‘Dark Matter’ Is A Jet-Propelled Science Thriller
by Blake Crouch
Hardcover, 336 pages | purchase
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Your prison term is valuable. I know that. There are roughly a billion books published every class and you ‘ve lone got time to read a few of them. There are significant books and acclaimed books and books you can put down like trash food — like sitting on the frame in your underwear and eating that wholly udder of barbeque potato chips because there ‘s no one there to tell you not to. You have to make some choices. sol with that in take care, and before we decide ( together, just you and me ) whether or not Blake Crouch ‘s new bible Dark Matter is worth adding to your list, we have to clear a few things up. How authoritative is coherence to you ? Is it vitally crucial that every little stitch of a narrative holds tight, or can you handle a little careen in your plots ? How angry do you get at fabricated characters made of ink on composition when they do absurd things that no normal human would do ? Are you the kind of person who has been known to throw books across rooms, occasionally damaging framed photograph or houseplants ? Because I ‘m a book-thrower, and if you are, besides, that ‘s going to be a business here .
How essential is art to you ? A elegant and dulcet command of the language ? Do spongy physics in your sci-fi drive you batty, or are you cool with total darkness boxes full moon of SCIENCE being carried around by characters and used to spackle over shaky parts of the narrative ? here ‘s the big one : Do you think you can you swallow all of the above — forgive all the respective failings of a script which is sometimes maddening in its refusal to be deoxyadenosine monophosphate good as you want it to be — if the wages is worth it ? Can you do it if I told you that crouch sticks the down in such a room that I rode an elevator up and down for 20 minutes one afternoon barely so I could get to the end of one of his concluding chapters ? You should say yes. You truly should. Because Dark Matter ? It ‘s a solid bag of barbecue chips, man. And it ‘s merely sitting there waiting for you to devour in one long rush. here are the basics : Dark Matter is the floor of Jason Dessen, a mild-mannered college physics professor who gets abducted one night by a mask man, conked over the head, injected with some SCIENCE and wakes up in a world that is not his own. It ‘s one of those stories — the classic “ what if I made different choices when I was a younger serviceman ” fib, grafted onto a jet-propelled thriller plot made forcibly breathless by Crouch ‘s maddening addiction to prison term fragments and individual note paragraph which make a chase setting read like this :
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Amanda begins to walk. Faster and faster. Until she ‘s trot. then running. Into a iniquity that never changes. never ends. The backstage of the multiverse.
now granted, “ The wing of the multiverse ” is a nice production line, but Crouch ‘s affection for poetic ( very, haiku-ical ) structure within a shape of prose is annoying at foremost, then infuriating, then plainly numbing. And very, it ‘s unnecessary — because about the entire book is one big chase view anyhow. The dogs are always snapping at Jason Dessen ‘s heels. Every close door is just waiting to be kicked in. No one has prison term to breathe, to think, to acclimate to one alternate population before they ‘re being chased out of it by assassins, plague, wolves ( actual wolves ), or worse. ‘Dark Matter ? ‘ It ‘s a whole bag of barbecue chips, man. And it ‘s barely sitting there waiting for you to devour in one seat .
Jason, of course, is fair trying to get back to his own, good life and his own, dependable reality, but that ‘s tough, you see, because a multiverse filled with space worlds means an infinite number of ways to get it wrong. Which Jason does, for a truly retentive fourth dimension, accompanied by a ticking-time-bomb trope of a limited count of vials of SCIENCE which allow him to skip between realities. He starts with a lot. very quickly, he is down to a few, the clock ticking.
And that is when crouch pulls off the big magic trick that makes it all worthwhile — a cause of death twist that is black, dismay, amusing as hell, bizarre, completely earned and absolutely original all at the same time. ( It ‘s deserving noting that Crouch is besides the guy who wrote the Wayward Pines trilogy on which the recent television series was based, and which had its own reasonably wicked spin ending. ) And better however, he sells it. When everything on the spur of the moment slows down, locks up and starts to spin, he makes the stakes matter. Which is when I ended up in the elevator, riding up and down, completely hooked by a book that I simply could n’t put down. Jason Sheehan is an ex-chef, a early restaurant critic and the current food editor of Philadelphia cartridge holder. But when no one is looking, he spends his time writing books about spaceships, aliens, elephantine robots and re guns. Tales From the Radiation Age is his latest book .