This book begins with a rather startling Herman’s Hermits (or, if you’re younger, a Carpenters) reference, which was promising, as was the zeroth chapter – and I will say that Robson’s descriptive writing is a joy – but I found as time went on I just couldn’t get to grips with it. As with Robson’s Mappa Mundi there is a deal of info-dumping and the subject matter is also complex but the major problem was the multiplicity of viewpoint characters, each of whom got a shot at narration for a short while before another took over. This is not necessarily a severe drawback, it works very well for George R R Martin in his Song Of Ice And Fire volumes, but each character there gets an extended chapter; here it entailed too much disruption to the flow.

The nearest I can summarise the plot is that Earth is no longer alone, entry to other worlds/existences is possible via portals/bridges through which we are taken at different times into these various places. There is also much mention of different dimensional universes, our own familiar one of four and those with seven and eleven. The main character is Jalaeka, a kind of shapeshifter with a colourful past, who seems to be a detached fragment of a higher dimensional entity called Unity which wants him/her/it back. Jalaeka is attractive to humans – especially Francine, the main female lead – and is described, and describes him/her/itself as a kind of God.

I don’t like to give up on a book so I persevered and, yes, it does have things to say about redemption – even if we have to endure some graphic scenes before that becomes apparent – and about the permanence of love, but in the end I found it a chore to read.

The fault is likely mine. After all, Living Next Door To The God Of Love was nominated for several awards. However, for various reasons at time of reading I wasn’t able to give it quite the attention it obviously demands.

In the spirit of fairness here’s a link to a reviewer who made more of it than I did.

Another doorstopper, 465 pages this time. Just as well I was on holiday.
I’m not quite sure about this book. The characters are not so distinctive as they were in Robson’s earlier novel Silver Screen. This may be because the plot is rattling along, a factor which unfortunately involves a lot of info dumping, and Robson may have invested more of her efforts in those directions. Also back stories are filled in on occasion, a habit which I dislike, but, hey, she’s up there with Mailer on that one.
The science-fictional element is two-fold; a kind of nanotech virus software (MappaWare) which can affect the brain (“stir its contents with a spoon” – effectively resetting people, then) and a 100% replication delivery system. The possibilities for bad uses of such a technology are obvious but some of the characters see also the good which could result.
Premature testing of all this stuff is the engine which sets the plot off but there are no fewer than seven “false starts” – establishing motivation for some of the characters – where earlier incidents in their lives are recounted, before we get down to the nitty-gritty.
There is plenty of spy story type skullduggery and betrayal (is this a Robson trait? –see my infinity plus review of Keeping It Real) an obligatory bit of sex but, surprisingly, not much violence; in the course of all of which two of the characters transcend humanity in a way which stretches credulity a touch.
It’s not an easy read, the ideas are too dense for that – but they are nevertheless followable. However, the major flaw, in a novel where questions of identity are central, is that the two characters most changed by MappaWare did not behave/read much differently after the change than they did before it.
Still, if you like near future techno-thriller type stuff with reasonable characterisation you won’t be disappointed.