I review this novel, over on arcfinity. Go have a read. No, really. I insist.
Different writers work their craft differently. Some approach the novel as a little bit (two inches wide) of ivory on which they work with so fine a brush as to achieve exquisite effects. Others pull down the big lever on their Composition Machine and extrude novels by the yard. And others still - M. Suddain is one of this last kind - hook a fire-hose to the pressurised tank of Storyfoam and spray it wildly about. “Sweet mercies!” the narrator of Theatre of the Gods cries, as the end approaches; “I can hardly hold this story together!”
Indeed.
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