Sitting down to review Theatre of the Gods this morning, I tried four or five introductions on for size before settling on this artless admission. In one, I wondered about the worth of first impressions; in another, I took to task the formula so much contemporary science fiction follows. I attempted academia; I had a stab at something snappy.
Nothing seemed quite right.
Hours had passed before I realised my mistake, which is to say there is no right way to start discussing M. Sudain’s debut; no single question I could ask, or statement make, which would somehow inform all that follows... because Theatre of the Gods is like nothing else I have ever read.
Large parts of it are certainly reminiscent of novels by an array of other genre authors: I’d name Nick Harkaway, but also Adam Roberts, Ned Beauman, Felix J. Palma and K. J. Parker. At points, Suddain put me in mind of Mark Z. Danielewski, even. So no, it’s not entirely original. Call it a composite, or literary patchwork, perhaps. Yet it’s stitched together with such vision and ambition that it feels completely unique.