This veers perilously close to a "subjective" argument, which I want even less than an argument in general.
The first half dozen or so books by Greg Egan are among my favorite science fiction ever, up there with Pohl and Cherryh. Then his interesting dalliance with speculative physics (Schild's Ladder) advanced to unreadable tedium, worse…
This veers perilously close to a "subjective" argument, which I want even less than an argument in general.
The first half dozen or so books by Greg Egan are among my favorite science fiction ever, up there with Pohl and Cherryh. Then his interesting dalliance with speculative physics (Schild's Ladder) advanced to unreadable tedium, worsened by his new fascination with Iranian culture, and I put Zendegi and Clockwork Rocket into a trash bin.
Yet once in a while he does a short story every bit as good as Distress or Permutation City.
Just as all my favorite progressive bands went pop or just lost it, I can't expect a writer to maintain the same quality all his life.
This veers perilously close to a "subjective" argument, which I want even less than an argument in general.
The first half dozen or so books by Greg Egan are among my favorite science fiction ever, up there with Pohl and Cherryh. Then his interesting dalliance with speculative physics (Schild's Ladder) advanced to unreadable tedium, worsened by his new fascination with Iranian culture, and I put Zendegi and Clockwork Rocket into a trash bin.
Yet once in a while he does a short story every bit as good as Distress or Permutation City.
Just as all my favorite progressive bands went pop or just lost it, I can't expect a writer to maintain the same quality all his life.