Once in a while, I get an itch for a big, fat, sci-fi novel. And while this one isn't fat (411 pages), it is big—especially in the central question that it poses:
Is time constant or is it malleable? Does time only move forward, in one direction? Or can we slip through time? If so, what would happen?
Well, In Lindemoen's very capable hands, a LOT of stuff happens, and most of it is nasty, horrific, incomprehensible, and oh.so.freakishly.violent. Two thumbs up!
So ah yup, I liked this book. The mind-fuckery of the time question was handled uniquely and quite beautifully toward the end. The descriptions of Saturn were gorgeous. Sometimes, though, I felt assaulted with similes—especially during the many attack sequences that were gloriously gross but sometimes too long and felt too similar.
Still, I'll probably read his first book sooner than later.