Greg Egan’s work isn’t for everyone. I know this old refrain gets trotted out a lot, but his novels really are a love ‘em or hate ‘em type deal. Even his most avid fans would probably acknowledge that the fine-grained scientific exposition that fill his pages can be excessive, yet at the same time that’s part of their appeal: Egan’s books are unrelentingly meticulous explorations of mathematics, transhumanism, philosophy and physics.
I’ve never read anything quite like them.
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