thing, which is what makes reviewing books such a potentially tricky business.
A hundred metres across the deck, the Pride of Xerxes was secure in its berth, the captive of a hundred magnetic grabs and grapples—a monstrous praying mantis fashioned from grey steel, its company colours excoriated by passage through the void. To complete the image of a captured insect, a dozen engineers swarmed over its carapace like tiny predators.
But (and this is important): despite all the mention of stars and spaceships, this isn’t actually a space travelly kind of novel at all. This is a future noir novel (with a touch of horror) that has more in common with Blade Runner than Star Wars. Oh, there are aliens, and they are central to the story, but other than one quick outing to a distant planet, most of the action takes place on Earth. And, more specifically, on Bengal Station.
Bengal Station was a cultural amalgam of Calcutta and Bangkok: on the upper-deck the latest polycarbon architecture designed in India and Thailand created a state-of-the art skyline, while overhead fliers mach’d along colour-coded air corridors.
The nineteen levels below were enclosed, each shelf a claustrophobic hive-city of corridors, walkways, and roads between cramped, two-storey structures, inhabited by citizens who never saw the light of day for years on end.
So, Necropath: it is a distressing and uneasy read containing themes like child prostitution, human trafficking, gender based violence, racial stereotyping, social stratification, false religion and exploitation (to name but a few). It also contains some sex scenes that make Ringworld’s rishathra pale in comparison (yes, with Aliens – so cringe away if you must). Finally, there’s a good old Lovecraftian theme here, what with mysterious alien gods and sinister cults.
”Your god is evil.”
In the end I quite enjoyed it! It’s edgy and gritty, and violent when you want it to be. That’s Noir for you. And of course, I especially liked the cynical (telepathic) lead character…
“Tell me, what are you doing here if you’re not mourning?"
"I’ve come to sneer," he said.
All in all a rewarding experience.