Book Review : The Book of Strange New Things by Michel Faber



People and their dwellings were such a thin dust on the surface of the globe, like invisible specks of bacteria on an orange, and the feeble lights of kebab shops and supermarkets failed utterly to register on the infinities of space above. If it weren’t for God, the almighty vacuum would be too crushing to endure, but once God was with you, it was a different story.

The word which best defines this novel, for me, is disintegration. Slow, terrifying disintegration: of faith, of civilization, and of human relationships.

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                                 Sixteen, sixteen.

        You’re labyrinthine
You’re nothing

like the songs
Nothing like

what they told me

bone by
slippery bone
I re-
hash my body,
my mind
like a child with

               wooden blocks

                                           like a space-chef
with a plastic spoon

                                                        Playing. Failing.
Stirring. Crying.

I’m like a

                  Jenga tower

                                                and every person

                                                                                       who passes me
takes a block.

I’m wobbling.

I’ve lost it.
I’ve lost
the thread –

the end is


in the middle.
The beginning is

right at

the end.                 Lost it.