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5wamp_creature's review
3.0
I can't read avant-garde fiction quickly. But, Atom is pretty fun. I am reminded of Dick Tracy, the Movie, if made by David Lynch. There is definite and clearly plotted story here, unlike what I found in Mark Leyner's "My Cousin, My Gastroenterologist" (although Leyner made me laugh until I had to put the book down.)
Atom is an acid trip detective story. At times I felt the avant-garde-ness was getting in the way. I'll probably reread this and find one more by Aylett.
Recommended, very short to try.
Atom is an acid trip detective story. At times I felt the avant-garde-ness was getting in the way. I'll probably reread this and find one more by Aylett.
Recommended, very short to try.
edmittance's review
3.0
Loved the writing; a million one liners. Couldn't work out wtf was going on though; maybe this is my exhaustion, maybe it's bonkers; dunno.
rickklaw's review
5.0
Describing Steve Aylett’s wild ride Atom is a lot like holding water in your hands. The thought stays with you for a mere moment until it just runs through your fingers. You remember the experience vividly, but are unable to accurately explain the sensation.
Three figures emerged from Atom’s brownstone. A cloaked cadaver cradling its gored face, followed by a naked Atom and the fat gent carrying a fishtank between them. In the tank’s gloom rocked a giant mouth with a tail.
Atom is Taffy Atom, private detective (or private defective as he is referred to early on). His partner is Madison “Maddy” Drowner, weapons designer (Creator of such unique weapons as the Syndication bomb, which strips the pretext out of everything.) and best friend Jed Helms, an intelligent piranha. With even stranger villains, Aylett’s world is Dick Tracy on acid. Like a runaway Maltese Falcon, the plot defies description. With only glimpses and moments of what we know and how it should be, it all somehow makes sense.
It is a testament to Aylett’s skill that he keeps the reader’s rapt attention throughout. His sense of humor is dead on, with several passages demanding to be read aloud. His timing is exemplary, and Aylett knows when to give the reader a breather. With all the excitement and laughter, I loathed for the adventure to end. Luckily for me (and other readers), the climax is oddly satisfying.
"Ladies and gentleman," said Atom, "if you'll indulge me. I have assigned a musical note to every grade of human lie. Here's my rendition of the President's inaugural address." And he took out a clarinet.
Aylett maintains the insanity right up until the last page playing a game of psychic chicken and refusing to swerve. Atom takes you on a wild ride far afield of ordinary fiction (SF or not), and it’s a ride not soon forgotten.
Three figures emerged from Atom’s brownstone. A cloaked cadaver cradling its gored face, followed by a naked Atom and the fat gent carrying a fishtank between them. In the tank’s gloom rocked a giant mouth with a tail.
Atom is Taffy Atom, private detective (or private defective as he is referred to early on). His partner is Madison “Maddy” Drowner, weapons designer (Creator of such unique weapons as the Syndication bomb, which strips the pretext out of everything.) and best friend Jed Helms, an intelligent piranha. With even stranger villains, Aylett’s world is Dick Tracy on acid. Like a runaway Maltese Falcon, the plot defies description. With only glimpses and moments of what we know and how it should be, it all somehow makes sense.
It is a testament to Aylett’s skill that he keeps the reader’s rapt attention throughout. His sense of humor is dead on, with several passages demanding to be read aloud. His timing is exemplary, and Aylett knows when to give the reader a breather. With all the excitement and laughter, I loathed for the adventure to end. Luckily for me (and other readers), the climax is oddly satisfying.
"Ladies and gentleman," said Atom, "if you'll indulge me. I have assigned a musical note to every grade of human lie. Here's my rendition of the President's inaugural address." And he took out a clarinet.
Aylett maintains the insanity right up until the last page playing a game of psychic chicken and refusing to swerve. Atom takes you on a wild ride far afield of ordinary fiction (SF or not), and it’s a ride not soon forgotten.
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