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Chasseurs et collectionneurs
Jonathan Tamberlain, dit le Tomahawk, est un gastrono-miste médico-légal, tout comme son héros : Eliö Lebaubátain, un ancien champion de natation devenu cul-de-jatte. Il court les planètes du Nuage, jusqu’au-delà du rideau de velours, pour goûter et critiquer les plats des meilleurs restaurants de l’univers.
Son plus grand rêve est de retrouver un hôtel légendaire, officiellement disparu dans un bombardement : L’Hôtel Grand Skyes, the Empyrean et son restaurant fabuleux, l’Undersea, le hantent jusqu’aux frontières de la folie. Son enquête le mènera plus loin qu’il ne le pense.
Son plus grand rêve est de retrouver un hôtel légendaire, officiellement disparu dans un bombardement : L’Hôtel Grand Skyes, the Empyrean et son restaurant fabuleux, l’Undersea, le hantent jusqu’aux frontières de la folie. Son enquête le mènera plus loin qu’il ne le pense.
509 pages, Paperback
First published May 5, 2016
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 72 reviews
July 7, 2016
Back in 2013 I read Theatre of the Gods by Matt Suddain. It was trippy, bizarre and utterly enjoyable experience. Since then I’ve been waiting (impatiently) for his next novel to arrive. The good news is that now it is finally here. Welcome to Hotel Grand Skies, we hope you enjoy your stay.
John Tamberlain is the most contrary of characters, just as I’d imagine most food critics to be. I found myself empathising with his plight one moment, then wanting to slap him the next. Utterly obsessed by achieving the gastronomically perfect meal, he sets his sights on visiting the most exclusive establishment in the known universe. What follows is a weird, episodic road trip. Wim Wenders would be proud. On his adventures, the Tomahawk’s travelling companions are Daniel Woodbine and Gladys Green. Daniel, often referred to as “The Beast”, is Tamberlain’s legal counsel and Gladys is the muscle. The constant back and forth between this trio is one of the book’s many highlights. They often display that level of intense bickering that is wholly reserved for the closest of friends. The Beast and Gladys both also act as Tameberlain’s conscience. They point out the many flaws in his myriad schemes. Trust me, there are many schemes.
I could attempt to wax lyrical about the plot to this novel but I don’t think anything that I could possibly write would do it justice. You have to experience Hunters & Collectors for yourself. Let it wash over you and deal with the consequences of your literary sluicing after it is complete. This book is out there in the best ways imaginable. Yes, there is little denying that the text is sometimes challenging and demands you keep your eye on the ball at all times, but that is sort of the point. John Tamberlain’s life is a rollercoaster of decadent excess and you have no choice but to jump on and hope that you’ll survive the ride.
More often than not, just at the point when I thought I had a handle on what was going on, the plot would veer off on some bizarre unexpected tangent. There will be readers who may find this a little off putting, but I genuinely relish any novel that keeps me on my toes like this. When the characters talk to one another it often feels like you’re witnessing some sort of verbal sparring. Part of you is probably wondering “if this book is so dashed odd Pablo, what could you possibly compare it to?” The closest thing to an answer I can give is that Hunters and Collectors is effectively the bastard child of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead and The Grand Budapest Hotel after they have spent a pleasant evening drinking Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters and spooning in front of a roaring fire. I think that is probably specific enough?
In all honesty, Hunters & Collectors defies anything close to categorisation. Part travelog, part diary, part interplanetary thriller. Hell, at one point, I even noticed that our erstwhile hero had misplaced his trousers. I checked and realised I still had mine, so came to the only logical conclusion – we had descending into the realms of classic farce. Like some demented puppeteer, Suddain keeps you guessing with each new chapter.
There has been much pondering about this book while I have been reading it. I’ve come to the realisation that it is one of the most wonderfully surreal and self-contained books I’ve ever read. I’m always delighted when an author really pushes things and goes that extra mile with their fiction. Suddain obviously revels in the worlds he creates. The attention to detail is phenomenal. The tiniest little things have been considered and that level of precision is what really sets this book apart. A quick example – every time a fictional perfume or aftershave is mentioned* Suddain will confirm the tagline used to advertise it. If that’s not a pristine attention to detail I don’t know what is.
I can imagine that Hunters & Collectors won’t be for everyone, it’s literary Marmite. Those that love it will do so unquestioningly while those that loathe it will do so with a passion. To confirm I fall firmly into this first camp. I like little better than being challenged by the fiction that I read. I want to read novels that pick apart my preconceived notions, that play with language and that make me engage my brain. Congratulations to M. Suddain. Hunters & Collectors is both deliciously odd and oddly delicious. I’d imagine that is exactly what you’d want from a book about forensic gastronomy.
Hunters & Collectors is published Jonathan Cape and is available from 7th July. Highly recommended.
* this happens quite regularly when you are a well-travelled, intergalactic food critic. Style is everything dahling!
John Tamberlain is the most contrary of characters, just as I’d imagine most food critics to be. I found myself empathising with his plight one moment, then wanting to slap him the next. Utterly obsessed by achieving the gastronomically perfect meal, he sets his sights on visiting the most exclusive establishment in the known universe. What follows is a weird, episodic road trip. Wim Wenders would be proud. On his adventures, the Tomahawk’s travelling companions are Daniel Woodbine and Gladys Green. Daniel, often referred to as “The Beast”, is Tamberlain’s legal counsel and Gladys is the muscle. The constant back and forth between this trio is one of the book’s many highlights. They often display that level of intense bickering that is wholly reserved for the closest of friends. The Beast and Gladys both also act as Tameberlain’s conscience. They point out the many flaws in his myriad schemes. Trust me, there are many schemes.
I could attempt to wax lyrical about the plot to this novel but I don’t think anything that I could possibly write would do it justice. You have to experience Hunters & Collectors for yourself. Let it wash over you and deal with the consequences of your literary sluicing after it is complete. This book is out there in the best ways imaginable. Yes, there is little denying that the text is sometimes challenging and demands you keep your eye on the ball at all times, but that is sort of the point. John Tamberlain’s life is a rollercoaster of decadent excess and you have no choice but to jump on and hope that you’ll survive the ride.
More often than not, just at the point when I thought I had a handle on what was going on, the plot would veer off on some bizarre unexpected tangent. There will be readers who may find this a little off putting, but I genuinely relish any novel that keeps me on my toes like this. When the characters talk to one another it often feels like you’re witnessing some sort of verbal sparring. Part of you is probably wondering “if this book is so dashed odd Pablo, what could you possibly compare it to?” The closest thing to an answer I can give is that Hunters and Collectors is effectively the bastard child of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead and The Grand Budapest Hotel after they have spent a pleasant evening drinking Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters and spooning in front of a roaring fire. I think that is probably specific enough?
In all honesty, Hunters & Collectors defies anything close to categorisation. Part travelog, part diary, part interplanetary thriller. Hell, at one point, I even noticed that our erstwhile hero had misplaced his trousers. I checked and realised I still had mine, so came to the only logical conclusion – we had descending into the realms of classic farce. Like some demented puppeteer, Suddain keeps you guessing with each new chapter.
There has been much pondering about this book while I have been reading it. I’ve come to the realisation that it is one of the most wonderfully surreal and self-contained books I’ve ever read. I’m always delighted when an author really pushes things and goes that extra mile with their fiction. Suddain obviously revels in the worlds he creates. The attention to detail is phenomenal. The tiniest little things have been considered and that level of precision is what really sets this book apart. A quick example – every time a fictional perfume or aftershave is mentioned* Suddain will confirm the tagline used to advertise it. If that’s not a pristine attention to detail I don’t know what is.
I can imagine that Hunters & Collectors won’t be for everyone, it’s literary Marmite. Those that love it will do so unquestioningly while those that loathe it will do so with a passion. To confirm I fall firmly into this first camp. I like little better than being challenged by the fiction that I read. I want to read novels that pick apart my preconceived notions, that play with language and that make me engage my brain. Congratulations to M. Suddain. Hunters & Collectors is both deliciously odd and oddly delicious. I’d imagine that is exactly what you’d want from a book about forensic gastronomy.
Hunters & Collectors is published Jonathan Cape and is available from 7th July. Highly recommended.
* this happens quite regularly when you are a well-travelled, intergalactic food critic. Style is everything dahling!
October 26, 2019
Suddain’s Hunters & Collectors is one of my favorite books ever. It pains me to see it doesn’t get more hype and recognition. It deserves both.
The book defies easy categorizations but if you like them think about interstellar thriller mixed with horror and grotesque. Add strong prose and vivid imagination to the mix and prepare for a wild ride across the galaxy’s best cuisines. The main character, a food critic who prefers to call himself a forensic gastronomer, Jonathan Tamberlain leads an adventurous life dedicated to finding the perfect meal.
Nicknamed Tomahawk, he is self-absorbed, opinionated and finicky. Restaurateurs and chefs fear him or hate him. And for a reason - when it comes to food, Tamberlain has no mercy, especially for those who kill it twice. He holds tightly to his passion and never let go. It infuses his life with meaning and purpose and becomes the motivator for everything he does. As a result, he rarely pays attention to other people and their feelings. He throws misogynistic and homophobic remarks around and behaves badly but somehow remains likable and relatable.
At one point early in the story, he becomes obsessed with tasting a perfect meal at a fabled Hotel Grand Skies, "a secretive and exclusive haven where the rich and famous retreat to bask in perfect seclusion. A Place where the waiters know their fish knife from their butter knife, their carotid from their subclavian artery, and are trained to enforce the house rules with brutal efficiency".
Helped by his agent David Woodbine, also known as The Beast, and his body-guard Gladys, with whom he shares a difficult history, Tomahawk sets on a quest. The constant back and forth between them made me laugh numerous times and I consider it one of the book’s many highlights. When they reach their destination, an already weird story goes bonkers.
The parts of the story that take place in the hotel will creep you out. Things take a strange and dark twist, but even grotesque atrocities are bathed in a deliciously dark and absurd sense of humor. Things get surreal, and the narrative form is quite unique as we follow the story via notes and letters written by unreliable Tomahawk whose imagination runs wild. Some of his notes tell the story, some share his philosophical ramblings, fears, and deepest thoughts.
I’ve never read anything quite like Hunters&Collectors and I bet you haven’t either. It won't appeal to everyone. Readers enjoying linear plots will probably loathe it. Readers looking for a certain level of weirdness and unpredictability will enjoy it. While I'm not partial to comparing books I'll risk saying that fans of Scott Hawkins' Library at Mount Char will find a similar tone in Hunters & Collectors.
My opinion? I love this book. I absolutely love it. It's hilarious, unnerving, addicting and thought-provoking.
The book defies easy categorizations but if you like them think about interstellar thriller mixed with horror and grotesque. Add strong prose and vivid imagination to the mix and prepare for a wild ride across the galaxy’s best cuisines. The main character, a food critic who prefers to call himself a forensic gastronomer, Jonathan Tamberlain leads an adventurous life dedicated to finding the perfect meal.
Nicknamed Tomahawk, he is self-absorbed, opinionated and finicky. Restaurateurs and chefs fear him or hate him. And for a reason - when it comes to food, Tamberlain has no mercy, especially for those who kill it twice. He holds tightly to his passion and never let go. It infuses his life with meaning and purpose and becomes the motivator for everything he does. As a result, he rarely pays attention to other people and their feelings. He throws misogynistic and homophobic remarks around and behaves badly but somehow remains likable and relatable.
Remember when you were young? When you had few cares and infinite potential? When you owned the world and almost nothing in it? Remember when you weren’t just a ghost who changes faces to suit the weather, or a strange device used by others to manufacture their happiness, but a true being with lungs filled with stories, eyes bruised with happiness?
At one point early in the story, he becomes obsessed with tasting a perfect meal at a fabled Hotel Grand Skies, "a secretive and exclusive haven where the rich and famous retreat to bask in perfect seclusion. A Place where the waiters know their fish knife from their butter knife, their carotid from their subclavian artery, and are trained to enforce the house rules with brutal efficiency".
Helped by his agent David Woodbine, also known as The Beast, and his body-guard Gladys, with whom he shares a difficult history, Tomahawk sets on a quest. The constant back and forth between them made me laugh numerous times and I consider it one of the book’s many highlights. When they reach their destination, an already weird story goes bonkers.
There are principles higher than mere survival. It’s not enough to live this life; there must be a quality to living. There are minimum standards. If a man can’t get an upgrade when almost every other guest in the entire hotel has been brutally murdered, then something is wrong.
The parts of the story that take place in the hotel will creep you out. Things take a strange and dark twist, but even grotesque atrocities are bathed in a deliciously dark and absurd sense of humor. Things get surreal, and the narrative form is quite unique as we follow the story via notes and letters written by unreliable Tomahawk whose imagination runs wild. Some of his notes tell the story, some share his philosophical ramblings, fears, and deepest thoughts.
God, how I hate the future. It’s a cult. A tyranny of progress. And anyone who speaks against it is shunned. But all tyrannies must efficiently erase the past if they’re to work. I like the past. The past was solid, simple, and real. The rooms were large, the food was good, and we knew who our enemies were. I feel misty for old tyrannies. The ones which beat you, enslaved you, tried to break your spirit, and in doing so gave your life the only enhancement it really needs: a sense of purpose. The tyranny of the future doesn’t take away our choices; it swamps us in them. It doesn’t curb our freedoms; it tube-feeds us with them until we rupture like neglected factory geese.
I’ve never read anything quite like Hunters&Collectors and I bet you haven’t either. It won't appeal to everyone. Readers enjoying linear plots will probably loathe it. Readers looking for a certain level of weirdness and unpredictability will enjoy it. While I'm not partial to comparing books I'll risk saying that fans of Scott Hawkins' Library at Mount Char will find a similar tone in Hunters & Collectors.
My opinion? I love this book. I absolutely love it. It's hilarious, unnerving, addicting and thought-provoking.
January 3, 2018
This fabulous book is not only extremely clever, hilariously odd and a little surreal but it is also hugely imaginative and brilliantly accessible (I was expecting it to be a little difficult). Another thing that I wasn't expecting - this book to be so creepy and scary. Science fiction, horror, guidebook. A book of the year.
February 2, 2018
I have never read anything like this. It’s not so much that Suddain bends genre; rather he seems to have created something beyond genre entirely, something that I can barely put into words. I expected literally none of the events of this book, and at each turn was stunned at Suddain’s ability not just to keep everything together, but to also transform it into something even more exciting and bizarre. I cannot praise this book highly enough; I wish I could read it again from scratch.
Read
October 30, 2021The rise and fall of infamous gastronome Jonathan Tamberlain aka the Tomahawk, told in fragments from his beautifully-written if often exasperated letters and journals. As in the only other novel I've read to be narrated by a restaurant critic, John Lanchester's Debt to Pleasure, I suspect the pseudonymous Tomahawk is intended to be a pernickety, unsympathetic and dubiously reliable lead. But how could I not feel for a man who, after a journey to the outer limits of suffering, is mainly upset to have lost his luggage? Who, framed for seemingly trying to provoke a war in which billions would die, can only say that yes, in his writing he may have called several times for the annihilation of humanity, but he wasn't being serious, or at least not entirely? True, I was a little put off by his love for a particular notebook brand, so reminiscent of our own era's silly Moleskine cult, but even there he comes around in the end, discovering instead a love for a cheap alternative with pony stickers in the back. The plot, so far as it matters, concerns his hunt for a legendary hotel, supposedly destroyed and apparently kept secret by a ruthless conspiracy, but mainly this is just something on which to hang an outlandish and often brutal picaresque of which Bonfiglioli could be proud. I could even forgive the stealthing of the science fiction elements, something which often gets my back up as an attempt to pass. Here it speaks more to the realities of life at a certain rarefied level. After all, I suspect there'd be a certain broad similarity between the journals of the Sun King, a modern oligarch and a future 1%er which you wouldn't find in the experiences of the poor bastards responsible for keeping their horses, helicopters and shuttles running.
At least, that goes for the first 200 pages or so. The book's latter half - and I suppose this is a spoiler of sorts, albeit an oblique one - perhaps gripped me less than the beginning. The peregrinations narrow in even as the narrative's focus widens. And yes, I understand the point of making it clear that our self-absorbed boob of a narrator was not in fact the lead character of the story, but very much a Rosencrantz or Guildenstern (or more than either, Polonius). Entirely fair point. Nevertheless, I rather missed him at full bore. And while it is always good to have a satisfactory endgame, a resolution to the big questions, I would have thought it could maybe have been done in say a quarter of the book, rather than a somewhat over-extended half. But, it's rare enough that I get an answer I find half so satisfying as the mystery, and this one did oblige on that score, while only slightly reminding me of the fight scene from Anchorman.
At least, that goes for the first 200 pages or so. The book's latter half - and I suppose this is a spoiler of sorts, albeit an oblique one - perhaps gripped me less than the beginning. The peregrinations narrow in even as the narrative's focus widens. And yes, I understand the point of making it clear that our self-absorbed boob of a narrator was not in fact the lead character of the story, but very much a Rosencrantz or Guildenstern (or more than either, Polonius). Entirely fair point. Nevertheless, I rather missed him at full bore. And while it is always good to have a satisfactory endgame, a resolution to the big questions, I would have thought it could maybe have been done in say a quarter of the book, rather than a somewhat over-extended half. But, it's rare enough that I get an answer I find half so satisfying as the mystery, and this one did oblige on that score, while only slightly reminding me of the fight scene from Anchorman.
September 20, 2016
DAFUQ DID I JUST READ?
Jonathan Salvador "The Tomahawk" Tamerlain, the universe's most jaded, self-centred and cynical restaurant critic - excuse me: forensic gastronomer - develops his latest obsession (find elusive, exquisite restaurant) to self-destruction and beyond to end up in Hotel California. Only worse. And as an epistolary (mostly).
The prose; the dialogues - when I started into this book, I filled the quote-section here on GR every time I found something thoughtful, hilarious, deeply philosophical or cynical. Stopped after 5, because consequentially would have to have quoted half the book. Doesn't work that way when you want to immerse yourself.
This book is pure magic. Only it's not. It's nothing pure ... but then, neither is love. Or the hate for your bodyguard.
Last year, I nearly flipped with this author's Theatre of the Gods; this year -and although it's only September; I'm going to venture that this will be my no. 1 / 2016 or at least in the top 5.
Going to stop here, because the author hates long reviews and has a certain way with things he hates. Also: I am a happy bunny because I will never have to cook for Matt Suddain.
Jonathan Salvador "The Tomahawk" Tamerlain, the universe's most jaded, self-centred and cynical restaurant critic - excuse me: forensic gastronomer - develops his latest obsession (find elusive, exquisite restaurant) to self-destruction and beyond to end up in Hotel California. Only worse. And as an epistolary (mostly).
The prose; the dialogues - when I started into this book, I filled the quote-section here on GR every time I found something thoughtful, hilarious, deeply philosophical or cynical. Stopped after 5, because consequentially would have to have quoted half the book. Doesn't work that way when you want to immerse yourself.
This book is pure magic. Only it's not. It's nothing pure ... but then, neither is love. Or the hate for your bodyguard.
Last year, I nearly flipped with this author's Theatre of the Gods; this year -and although it's only September; I'm going to venture that this will be my no. 1 / 2016 or at least in the top 5.
Going to stop here, because the author hates long reviews and has a certain way with things he hates. Also: I am a happy bunny because I will never have to cook for Matt Suddain.
May 13, 2017
At first I was like: what the hell did I just read O_o
There’s really nothing I can compare H&C to. It's like a book equivalent of the International Assassin episode of The Leftovers (incidentally my favourite episode of television in probably ever) but even that’s a stretch because H&C is a hell of a lot crazier.
But it’s also so good it almost made me pass on in-flight entertainment (I paused reading it only once about halfway through the 7h flight to watch Lethal Weapon, after which Dr Rubin had Gary Busey's face). This is the absolute pinnacle of compliments in my toolkit.
There’s really nothing I can compare H&C to. It's like a book equivalent of the International Assassin episode of The Leftovers (incidentally my favourite episode of television in probably ever) but even that’s a stretch because H&C is a hell of a lot crazier.
But it’s also so good it almost made me pass on in-flight entertainment (I paused reading it only once about halfway through the 7h flight to watch Lethal Weapon, after which Dr Rubin had Gary Busey's face). This is the absolute pinnacle of compliments in my toolkit.
November 19, 2023
My feelings about this hilarious, unnerving, and thought-provoking novel are quite raw, so this review will fittingly match them.
There are certain novels that are built from insecurity. I don’t mean authorial insecurity, but the narrative kind. It is fairly clear from the first few pages of this astounding and ultimately fascinating novel that the specificity of the narrative doesn’t quite match the dependability of the narrator. I would say that it is a symptom of our time to be adrift in a sea of knowledge, while fated to have less than complete knowledge of virtually anything. It is our modern paradox which, it seems, is not so modern.
This is one of the excellent fulcra that M. Suddain wields upon the mind of the reader, feeding delectable morsels of prose directly into our waiting mouths bit by quivering bit. Perhaps too much of a mixed metaphor; this book is hella entertaining, hella well written, and hella satisfying. Structured as an epistolary novel, it borrows from additional sources - journals, packing lists, dreams - to flesh out an ever-expanding field of vision that instead of broadening the narrative into some sort of space opera, narrows it to the setting of a single hotel.
But this is not the usual hotel.
While I hesitate to give too much away - the novel is too rich for me to do that to anyone - we follow, or at least glimpse, a food critic searching for the perfect meal at a fabled and elusive hotel restaurant purportedly for the exclusive and confidential use of the super wealthy. When this hotel is in fact found, this critic brings his agent - he is deeply in debt and needs to review this restaurant to make bank - and a bodyguard - one of my favorite characters in science fiction right now - and they arrive. But their arrival is a bit… bloody.
Good science fiction is thrilling, but is also dangerous. It sometimes is bloody, it scatters guts and skulls around to show that amidst technology we are ultimately human and destined for death. In its showy violence it reminds me a bit of the Shrike, from Dan Simmons’ Hyperion Cantos. The violence has a purpose, it has a bloody mind of its own, and the seemingly hapless trio of heroes have marched straight into it - cocktails in hand, of course.
But if humanity and our vulnerabilities are often exposed in science fiction, this one does ever more to overlay a sort of humanity upon the technology we wield. Our base instincts, our desires, our ingenuity, especially for cruelty… This is a priceless work of art that reminds us who we are. And it does so without the reader really quite knowing what is going on until it is too late.
"We both know there are no gods, and nothing beyond death. True evil goes unpunished. It turns to dust with the good and gentle." (p490)
Aside from a brilliant premise, hilarious moments, and unique narrative format, this is a superb meditation on life, the afterlife, the nature of consciousness… A few choice ruminations that emerged from Suddain’s mind literally stopped my reading in its tracks, made me ponder. I carried this book with me for days, sometimes not even reading it at all, just thinking about its contents. In no particular order: Are we, as humans, imbued with free will, or are we a bunch of code that can be manipulated with a few chemical signals? Can the human brain be mapped and replicated effectively? Is there truly some sort of life after death? If so, does it also include our neanderthal ancestors? Are our minds really the source of all the universe? Is a mind in darkness no mind at all, and when separated from the kingdom of the senses no thought can exist? What assurance could we ever have that we did not just suddenly come into being with a “prefabricated history” embedded within our brains by some sort of “superior intelligence”?
That is only a sampling of the sorts of questions the reader grapples with in the process of this violently hilarious novel. In addition, the metaphysical power of this novel questions our ability to know, to do, to believe anything. Science Fiction as a genre is not powerful due to its technological wizardry, it is so due to our fundamental humanity in the face of change and power themselves.
There are certain novels that are built from insecurity. I don’t mean authorial insecurity, but the narrative kind. It is fairly clear from the first few pages of this astounding and ultimately fascinating novel that the specificity of the narrative doesn’t quite match the dependability of the narrator. I would say that it is a symptom of our time to be adrift in a sea of knowledge, while fated to have less than complete knowledge of virtually anything. It is our modern paradox which, it seems, is not so modern.
This is one of the excellent fulcra that M. Suddain wields upon the mind of the reader, feeding delectable morsels of prose directly into our waiting mouths bit by quivering bit. Perhaps too much of a mixed metaphor; this book is hella entertaining, hella well written, and hella satisfying. Structured as an epistolary novel, it borrows from additional sources - journals, packing lists, dreams - to flesh out an ever-expanding field of vision that instead of broadening the narrative into some sort of space opera, narrows it to the setting of a single hotel.
But this is not the usual hotel.
While I hesitate to give too much away - the novel is too rich for me to do that to anyone - we follow, or at least glimpse, a food critic searching for the perfect meal at a fabled and elusive hotel restaurant purportedly for the exclusive and confidential use of the super wealthy. When this hotel is in fact found, this critic brings his agent - he is deeply in debt and needs to review this restaurant to make bank - and a bodyguard - one of my favorite characters in science fiction right now - and they arrive. But their arrival is a bit… bloody.
Good science fiction is thrilling, but is also dangerous. It sometimes is bloody, it scatters guts and skulls around to show that amidst technology we are ultimately human and destined for death. In its showy violence it reminds me a bit of the Shrike, from Dan Simmons’ Hyperion Cantos. The violence has a purpose, it has a bloody mind of its own, and the seemingly hapless trio of heroes have marched straight into it - cocktails in hand, of course.
But if humanity and our vulnerabilities are often exposed in science fiction, this one does ever more to overlay a sort of humanity upon the technology we wield. Our base instincts, our desires, our ingenuity, especially for cruelty… This is a priceless work of art that reminds us who we are. And it does so without the reader really quite knowing what is going on until it is too late.
"We both know there are no gods, and nothing beyond death. True evil goes unpunished. It turns to dust with the good and gentle." (p490)
Aside from a brilliant premise, hilarious moments, and unique narrative format, this is a superb meditation on life, the afterlife, the nature of consciousness… A few choice ruminations that emerged from Suddain’s mind literally stopped my reading in its tracks, made me ponder. I carried this book with me for days, sometimes not even reading it at all, just thinking about its contents. In no particular order: Are we, as humans, imbued with free will, or are we a bunch of code that can be manipulated with a few chemical signals? Can the human brain be mapped and replicated effectively? Is there truly some sort of life after death? If so, does it also include our neanderthal ancestors? Are our minds really the source of all the universe? Is a mind in darkness no mind at all, and when separated from the kingdom of the senses no thought can exist? What assurance could we ever have that we did not just suddenly come into being with a “prefabricated history” embedded within our brains by some sort of “superior intelligence”?
That is only a sampling of the sorts of questions the reader grapples with in the process of this violently hilarious novel. In addition, the metaphysical power of this novel questions our ability to know, to do, to believe anything. Science Fiction as a genre is not powerful due to its technological wizardry, it is so due to our fundamental humanity in the face of change and power themselves.
November 5, 2017
‘Don’t think about what he’s doing ; think about what the things he’s doing mean’.
Man, the lunacy of this book..so messy, so not “well structured” , so fucked up .
And yet , perfectly written, smart, hilarious and still, in his own odd way, accessible.
Initially I gave this book 4/5 - thought the characters could use more "meat"and that the plot felt at times too chaotic.
Fact is, 3 days after and I don’t feel like picking up any other book except another one of this author.
This is not a perfect book but it is one of the most fascinating reads i had in years.
5/5.
Man, the lunacy of this book..so messy, so not “well structured” , so fucked up .
And yet , perfectly written, smart, hilarious and still, in his own odd way, accessible.
Initially I gave this book 4/5 - thought the characters could use more "meat"and that the plot felt at times too chaotic.
Fact is, 3 days after and I don’t feel like picking up any other book except another one of this author.
This is not a perfect book but it is one of the most fascinating reads i had in years.
5/5.
March 19, 2020
5+ out of 5.
This book was a fucking delight. It's a big shaggy mess, one that starts out fragmented and gains coherence even as the reliability of what's being shown to us moves in the opposite direction. John Tamberlain, universe's most fearsome food critic, first delivers us a sketch of his life and how he got started -- seen largely through fragments of journals and letters. But there's a lot not shown to us and it's only once he finds a photograph of a possibly mythic hotel/restaurant, the most exclusive restaurant in the universe, that a proper story kicks in. (In a way, it's two books in one.)
And then, well, I don't want to spoil it. Not enough people are going to read this book, which is a fucking shame, but for those who will, I won't give much away. Suffice to say: it was a bit of a horror novel, in the way that GIDEON THE NINTH or ANNIHILATION are horror novels. But it was done by way of a Douglas Adams/Kurt Vonnegut sense of humor and with a beautiful disregard for anything other than this story being told in this way. It's also a magnificent sci-fi novel, one that doesn't really ever talk about travel between planets so much as it talks about moving between countries and alliances. I really liked the way he talked about movement between places as though it could also be between cities or countries on a single terrestrial world -- and that sometimes, those two things were interchangeable.
Also, my god, the Hotel. Brilliant. Terrifying.
I loved this book. Please find and read it so we can talk about it.
This book was a fucking delight. It's a big shaggy mess, one that starts out fragmented and gains coherence even as the reliability of what's being shown to us moves in the opposite direction. John Tamberlain, universe's most fearsome food critic, first delivers us a sketch of his life and how he got started -- seen largely through fragments of journals and letters. But there's a lot not shown to us and it's only once he finds a photograph of a possibly mythic hotel/restaurant, the most exclusive restaurant in the universe, that a proper story kicks in. (In a way, it's two books in one.)
And then, well, I don't want to spoil it. Not enough people are going to read this book, which is a fucking shame, but for those who will, I won't give much away. Suffice to say: it was a bit of a horror novel, in the way that GIDEON THE NINTH or ANNIHILATION are horror novels. But it was done by way of a Douglas Adams/Kurt Vonnegut sense of humor and with a beautiful disregard for anything other than this story being told in this way. It's also a magnificent sci-fi novel, one that doesn't really ever talk about travel between planets so much as it talks about moving between countries and alliances. I really liked the way he talked about movement between places as though it could also be between cities or countries on a single terrestrial world -- and that sometimes, those two things were interchangeable.
Also, my god, the Hotel. Brilliant. Terrifying.
I loved this book. Please find and read it so we can talk about it.
January 23, 2023
the appetizer was delicious; futuristic food-review snark with a witty main character: a delightful sour sauce over flaky pastry layers of promising weirdness.
the first course was delicate, made with confusing ingredients, showing the chef's skill at drawing me in - I was salivating for the entree, wondering what I was eating, loving every ethereal bite.
The entree arrived and at first, it was a gastronomical masterpiece, full of horror, rich and delicious, so many textures to sink your teeth into, alcoholic, mucking up your memory of other dishes, somehow both filling and leaving me ravenous for dessert -
which ended up being a soggy mess, clashing with everything that came before. There were delightful sugary bits that tried to cover up the fallen souffle, and almost did, but the sugar dissolved and left me with a claggy - BRACKISH! - aftertaste.
the first course was delicate, made with confusing ingredients, showing the chef's skill at drawing me in - I was salivating for the entree, wondering what I was eating, loving every ethereal bite.
The entree arrived and at first, it was a gastronomical masterpiece, full of horror, rich and delicious, so many textures to sink your teeth into, alcoholic, mucking up your memory of other dishes, somehow both filling and leaving me ravenous for dessert -
which ended up being a soggy mess, clashing with everything that came before. There were delightful sugary bits that tried to cover up the fallen souffle, and almost did, but the sugar dissolved and left me with a claggy - BRACKISH! - aftertaste.
July 31, 2016
Such a strong start - funny, Douglas Adams-flavoured, Michael Marshall Smith-inspired, with the refreshing quality of SF that seemed to be so unbothered about being SF that you don't find out unambiguously whether ships are the sea kind or the space kind. But then a plotty cloning/AI/mind uploading kicks in and that, coupled with too much dialogue (better in a radio script) and too much gore/fighting (better in a movie) pretty much did for my interest. Lots of great lines, though, worth it for that first third.
January 11, 2024
The back cover blurb on this book compares the Author to "Douglas Adams channeling William Burroughs channeling Ionesco, spiced with the comic brio of Vonnegut." Absolutely true, but they left out Clive Barker and Possibly P.G Wodehouse. Glorious insanity. Cannot wait to see what comes out of this guy's brain next.
July 28, 2016
You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave
I started this book looking for something new and different. Half way through I was ready to give up on it in a mood of exasperation. In the end, and thinking about it afterwards, I came to rather like it. It is a book with some definite problems but it is original, creative, and thought provoking.
It is the story of Jonathan Tamberlain, who drops out of a private education, to travel around the universe as a restaurant critic. The first third or so of the book tells of his ascent to become Tomahawk, the anonymous reviewer, renowned and feared across the galaxy. It is told in almost found footage fashion,through a disconnected series of excerpts from letters and journals. On his travels, Tamberlain learns of the Hotel Grand Skies, fabulously exclusive, and reportedly location of the greatest restaurant in the universe.
The rest of the book,after a brief but significant involvement in galactic politics,is concerned with Tamberlain's stay at the hotel along with agent, the Daniel Woodbine (aka the Beast) and bodyguard Gladys Green.
For me, Hunters and Collectors is three things. Firstly it, like much SF, is actually more about contemporary society than the far future. It is cruel satire from the vary large scale, down to tiny detail. So, we have a galaxy divided into West and East,where the affluent west consumes goods created by child labour in the despotic east. Tamberlain, is part of a celebrity culture for whom a crisis is caused by the "first Galaxy"problem of not being able to obtain the right brand of notebook, a thinly disguised Moleskin.
Secondly it is a spectacularly violent gothic horror/morality tale. In its vision of technological retribution, it shares much with the digital hells of Iain M Banks' Surface Detail.
Thirdly it is a light-devouringly black comedy. I have read reviews which reference the Hitch-hikers Guide to the Galaxy, but that is somewhat misleading. The joyful irreverence of Douglas Adams is entirely absent. If there is a comic comparison, it is with the threatening grotesquery of the League of Gentlemen.
The main problem I had with it was that it verges towards the overlong and self indulgent. The central section of the book doesn't so much twist as feel like walking down a corridor which every so often rotates slightly, giving a subtly altered view of reality. I just felt there were too many such realignments. If you couple that with characters none of whom is particularly sympathetic, you get a long section where people you don't really care about act in inexplicable ways in a constantly changing and confusing environment. This was the source of my exasperation.
The fact that I eventually forgave the author is testament to the skilful way in which he handles the denouement, bringing together the confusing plot strands and providing a credible and coherent explanation for what earlier appeared unfathomable.
So,while I maintain that this could, with better editing, have been a superior work, it has sufficient merit to warrant a positive recommendation.
I started this book looking for something new and different. Half way through I was ready to give up on it in a mood of exasperation. In the end, and thinking about it afterwards, I came to rather like it. It is a book with some definite problems but it is original, creative, and thought provoking.
It is the story of Jonathan Tamberlain, who drops out of a private education, to travel around the universe as a restaurant critic. The first third or so of the book tells of his ascent to become Tomahawk, the anonymous reviewer, renowned and feared across the galaxy. It is told in almost found footage fashion,through a disconnected series of excerpts from letters and journals. On his travels, Tamberlain learns of the Hotel Grand Skies, fabulously exclusive, and reportedly location of the greatest restaurant in the universe.
The rest of the book,after a brief but significant involvement in galactic politics,is concerned with Tamberlain's stay at the hotel along with agent, the Daniel Woodbine (aka the Beast) and bodyguard Gladys Green.
For me, Hunters and Collectors is three things. Firstly it, like much SF, is actually more about contemporary society than the far future. It is cruel satire from the vary large scale, down to tiny detail. So, we have a galaxy divided into West and East,where the affluent west consumes goods created by child labour in the despotic east. Tamberlain, is part of a celebrity culture for whom a crisis is caused by the "first Galaxy"problem of not being able to obtain the right brand of notebook, a thinly disguised Moleskin.
Secondly it is a spectacularly violent gothic horror/morality tale. In its vision of technological retribution, it shares much with the digital hells of Iain M Banks' Surface Detail.
Thirdly it is a light-devouringly black comedy. I have read reviews which reference the Hitch-hikers Guide to the Galaxy, but that is somewhat misleading. The joyful irreverence of Douglas Adams is entirely absent. If there is a comic comparison, it is with the threatening grotesquery of the League of Gentlemen.
The main problem I had with it was that it verges towards the overlong and self indulgent. The central section of the book doesn't so much twist as feel like walking down a corridor which every so often rotates slightly, giving a subtly altered view of reality. I just felt there were too many such realignments. If you couple that with characters none of whom is particularly sympathetic, you get a long section where people you don't really care about act in inexplicable ways in a constantly changing and confusing environment. This was the source of my exasperation.
The fact that I eventually forgave the author is testament to the skilful way in which he handles the denouement, bringing together the confusing plot strands and providing a credible and coherent explanation for what earlier appeared unfathomable.
So,while I maintain that this could, with better editing, have been a superior work, it has sufficient merit to warrant a positive recommendation.
November 21, 2017
“To me, the greatest possible horror is not that humanity might end, but that our Empire of Stupidity might last forever,” our stupidly brilliant food-critic narrator waxes between ambling descriptions of past delicacies. “Wild songbird blinded, then drowned in strong port, eaten whole; dormice raised in ceramic jars and force-fed until they’re balls of butter, killed without ever seeing daylight, dipped in poppy seeds, server on feathers. Coffee. This is how the dead eat when they tire of life.” Dry wit and poignant insights are gifts littered throughout M. Suddain’s brilliant, horrific, and utterly hilarious “Hunters & Collectors,” an inventive and likely unforgettable novel that has earned its way in the upper echelon of recent favorite novels.
After finishing this book, I checked how many passages I happened to highlight. Normally I highlight a passage or two that I’d like to revisit later in case I think it foreshadows, or if it is especially humorous, or poignant. I found twenty-seven beautiful, powerful, and often-hilarious witticisms staring me in the face.
Our narrator Jonathan is incredibly brave but does incredibly stupid things. But perhaps doing these stupid things is what makes him so brave. He is not a man I would want to spend time with - he is completely self-serving, infuriating, misleading, and seemingly uncaring about anything outside of his goals and fame. But since the story is written from Jonathan's perspective, his sharp wit, uncommon motivations, and irregular behavior becomes increasingly fascinating as his quest for the perfect meal unravels a deeper and darker mystery.
I'm restraining myself from delving any further into the plot; much like a tasting menu, it's best to experience each portion with little predilection or knowledge of what's to come. I will say that the supporting cast are extraordinary characters with enough depth and mystery to still feel real even months after finishing this novel. They add a combination of sharp dialogue, hilarious wit, and thoughtful insights throughout each unpredictable horror or hijinks awaiting around the next bend.
Fans of Douglas Adams' "Hitchhicker's Guide" series and John Kennedy Toole's "A Confederacy of Dunces" will find lots to like here. This is a broad & exciting novel that swings for the fences and knocks it into orbit.
After finishing this book, I checked how many passages I happened to highlight. Normally I highlight a passage or two that I’d like to revisit later in case I think it foreshadows, or if it is especially humorous, or poignant. I found twenty-seven beautiful, powerful, and often-hilarious witticisms staring me in the face.
Our narrator Jonathan is incredibly brave but does incredibly stupid things. But perhaps doing these stupid things is what makes him so brave. He is not a man I would want to spend time with - he is completely self-serving, infuriating, misleading, and seemingly uncaring about anything outside of his goals and fame. But since the story is written from Jonathan's perspective, his sharp wit, uncommon motivations, and irregular behavior becomes increasingly fascinating as his quest for the perfect meal unravels a deeper and darker mystery.
I'm restraining myself from delving any further into the plot; much like a tasting menu, it's best to experience each portion with little predilection or knowledge of what's to come. I will say that the supporting cast are extraordinary characters with enough depth and mystery to still feel real even months after finishing this novel. They add a combination of sharp dialogue, hilarious wit, and thoughtful insights throughout each unpredictable horror or hijinks awaiting around the next bend.
Fans of Douglas Adams' "Hitchhicker's Guide" series and John Kennedy Toole's "A Confederacy of Dunces" will find lots to like here. This is a broad & exciting novel that swings for the fences and knocks it into orbit.
September 14, 2016
This is the kind of strange, one-of-a-kind novel that people fall over themselves trying to describe, so, ahem, here’s my shot- Hitchhiker’s Guide to The Galaxy takes a trip with William Burroughs to a malfunctioning Overlook Hotel. But no amount of adjective-and-comparison-laden pithy summary can really do justice to this unique blend of a novel.
John Tamberlaine aka The Tomahwak, a food critic (or ‘forensic gastromominer’), finds fame and then becomes obsessed with a hotel that is so exclusive that every guest must sign a non-disclosure agreement, no pictures are allowed to be taken in it, not one word is allowed to be written about it, and certainly no critic is to ever review its fabled restaurant. With his agent, The Beast, and modified-human bodyguard, Gladys, in tow, Tamberlaine's trip to the famous hotel is set to be the trip of lifetime.
Hunters & Collectors has a plot that takes some baffling left turns throughout, but much to its credit- it encompasses sci-fi, fictional travelogue, horror, detective story, and a very funny comedy. Tamberlaine is a great unreliable-narrator/protagonist, and his relationships with his agent and body guard add a lot of weight to the story. Not to everyone’s taste, I’m sure some won’t take to the plot switching gears after a galaxy-hopping first third when, location-wise, it settles in for some length. The humour of the book is good enough to merit a read by itself, but with everything else on top it turns it into a swirling surreal trip that should justifiable become a cult classic.
John Tamberlaine aka The Tomahwak, a food critic (or ‘forensic gastromominer’), finds fame and then becomes obsessed with a hotel that is so exclusive that every guest must sign a non-disclosure agreement, no pictures are allowed to be taken in it, not one word is allowed to be written about it, and certainly no critic is to ever review its fabled restaurant. With his agent, The Beast, and modified-human bodyguard, Gladys, in tow, Tamberlaine's trip to the famous hotel is set to be the trip of lifetime.
Hunters & Collectors has a plot that takes some baffling left turns throughout, but much to its credit- it encompasses sci-fi, fictional travelogue, horror, detective story, and a very funny comedy. Tamberlaine is a great unreliable-narrator/protagonist, and his relationships with his agent and body guard add a lot of weight to the story. Not to everyone’s taste, I’m sure some won’t take to the plot switching gears after a galaxy-hopping first third when, location-wise, it settles in for some length. The humour of the book is good enough to merit a read by itself, but with everything else on top it turns it into a swirling surreal trip that should justifiable become a cult classic.
August 8, 2016
At one point in this novel it is stated:
“Perfection is easy, to disappoint someone well is a challenge.”
Which I think will reflect the feelings different people will have about Hunters & Collectors. For some it will be a wealth of pleasures they will consume greedily, for me it could have been something I thoroughly enjoyed but kept coming up short. There are many people that will likely find this wonderfully subversive, whether coming from the high literary bent who read Burroughs and Vonnegut or that chuckle over Family Guy and Archer. But humour and style is so subjective, I could see where I was supposed to be enjoying myself but my own experiences came up short.
Hunters & Collectors is a book that is at times fascinating and funny but at others frustrating and unsettling. This may well appeal to fans of more transgressive humour like Vonnegut but unfortunately this is an establishment I don’t intend to frequent again.
Full Review Here: http://geekplanetonline.com/reviews/b...
“Perfection is easy, to disappoint someone well is a challenge.”
Which I think will reflect the feelings different people will have about Hunters & Collectors. For some it will be a wealth of pleasures they will consume greedily, for me it could have been something I thoroughly enjoyed but kept coming up short. There are many people that will likely find this wonderfully subversive, whether coming from the high literary bent who read Burroughs and Vonnegut or that chuckle over Family Guy and Archer. But humour and style is so subjective, I could see where I was supposed to be enjoying myself but my own experiences came up short.
Hunters & Collectors is a book that is at times fascinating and funny but at others frustrating and unsettling. This may well appeal to fans of more transgressive humour like Vonnegut but unfortunately this is an establishment I don’t intend to frequent again.
Full Review Here: http://geekplanetonline.com/reviews/b...
May 14, 2017
What a journey. It starts with a contemptible restaurant critic and follows a logical path that leads to increasingly extreme situations. It remains funny throughout and does get a bit blood-bathy, then cleans up all the blood with a lovely 'big idea' that took me by complete surprise. Six months after reading this, I still smile at the bigger ideas, the character Gladys, and the arc that leaves the pompous 'hero' as a footnote to events bigger than he'll ever be.
May 13, 2017
Fell in love with this, hard. <3
August 13, 2018
Difficult to put into words how much I liked this book and appreciated its author’s genius. With that said, this book is not for everyone but those that read it will understand how I feel about it.
November 11, 2024
It feels wrong to rate a book this crazily original three stars outta five but part of its paradox is that it’s a very conventional novel despite its tardigrade-human hybrids, its meat-mangling cloned hotel maids, its subaqueous megastructures. Suddain’s hyperactive puppyish prose is so exuberant it’s hard to keep track of, and liable to bite your ankles, and though his plot is mercifully more or less linear it takes a fair bit of unkinking. It’s like Douglas Adams and Vonnegut on uppers making cutups out of old detective novels and Michelin guides and P.K. Dick manuscripts. The sanguinary set pieces are surpassingly well orchestrated — the revival of the broom-impaled cleaning boy will live with me eternally. Fuck it, four stars — we need more of this kind of madness in the world.
August 11, 2025
I absolutely love this author - I hope they keep writing :) I don’t know where to even start in describing this book or what genre it is. But it’s delightful and off the wall and fast paced and smart and everything I love in speculative fiction.
April 7, 2019
Didn't make it very far.
Good reminder of why I stick to non-fiction and not arty modern fiction.
Good reminder of why I stick to non-fiction and not arty modern fiction.
May 8, 2021
3.5
@oscarwalsh decline in quality, by the second half it was quite different from my initial descriptions.
@oscarwalsh decline in quality, by the second half it was quite different from my initial descriptions.
March 14, 2017
This chunky novel is a busy fever dream of black comedy and violent, clever sci-fi that balances its batshit crazy moments with a surprisingly tender, human heart. There is so much going on here; the world Suddain creates feels well established and worn-in, crafted as much from what he does say, as what he doesn't. He has a way of disguising exposition with clever scenes and devices, and in fact his skills at narrative subterfuge overall are a big part of what makes Hunters and Collectors one of the most intelligent and enormously fun books I've read in years.
July 21, 2017
I always write about the books I read, but I struggle to write a good review that other people can see. I've recently been trying to pinpoint what exactly it is that I look for in a book. Because it's not usually genre, or necessarily author, and I used to make a point of never reading a books blurb. What I do, usually, is I read the first line and then a random page (probably 97, depending on the length of the book) as a way of assessing the books readability.
The reason why I don't read the blurb, I think, is because I'm not necessarily interested in what the book in question is about. I'm more concerned with how it's put across; what the writer is really communicating to you about the world (what it means to be human, and what do we do about the big questions?), and that is often something that you will not really find in a blurb, being as they are, a means of selling a product.
However; occasionally a writer comes along like Suddain. I was attracted immediately to his first title: Theatre of the Gods (who wouldn't be?), and I couldn't resist the blurb. I grew up on a diet of sci-fi, but I tend to avoid most books that hint of the genre purely because they are usually so terribly written. Anyway, I could see straight away that Suddain's book was just the right kind of weird for me. I also have come to realise that a book with an unusual premise; that will consequently have a narrower window for general approval (than for instance a book such as Goodnight Mister Tom, with a subject material that is appealing to a wide range of people), will tend to be either really badly written (and probably become a cult classic), or will carry it's unusual premise on the supreme strength of the author's ability to write. As I suspected, Theatre of the Gods was in the latter camp.
So, anyway, I've worked out that what attracts me to a book is not just content (a book that to me is all content: maybe I just wasn't patient enough, but I didn't get on with Sophie's Choice, it was just so packed with information. Reading the blurb it seemed that this book was just rich in meaning. But on reading it, I felt nothing. I couldn't connect with the character, if anything I did feel something, and that was cold.).
In lieu of a more accurate description, I've decided to term the other thing 'context'. This is about how the author says what he says, and what he really means. Because, for readers like me, I don't want to read about somebody who lives in Russia during the Cold War, who falls in love but it turns out to be a long lost brother who then gets tortured...etc, but I will want to read a book that communicates what it really means to be a thinking, feeling, person in this situation.
Another way to illustrate this point may be this: I am a writer myself, and I often feel that what I write doesn't always come from 'me' (sometimes I think of it as coming from the Arcadia - the garden of the poets, that I think all artists walk in), sometimes it feels like I am listening to something that I am then processing into a written form that can be communicated with the world at large (this is also why I believe that all art forms are fundamentally the same). I think, as readers, and in particular those who are also writers themselves (there are a few of us), can recognise whether an author has been inspired in this way, or whether they just decided they liked a particular idea, used a lot of imagination and cleverness, and produced a book rich in content, but consequently poor in context (i.e. the point where you think 'yes, I get that it's about the second world war, and what a horrific event that was, but what is this book really saying? If anything at all?).
OK, so at this point, I'm aware that this review has barely mentioned the book in question. But my point is basically this: Suddain is the real deal. He is a writer. His words mean something, and they are dressed up in the most awesome stories. I'm not saying that he's another Jostein Gaarder, so don't expect to have all the answers to the universe's question served up to you on a plate (if in a cryptic package). But that's not the point, the point is that it means something.
So, having read and loved Theatre of the Gods, I immediately wanted to read Suddain's next book Hunters & Collectors, even without reading the blurb. After reading the blurb, I wanted to read it that very second. In very simple terms, Suddain is a great writer, who writes great books. I would advise anyone to read anything he publishes, whatever the subject matter. I happen to like his subject matter, because I like weird and interesting, and most importantly, different (or original, if you prefer the, ironically, more cliched term).
It is a book that you will just want to read and read, and of course you want desperately to know how it all ends, but you just don't want it to end. Can you really achieve higher praise as a writer? It's topical issues, for me at least, include: What does it mean to be human? When does a machine stop being a machine, and thus gain its right to humane treatment?
And. His crowning glory for a (I'm referring to myself here) nearly 30-year old spinster (and proud): how Jon describes his feelings at the end of the book (spoiler alert), as something 'better than love': 'to know someone, and to want to know them'. I've often wondered why my feelings towards men I've never slept with (or maybe just once or twice), but have had the pleasure of having incredible conversations with, often meant much more to me than other people, who I'd even had long term relationships, and been 'in-love' with. Thanks, Suddain, I finally understand! (I think the Bible, also, unexpectedly, hints at this when the early characters are described as 'knowing' each other (i.e. 'Adam knew Eve') to talk about sex and copulation. Maybe it's a hint that we should (perhaps) only actually sleep with (or more importantly create children with) the people that we can really say we 'knew' in the sense that Jonathon uses at the end of this book. just a thought.)
In conclusion: It's awesome, if you haven't read it yet, then bl**dy well read it.
And if you've read all this, you have much more patience than me, congratulations and thank you.
P.S. I should probably mention:
The central theme/premise of the book is 'finding the perfect meal'. Which, in my opinion, is pure artistic gold. Suddain raises the eating of food (something that is often seen as wholly survival-instinct, with no, or at least not much, higher-level brain activity) into an art form. And, of course, he's right. All artists see their art as their bread and butter. Not in the money-making sense, but in the sense that they actually need art in order to survive, it is as vital to their health as spinach, or an apple. Not only this, but as readers, what do we do? We go through life searching and willing and hoping against hope, that one day we will find the perfect book (some of us also hope, rather unrealistically, that we will be the creator of such a book). The book of books, the book to end all books, etc...
And what can really be more of an art form than the world that we take our sustenance from? In how we create and enjoy that sustenance in all its possible (and perhaps impossible) forms.
P.P.S.
Yes, if you're wondering, I am overweight (but that's not really the point I'm making here).
P.P.P.S
Perhaps the distinction is actually more simple than content/context. Perhaps it is merely intelligence and ability vs.sensibility, where you're hoping for a draw.
The reason why I don't read the blurb, I think, is because I'm not necessarily interested in what the book in question is about. I'm more concerned with how it's put across; what the writer is really communicating to you about the world (what it means to be human, and what do we do about the big questions?), and that is often something that you will not really find in a blurb, being as they are, a means of selling a product.
However; occasionally a writer comes along like Suddain. I was attracted immediately to his first title: Theatre of the Gods (who wouldn't be?), and I couldn't resist the blurb. I grew up on a diet of sci-fi, but I tend to avoid most books that hint of the genre purely because they are usually so terribly written. Anyway, I could see straight away that Suddain's book was just the right kind of weird for me. I also have come to realise that a book with an unusual premise; that will consequently have a narrower window for general approval (than for instance a book such as Goodnight Mister Tom, with a subject material that is appealing to a wide range of people), will tend to be either really badly written (and probably become a cult classic), or will carry it's unusual premise on the supreme strength of the author's ability to write. As I suspected, Theatre of the Gods was in the latter camp.
So, anyway, I've worked out that what attracts me to a book is not just content (a book that to me is all content: maybe I just wasn't patient enough, but I didn't get on with Sophie's Choice, it was just so packed with information. Reading the blurb it seemed that this book was just rich in meaning. But on reading it, I felt nothing. I couldn't connect with the character, if anything I did feel something, and that was cold.).
In lieu of a more accurate description, I've decided to term the other thing 'context'. This is about how the author says what he says, and what he really means. Because, for readers like me, I don't want to read about somebody who lives in Russia during the Cold War, who falls in love but it turns out to be a long lost brother who then gets tortured...etc, but I will want to read a book that communicates what it really means to be a thinking, feeling, person in this situation.
Another way to illustrate this point may be this: I am a writer myself, and I often feel that what I write doesn't always come from 'me' (sometimes I think of it as coming from the Arcadia - the garden of the poets, that I think all artists walk in), sometimes it feels like I am listening to something that I am then processing into a written form that can be communicated with the world at large (this is also why I believe that all art forms are fundamentally the same). I think, as readers, and in particular those who are also writers themselves (there are a few of us), can recognise whether an author has been inspired in this way, or whether they just decided they liked a particular idea, used a lot of imagination and cleverness, and produced a book rich in content, but consequently poor in context (i.e. the point where you think 'yes, I get that it's about the second world war, and what a horrific event that was, but what is this book really saying? If anything at all?).
OK, so at this point, I'm aware that this review has barely mentioned the book in question. But my point is basically this: Suddain is the real deal. He is a writer. His words mean something, and they are dressed up in the most awesome stories. I'm not saying that he's another Jostein Gaarder, so don't expect to have all the answers to the universe's question served up to you on a plate (if in a cryptic package). But that's not the point, the point is that it means something.
So, having read and loved Theatre of the Gods, I immediately wanted to read Suddain's next book Hunters & Collectors, even without reading the blurb. After reading the blurb, I wanted to read it that very second. In very simple terms, Suddain is a great writer, who writes great books. I would advise anyone to read anything he publishes, whatever the subject matter. I happen to like his subject matter, because I like weird and interesting, and most importantly, different (or original, if you prefer the, ironically, more cliched term).
It is a book that you will just want to read and read, and of course you want desperately to know how it all ends, but you just don't want it to end. Can you really achieve higher praise as a writer? It's topical issues, for me at least, include: What does it mean to be human? When does a machine stop being a machine, and thus gain its right to humane treatment?
And. His crowning glory for a (I'm referring to myself here) nearly 30-year old spinster (and proud): how Jon describes his feelings at the end of the book (spoiler alert), as something 'better than love': 'to know someone, and to want to know them'. I've often wondered why my feelings towards men I've never slept with (or maybe just once or twice), but have had the pleasure of having incredible conversations with, often meant much more to me than other people, who I'd even had long term relationships, and been 'in-love' with. Thanks, Suddain, I finally understand! (I think the Bible, also, unexpectedly, hints at this when the early characters are described as 'knowing' each other (i.e. 'Adam knew Eve') to talk about sex and copulation. Maybe it's a hint that we should (perhaps) only actually sleep with (or more importantly create children with) the people that we can really say we 'knew' in the sense that Jonathon uses at the end of this book. just a thought.)
In conclusion: It's awesome, if you haven't read it yet, then bl**dy well read it.
And if you've read all this, you have much more patience than me, congratulations and thank you.
P.S. I should probably mention:
The central theme/premise of the book is 'finding the perfect meal'. Which, in my opinion, is pure artistic gold. Suddain raises the eating of food (something that is often seen as wholly survival-instinct, with no, or at least not much, higher-level brain activity) into an art form. And, of course, he's right. All artists see their art as their bread and butter. Not in the money-making sense, but in the sense that they actually need art in order to survive, it is as vital to their health as spinach, or an apple. Not only this, but as readers, what do we do? We go through life searching and willing and hoping against hope, that one day we will find the perfect book (some of us also hope, rather unrealistically, that we will be the creator of such a book). The book of books, the book to end all books, etc...
And what can really be more of an art form than the world that we take our sustenance from? In how we create and enjoy that sustenance in all its possible (and perhaps impossible) forms.
P.P.S.
Yes, if you're wondering, I am overweight (but that's not really the point I'm making here).
P.P.P.S
Perhaps the distinction is actually more simple than content/context. Perhaps it is merely intelligence and ability vs.sensibility, where you're hoping for a draw.
August 29, 2019
This book started out great and would have been a 5-star book for me if the focus had remained on the main character being a restaurant reviewer in space/the future. It had some truly great bits, filled with cynicism, weirdness and humour. The author is clearly a talented and imaginative writer.
However, the rest of the book became something completely different (after the boat incident). It becomes something more action oriented and full of tropes. I believe this part does go on for too long and wasn't as funny or enjoyable as the first bit, but it was still well written.
There are a few questionable rants about a man who wears dresses and the character seems not to know or care that being transgender is not the same thing as doing drag. And I still do not understand why the character makes such a big deal about man in drag in the far future where multiple universes/galaxies have been discovered...and why this is present in the book at all.
In any case, there are some excellent parts but it is ultimately weighed down by the latter half. If this was a restaurant review I would give the starter a 10 out of 10. It was truly utterly delicious, but it all goes downhill from there and I really did not enjoy the soggy, bland dessert.
However, the rest of the book became something completely different (after the boat incident). It becomes something more action oriented and full of tropes. I believe this part does go on for too long and wasn't as funny or enjoyable as the first bit, but it was still well written.
There are a few questionable rants about a man who wears dresses and the character seems not to know or care that being transgender is not the same thing as doing drag. And I still do not understand why the character makes such a big deal about man in drag in the far future where multiple universes/galaxies have been discovered...and why this is present in the book at all.
In any case, there are some excellent parts but it is ultimately weighed down by the latter half. If this was a restaurant review I would give the starter a 10 out of 10. It was truly utterly delicious, but it all goes downhill from there and I really did not enjoy the soggy, bland dessert.
December 22, 2025
The way that John Tamberlain has been searching for the perfect meal, I have been searching for the perfect book. And I finally found it. It was far from what I expected but it was all the more engrossing all the same. I love art that makes me think, “I didn’t know writing could be this way.” I’m stunned. Throughout reading the book, I kept telling my husband about how enthralled I was, but then I stopped altogether trying to explain what was happening because nothing I could say would do it justice. Near perfect and indescribable. After years of pickiness with starting a novel and feeling that tinge of disappointment, of, “This is fine, I guess,” I’m beyond ecstatic to have read something that I can finally say, “Yes, this is what I’ve been looking for.” I’m beside myself with how much I loved this story. I’m truly in awe in a work of art that only could’ve been written by this writer. A purely unique creation. I can’t wait to read it again.
October 22, 2016
Dazzling!
This book is quite unlike anything I have read before. Like others, I got to a point in the book where I nearly gave up - the 'note' form style of the book takes a lot of getting used to...but is it all truly worth it, I promise!
Sci-fi (a little bit, but a vehicle only, really), fable, artificial intellingence, holography, gastronomy, dark humour, bloodshed and so much more.
It's simply a great piece of fiction. I'm still trying to work out quite why, but I know I've read something good when I'm left with a lingering sense of despondency when it's finished and I try to focus on what to read next. What can match that...?
If you like this...try The Cook by Harry Kressing (this is quite rare).
This book is quite unlike anything I have read before. Like others, I got to a point in the book where I nearly gave up - the 'note' form style of the book takes a lot of getting used to...but is it all truly worth it, I promise!
Sci-fi (a little bit, but a vehicle only, really), fable, artificial intellingence, holography, gastronomy, dark humour, bloodshed and so much more.
It's simply a great piece of fiction. I'm still trying to work out quite why, but I know I've read something good when I'm left with a lingering sense of despondency when it's finished and I try to focus on what to read next. What can match that...?
If you like this...try The Cook by Harry Kressing (this is quite rare).
January 3, 2017
Didn't fully know what to think going into this read, having avoided all spoilers and reviews of the book first. However, it was a winner for me from the start when I found myself highlighting something on every page.
Beautifully written and a captivating story, Matt Suddain truly has a way with words. There is nothing I can even compare this book to.
I have a feeling that this will be a marmite/vegemite of books though. Either the reader will love it profusely or will hate it.
Personally I loved it. Apologies for the sappy review. I haven't liked a book this much in ages.
Beautifully written and a captivating story, Matt Suddain truly has a way with words. There is nothing I can even compare this book to.
I have a feeling that this will be a marmite/vegemite of books though. Either the reader will love it profusely or will hate it.
Personally I loved it. Apologies for the sappy review. I haven't liked a book this much in ages.
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