Christopher Priest is one of the greatest writers of science fiction of both the 20th and 21st centuries. He's not a one-trick pony: he doesn't rinse and repeat as so many genre authors do. He doesn't write cheap fiction; there is human substance to his ouevre. And his ideas are original—or at least off the center of the bell curve. 2013's The Adjacent just very well be the culmination of everything Priest wrote—in a good way.
The Adjacent is a patchwork quilt. (It's probably more an Escher tesseract, but that metaphor proved difficult to sustain.) The first patch is a near-future in which journalist Tarent covers a Europe degraded by climate change and social upheaval. As the book opens (patch appears?), Tarent is mourning the death of his wife who was killed under mysterious circumstances. Only a burned black triangle remains on the ground where she had been standing, something Tarent reflects on during his return journey to the Islamic Republic of Great Britain. In the second patch, an illusionist named Tommy Trent joins Britain's World War I effort. As an airman, he attempts to use the tricks of his trade to disguise warplanes. The third patch takes elements of the first two and changes the colors. The fourth patch takes the first three and changes the pattern. The fifth patch...







