View source for Theatre of the Gods by M Suddain

{{infobox
|title=Theatre of the Gods
|author=M Suddain
|reviewer=John Lloyd
|genre=Science Fiction
|rating=3.5
|buy=Maybe
|borrow=Maybe
|isbn=9780099575641
|pages=640
|publisher=Vintage
|date=June 2014
|amazonuk=<amazonuk>0099575647</amazonuk>
|amazonus=<amazonus>0099575647</amazonus>
|website=
|video=
|summary=A galumphing sci-fi opera, which takes all sorts and then some – but which will follow the Marmite stereotype to a T.  Love it, hate it?  Like the yeast extract, I didn't mind it – but would never choose more.
}}
M Francisco Fabrigas – unfortunate Arsenal FC connection aside – is worthy of your attention.  For not only has he proven to be one of the longer-lasting humans in this universe, he has also been in other universes.  And at the same, other universe's Fabrigas's have come to visit us – or is it the other way round?  Either way, he has been engaged in an epic adventure where he ends up on a moon full of toxic plants, and inside dread behemoths, and fought to make his way through various universes against galactic popes and worse, all in the company of two unfortunate young people – a vicious and caring deaf lad who is more or less a kung-fu-powered computer chip, and a caring but blind young female saviour.  Both are needed to save the universe – or was it fewer of them, but more universes?  This book is the much-sought-after, long-lost, often-censored account of his derring-do, as close to being from the horse's mouth as is possible, and with the sheer complexity of the circumstances and contrivances on every page, we should be grateful.

The fact that I was not fully grateful needs justifying, then.  This is sci-fi, and while I don't read it religiously, I cannot forsake the genre of my youth.  This is a sci-fi that is willing to quote Talking Heads lyrics, and in fact be quite imbued with '80s pop – a space shanty here quotes the song 'Jessie's Girl'.  This is a book that takes about two hundred pages to admit that, actually, one of its characters is invisible.  This is a book that breaks away sometime towards the end to physically demand its reviewers include the word HOMUNCULUS in their output to prove we're still with it (see what I did there?).

You can tell from that that never have the words hodge and podge been so aptly put together.  This is a universe/multiverse/book where basic character interaction is to the fore, but set against both primitive, animalistic worlds and an existence where man has made his own artificial solar systems.  I would take that and run with it and say that it's like the big brother of ''Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy'', but it didn't really remind me of that.  If anything, it is like a British – and the comedy is definitely, gloriously English – and sci-fi [[:Category:Walter Moers|Walter Moers]].

There is the entire shaggy-doggedness of the story to back me up on that, not least that this is introduced as a story-within-a-story, a secret tome from a special, unique publisher, finding an unfindable and presenting the unpresented for our delectation.  There is the word-play (again, far too British to be Moers, even in translation) and references to obscure music, which either dropped off or I became immune to.

But there is also the problem I found in the [[The Labyrinth of Dreaming Books by Walter Moers|last Moers book]] – that of the author losing control.  Just as that German did with child-friendly fantasy, so this author, behind his anonymous name, can do anything and everything with sci-fi, but mistakes that for an invitation to do just so.  So while there is nothing inherently wrong with this book, so much could have been better.  It could have been shorter – go on, take a number between one and a hundred, and that percentage is how much it could have been reduced by.  It goes too much off-kilter, willy-nilly putting us and the characters into situations that might be mildly interesting, but take too long to get out of.  It gives us great characters – not least the youngsters mentioned above there is the universe/multiverse/oh shut up John, you get the message – there is a very good mind-controller, but the way he (spoiler alert) is defeated is just one too many instances of this book both having its cake and eating it, and leaving us with nothing.

There is also the stinking feeling, reached at a point far too close to halfway, that this is the first book in a trilogy. And here I put my foot down.  Fantasy and sci-fi are unique in that you can do practically anything you want to.  But it doesn't mean that you should.  This book revels in the fact that it does – just witness the blurb quote on the front cover, of it being a 'mad bastard of a book'.  I didn't mind the 80s pop, I couldn't object to the world building and humorous contrivances that pepper the narrative from the fore-pages to the end – but I could dismiss the book as being too lumpen and random, too bizarre and up-itself for its own good, and just too damn long.   A little of this goes a long way – and it's 620pp long and not finished yet.  You may relish in the mad bastard – and there are a couple of those here, either on the page or responsible for it – but I could not as much as I expected.

I must thank the publishers for my review copy.

I'll go out on a limb and say that the [[:Category:Chris Wooding|Chris Wooding]] series starting with [[Retribution Falls by Chris Wooding|Retribution Falls]] has some of the DNA of this book, but can reduce the puerile longueurs for the sake of amusing, high-octane drama.  [[The Forever Watch by David Ramirez]] is another soaring space-ship set plot.

{{amazontext|amazon=0099575647}}
{{amazonUStext|amazon=0099575647}}

{{commenthead}}