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512 pages, Paperback
First published December 4, 2018
I read this for the local SF book club, because one club member had accidentally read it by mistake instead of the previous month's book, and, I dunno, perhaps he didn't want to suffer alone.
This is Cobley's eighth book (and first standalone). The author is very impressed with all his hard work and has in the past complained about people giving his books low Amazon ratings on the grounds that they are not as bad as the Eye of Argon. Good news: this isn't! But it is
definitely in the bottom 20% of books I've read lately. Probably the bottom 5%. And that includes the fanfic.
Iain Banks puffs the author on the cover: presumably this was for an earlier book, but I really, really wonder why. It is possible that this book is drastically worse than everything else he's ever written: a 'contractual obligation book', as it were. But I wouldn't bet on it.
It was reviewed ecstatically by Eric Brown in the Guardian, which you'd usually assume would be a good sign. However, um, the acknowledgements at the back specifically thank... Eric Brown! Yes, this was a classic piece of log-rolling.
What does the author get right? It's hard to say. I started out thinking his grasp of pacing wasn't bad, but then the middle of the book happened. He does manage to flow from one page to the next reasonably well, I suppose. He is good at setpiece scenery, as long as you can read past the clunkiness of the descriptions and everything that happens in amongst this scenery.
His worldbuilding is not bad, as long as you ignore the fact that he doesn't know how orbits work (you cannot connect planets to each other with cables, nor can you connect a star to all its planets with cables, no matter what they are made of, unless they are of infinitely variable length and you don't mind them getting massively tangled up and/or breaking) and apparently not how living organisms work (you don't need to 'scan for life signs' if you are looking at possible mammals and have a camera, you just turn the camera on, since they pick up IR). He seems to think you can freeze time but still wander around the time-frozen region and look at it, as if light is unaffected even though time is explicitly stated to be frozen for the stars in the region and we wander around near one without getting roasted. I don't think he's very good at thinking through the consequences of his worldbuilding.
But even given that... the worldbuilding has bizarrely modern-day aspects, some sufficiently dated that I could guess the author's age, knowing he was English. Everyone's using Imperial and multiplying and dividing things by twelve as a matter of course: thus, author is over fifty. I just checked Wikipedia: Michael Cobley is 59. It is not plausible to me that a far-future society's members would use metaphors like "comparable to being pulled over by the cops for having a faulty indicator glyph", particularly given the near-complete absence of the forces of law and order everywhere else in the plot. "Indicator glyphs" are mentioned nowhere else: of course they aren't.
But forget the worldbuilding. The first thing that will catch the sufferer's eye is none of this: it's the number of grossly infelicious phrases and outright grammatical errors. The prologue and first two
chapters are much worse than the rest of the book for this, which makes me suspect they were either added late (and not proofread) or added early and never revised. In both cases I'm left wondering whether Orbit has any editors or proofreaders. Surely any competent one would have
caught this:
"Such babbling delirium can only be fuelled by some kind of mental derangement", he paused to rub an itch on his back against a section of the ribbed surface of the garage’s bulkhead interior.
He was still tracking the intruder, assigning additional system resources to enhance the image for more detail and texture yet, stubbornly, it refused to resolve into anything but a black silhouette.
"Please explain, please identify yourself."
So here they were on a desert planet called Ong, so far off the beaten track that Earthsphere was unheard of and the mighty Sendrukan Hegemony was known as the semi-legendary Perpetual Empire.
The thing is full of obtrusive infodumps, starting with a coincidental meeting with a deep-space probe that just happens to portentuously dump vague allusions to the plot to come before so-conveniently running out of power (?! it's an extragalactic probe, it should have power for eons). It is never explained how this probe got to learn any of this stuff, nor who sent it, nor why it should be interested in finding out yet uninterested in telling anyone about it in any kind of useful fashion. The extragalactic probe speaks English! Everyone speaks English, even people from millions of years in the past: if they are mentioned as wearing any kind of translator device this is because it is
going to break down.
Most of these infodumps come from characters who spend nearly all their time offscreen, and they're full of some of the worst technobabble I have ever read. The on-screen characters basically just do whatever the hell they want, without planning, and get nowhere until someone offscreen turns up abruptly to impede them or assist with newly-introduced technobabble. The technobabble is literally Trekkian in that you could replace it all with "tech the tech" and the meaning would not change -- except that it's sometimes inconsistently spelled on the same page, which Trek would never do (e.g. "master directives network" suddenly becomes the "master directories network" and is then never mentioned again.)
The offscreen characters who drive the plot are mostly much more interesting than the actual protagonists, but get very little page time despite doing everything significant to the plot themselves. The principal protagonist does nothing useful. He is identified in the first terrible infodump as "one who doubts himself", but never shows a hint of self-doubt. What he is is one who swears a lot in terrible invented slang ("put a lag on the blag, ould son", "skagging",
"bastarding hell" no that is not how expletive substitution works in English, you cannot cut the "ing" off "fucking" and attach it to another word like this). He's one who is clearly a moron, acting more or less at random without thinking at all, explicitly refusing to plan even when it's essential, and managing to get himself trussed up by randomly attacking someone who taunts him at the one point in the plot at which he really must be unrestrained, which he has just been reminded of on the previous page. But one who doubts himself? No. I guess the author forgot that bit of characterization, just like he sometimes forgets where characters are located and has them enter or leave rooms twice, or has them using things they threw away on the previous page. He has characters talk about things that happened "soon after we met" when that was five minutes ago. On one occasion he has a character describe one he talked to in the previous paragraph as missing, possibly because he mixed up the names. (Another character was missing at the time). That was in chapter one, and was when I realised that nobody had proofread or edited this.
The author has clearly seen Firefly and now and then the villain and/or protagonist channels Mal Reynolds, e.g. the villain describing branding the protag's crew as "just a passing whim that got out of hand". However, Joss Whedon can do camaraderie, oh can he ever. Cobley refers to what he's doing as 'banter' but oh my god could you ever get more clunky than this, even ignoring the horrible fake expletives, most of which appear for the one and only time in this paragraph? Even the register is inconsistent:
"Uh-huh. Look, we’ve been through some pretty crazy stuff, some really weird-ass, skagged-out, brain-mangling shit – and we’re still together. Maybe this guy could be just the guide we need, or maybe he’s a walking, talking scuzzbag sent by some toxic thugazoid to frack us over good and proper. My advice? Hope for the former, but assume the latter. So, with that in mind, what’s our next move?"
But enough about the 'characterization'. What about the plot?
Not only is the plot driven by infodumps, so the protagonist literally has to do nothing but smash something late in the book (which any other character could have done just as well, and which he is explicitly told to do by an offscreen character and even so nearly screws up), but the plot sags and is desperately padded. The protagonist gets dumped into a virtual environment and split into a simulated copy (the author appears to think that being in a virtual environment means you are necessarily a simulated copy of yourself), and later a bunch more people are, which gives the author a good excuse to have characters tell other characters things that already happened earlier in the book. Sometimes he forgets who's who and has characters tell other characters things they
themselves witnessed, or, in one case, actually did themselves. I guess "as you did Bob" is the new "as you know Bob".
The virtual environment is memorable in a bad way. It's run by the sealed evil in a can, and for reasons never clearly explained the evil is running these simulated people through various really bad tests in which their memories get overwritten until you touch particular objects and then they have to solve really clunky detective-style puzzles in unconvincing medieval-ish environments. We go through one or two of these and there is nothing much to distinguish them... but we spend about half the book in there, in an environment in which even the protagonist says that doing, or not doing, anything is more or less pointless because they don't actually have any reason to carry out the commands of the badly-sealed evil in a can in any case. But they do it anyway. I guess they're bored, or the author has to make up a page count.
But don't worry, just as we get close to the climactic part of this, we cut away and cut back once everything is accomplished! I guess the author couldn't figure out how to get his protagonists through the barriers he'd placed in their way: he doesn't even use a handwave, just switching the viewpoint to a character who is conveniently rendered something-like-unconscious for the duration. (The viewpoint hardly ever switches away from the dreadfully-named Brannan Pyke, so this switch stands out.)
The badly-sealed evil in a can swaps people into this virtual environment when it possesses their bodies, and in a twist brazenly stolen from The Anubis Gates sets them up to die right before swapping back. Our protagonist already knows this doesn't work very well because he escaped death and now exists in both places at once (and has convenient visions to remind him of this), and the all-powerful sealed evil in a can is apparently not evil enough to off the copy it's maintaining -- so why on earth does he respond with "anguish" to seeing other members of his crew in there? He knows this is potentially nonlethal because one of those crewmembers arranged for him to avoid death when it happened to him: so why presume that it happened to them? I can only presume that either the author forgot or the protagonist is a moron. Or both, I suppose.
The plot is full of unfired Chekhov's guns. One character is described as being a fused personality after a personality backup went wrong. Even his previous name is given -- but the other character he is a fusion of is someone who stays on the ship for the entire book and we see perhaps twice, and the fused personality is never brought up again. Either the fusion should have happened in the middle of the book, or it should have fallen apart or otherwise caused trouble or benefit to our characters at some point. Instead the author forgot about it.
The entire first half of the book consists of chasing down a contraption called the Angular Eye, which lets you find various relics of ancient civilizations etc. This is all-important to such a degree that the cardboard villain waves it at them before stepping through a portal and vanishing. The portal must have been a mindwipe portal because after our protagonists follow her through it the Angular Eye is never mentioned again.
Talking about guns, the protagonists are obsessed with them. Every one is carefully described (or, rather, undescribed: one gun is said to have "nodes": what do they look like, then?), but... I believe these are people who hunt down relics of ancient civilizations, mostly. Why on earth are they obsessed with weapons? Relics rarely shoot back. Archaeologists, even mavericks, are precise and careful people. This lot never plan anything.
But there are strong female characters! Sure, one of them has the hots for our hero, but she does nothing about it and later on we figure out that in fact they are exes, fairly plausibly depicted at that. A shame that every single one of these apparently strong female characters turns out to be doing the bidding of some man or entity that presents as male, is more or less incapable of acting without continuous direction (the world is ending but the male-presenting characters are gone, let's just sit here and mope until more men turn up) and all of them get more or less killed off by the end of the book. (Mind you, so do most of the male characters -- but not all.)
There is one exception, but a) she's not particularly human b) she is predictably treasonous to the point that I don't understand why everyone doesn't just shoot her on sight, I mean she betrays people even when it is clearly in her best short and long-term interest to cooperate and c) she gets seriously wounded and survives only because a man rescues her.
At least the female characters don't spend their time talking to each other about the men -- but then they hardly talk to each other at all. I'm not sure if this book passes the Bechdel test...
... but frankly even if it doesn't that's not the worst thing wrong with it by far.
I'd recommend not only avoiding this work, but on the basis of that avoiding everything this author has ever written or will ever write. If it wasn't that he's clearly read The Anubis Gates I'd recommend avoiding everything he's ever read as well.