Somnopolis

This one will be brief, as I have learned to my cost that criticising Mr Hamilton, author of The Night’s Dawn Trilogy, online is tantamount to waving a red flag at a large bull. Whose hooves have been specially filed so it can type up its literary opinions.

Anyway, why do I hate Peter F. Hamilton’s patented brand of space opera?

Bionic genitals. It’s that simple. The Reality Dysfunction deserves to have won the Bad Sex Award retroactively every year since its publication in 1996. Of course, due to it being locked in the sf ghetto folk like Melvyn Bragg get the kudos, but seriously, judges of terrible literary sex, I implore you to consider the merits of Mr Hamilton.

Said enhanced genitals ensure that the adventures of our hero as he bedhops across the stars during a galactic crisis are long and unendurable. See that’s why I really hate them. It’s not prudery on my part. The conceit actually lengthens the tiresome description of the sex itself!

There’s also unpleasant scenes with possessed cadavers being transformed into rotting zombies sprouting spines; or a stage Irishman ressurected in the far future who is indistinguishable from the racist caricatures of 19c Punch magazine.

But that’s just a side-dish of awfulness. Bionic genitals people. Yuck.