Vurt by Jeff Noon

[outsdr]

I checked this book out of the library to read after kateorman posted an obscure quote from the book in a remark about Torchwood, and I googled the quote to find out what novel it was from so I could quote something back and sound more intelligent than I really am and then I ended up feeling guilty because I was quoting something I had never read so I got the book and read it over the course of two months...

Ugh. Imagine trying to make sense of a Jackson Pollock painting from underneath the canvas while two different Gorrillaz tracks are playing in each of your ears and Timothy Leary is peeing on you. Eventually, you just want to give up and crawl away somewhere to shower. And maybe cry a little.

The novel seemed to want to be cyberpunk with a possible drug twist to it, or maybe it's all just magic; the clarification is never made and there aren't enough clues given to the reader to figure it out.  The book lacks the futuristic style & details of Neil Stephenson, and the leaps of breathless imagination of William Gibson, although to be fair it does avoid many of the cyberpunk and sci-fi cliches that so often dominate the genre. But the cleverest of ideas are never given any depth... why the feathers as a means of drug delivery, for instance? The characters are never given a chance to develop and grow, either. The shocking incestuous relationship between the main protagonist and his sister is more than hinted at, but never explored or given reason for being, just displayed for "grim and gritty" envelope pushing sake, it seems. A glimpse of possibility shines for this world, but there's never enough given to justify exploration. I found myself caught between the dread of reading further, and the excitement that comes from turning the next page, just because it's one more step closer to the end of the book.

I don't think I'll be reading any more from this author, unless my flippant use of a needless quote shames me into it once again.

(To further my boogled shame, I never did figure out why Kate choose that quote to describe the Torchwood episode Adam, I think it was)

Comments

*still giggling*

[asia-sky.livejournal.com]

Ugh. Imagine trying to make sense of a Jackson Pollock painting from underneath the canvas while two different Gorrillaz tracks are playing in each of your ears and Timothy Leary is peeing on you. Eventually, you just want to give up and crawl away somewhere to shower. And maybe cry a little.

how the hell did I ever miss this entry.
Not that I had ever heard of this book or author,
but dang I can't recall when I last read a review quite like that.