Have you ever read a book you found impossible to rate with conventional stars? You loved it but it irritated you. You couldn’t put it down but you were reluctant to pick it up again. You know you’ll think long about it but you really don’t want to think about it anymore. You want to recommend it to your friends but you’re afraid they’ll hate you for it. It creeps into your dreams but it’s rather like a dream itself—one of those clinging ones you’re desperate to wake from—but once you do wake you can’t wait to go back to sleep again. You give up and rate it five stars anyway because it’s special and should be paid attention to but impossible to summarize with any coherence because plot happens but not in conventional ways and it really won’t be everybody’s cup of tea, although many cups of tea are consumed in the novel. It’s a great swirling cup of many brews, many liquids, actually, that has you asking, “What the hell am I drinking?”

Thus ends my review of The Sunken Land Begins to Rise Again by M. John Harrison.