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A review by beardybot
Fairyland by Paul J. McAuley
2.0
On an elemental level this is hard science fiction, as billed, replete with detailed explanations of atomic biology that seem to do more for the author than the book he writes. Reading it, though, it feels a lot more in the vein of Thomas Harris and his Red Dragon than anything in my admittedly limited collection of sci-fi. A wholly imperfect man (okay, Paul, you don't need to mention his weight every time he meets a new character) who is both out of his depth and in possession of an incredibly rare and useful skill set, chases his elusive red dragon with the aid and hamperings of the morally corrupt.
It is both intensely compelling and chaotically jarring. Gunfights the other side of town play out immediately after long discussions on posthuman nature, with barely a line-break between them. Scenes and times change drastically and eratically, and explicit constants ("it's monsoon season," he says... the rain is never so much as hinted at again) are subverted where things that are inherently changing don't seem to make any progress at all.
Critics seem to agree this is a masterful use of language that serves to impress upon the reader how confusing and unreliable this dystopic world is, and I could agree if in places it didn't feel like blatant laziness. The lack of many transitions feel very much like an admittance the writer doesn't know how to handle them than the clever manipulation of a master craftsman.
He paints a world of people and not places--I can hardly tell the difference between America, Albania, London and the Eastern Bloc--and while this is surely a conscious reflection of a hyperconnected planet without real borders, none of the characters are compelling enough on their own, nor do they possess enough chemistry when together, for McAuley to really pull it off.
Don't expect "archetypes of fantasy" (the blurb), don't expect "hipness" (Mail on Sunday), nor "characters needy and vivid" (The Washington Post), and don't expect "a rich sense of place" (The Times). I don't feel these quotes are in any way accurate. If anything, they diminish a good read and draw attention away from the expert blend of thriller, sci-fi and adventure that will linger in the memory long after places and characters.
It is both intensely compelling and chaotically jarring. Gunfights the other side of town play out immediately after long discussions on posthuman nature, with barely a line-break between them. Scenes and times change drastically and eratically, and explicit constants ("it's monsoon season," he says... the rain is never so much as hinted at again) are subverted where things that are inherently changing don't seem to make any progress at all.
Critics seem to agree this is a masterful use of language that serves to impress upon the reader how confusing and unreliable this dystopic world is, and I could agree if in places it didn't feel like blatant laziness. The lack of many transitions feel very much like an admittance the writer doesn't know how to handle them than the clever manipulation of a master craftsman.
He paints a world of people and not places--I can hardly tell the difference between America, Albania, London and the Eastern Bloc--and while this is surely a conscious reflection of a hyperconnected planet without real borders, none of the characters are compelling enough on their own, nor do they possess enough chemistry when together, for McAuley to really pull it off.
Don't expect "archetypes of fantasy" (the blurb), don't expect "hipness" (Mail on Sunday), nor "characters needy and vivid" (The Washington Post), and don't expect "a rich sense of place" (The Times). I don't feel these quotes are in any way accurate. If anything, they diminish a good read and draw attention away from the expert blend of thriller, sci-fi and adventure that will linger in the memory long after places and characters.