Limited Wish is the second in Mark Lawrence’s Impossible
Times series. It’s a book that’s equal parts time travel physics, teenage romance,
Dungeons and Dragons, and snappy, fast-paced action.
I say equal parts. At the heart of it, this is the story of
Nick Hayes. When we last ran into Nick, he was escaping from a psychotic killer,
and saving his own reality by (maybe) following the instructions of his future
self. Nick is, it must be said, used to some weird stuff. Between the
time-travel shenanigans and his own terminal cancer (now in remission), Nick’s
been having a fairly hard time. Mind you, he’s also been having adventures
nobody else would believe.
As we come into the new book, we find Nick at university. Always a mathematical prodigy, he’s managed to
finagle his way into a relationship with a professor researching the mechanics
of time. This is, as one might expect, fraught with difficulties. The funding
for this research comes from obscure and obfuscated sources, with a face which
isn’t averse to turning up at the lab and asking for a demonstration, or even a
change of direction. The shadowy nature fo the funding adds a certain spice to
the proceedings. While Nick is working his own angles, trying to work out how
to shape a future which he may already have seen glimpses of, there are other
forces shifting at the boundaries of his understanding. Still, the central
issues which face him feel central to the narrative, and each is delivered with
a raw energy which will tear the reader inside-out.
This is good stuff. Nick feels real, sure enough. His
struggles feel genuine, and his own lack of confidence that things will work
out help keep the tension bound within the story. Seeing events unfurl through
Nick’s eyes means we see the metaphorical device tick down, unable to think of
a way to contain or stop it – and we stand alongside the narrator whilst they
struggle so hard to do so. Nick’s insecurities, failures, difficulties, honesty
and decent-ness are all familiar; that’s in no doubt. But in their immediacy,
in the closeness of their feeling, and in the raw veracity of their energy,
those feelings make Nick real. He’s a living, breathing person bound between
pages, an awkward adolescent under seismic pressure, trying to do the right
thing while trying to understand what the right thing even is. But as part of
that struggle, we have to recognise Nick’s fierce intelligence between the
pages, and his own furious vulnerability and mortality. This is not someone who
wants to die, and they’re willing to bend the universe to prevent it.
Happily, a lot of what stands true for the previous book is
also the case here. The world is, for those of us that existed in it, instantly
familiar. The scent of cigarette smoke in pubs, the slang, the less modern
approach to sexuality – they all carry the fevered scent of the era. If you managed
to skip it on your own, this may seem like a fever dream; if not, it’s likely
to feel as familiar as a second skin. To Nick, this is modernity, to us
history. But it lives and breathes for us as much as for him, a world that
knows our memories and won’t let go. I guess what I’m saying is, if you weren’t
there, you may feel like you were, and laugh at the oddity of it; if you were
there, you may well feel the same. It’s a well-drawn memory of the period, and
one which evokes the memory enough to feel real without also revelling in
nostalgia. There’s old songs, sure, there’s familiar neighbourhoods; but there’s
the old prejudices too, and old blood on people’s hands.
Still, Nick and his gang are a constant delight. They’re
personable, and crackling with the sort
of energy that defines long-tie friends. They’re willing to walk the line for
each other, to take risks – and also to murder Orcs and delve dungeons for each
other. The D&D gives a certain geek cachet, but it also helps to shape the
mood of the text, of a set of friends fighting against an unutterable evil and
triumphing alongside, or in spite of each other. The parallels are there, but
the mechanics also serve to ground the story I friendship, in personal
relationships, in the emotional, human core, rather than in the snappy happenings
of other sections.
Speaking of which. If everything is a compelling blend of
the strange and the familiar. If the world is one which stalks the edges of nostalgia,
then twists with a jagged edge. If the characters seem like old friends, but
with difficult choices in front of them, then the same can be said of the plot.
No spoilers, of course, but it’s talking about our relationship with time, on
the one hand, and about what we’re willing to sacrifice for our goals, on the other.
There’s a sense of free will and destiny, yes, but also of people trying to
shape their own truths in a world determined to shape them. This is a story
about people who are willing to fight back, to take the weight, to do the right
thing. It’s also a story about illness, about family, about one boy’s struggle
to become the person he wants to be – oh, and about a romance, perhaps. About
what two people will be vulnerable enough to let themselves feel.
Is it a good book? Yes. This is whip-smart science fiction.
It unapologetically asks big questions, and lets the characters and the reader
work out the answers. It’s also honest, bringing a depth of understanding and
emotion to all of its characters, giving them the depth they need to feel real.
The story is gripping, fast-paced and
believable, with a drumbeat of tension which won’t let you put it down until
you’re done.
In short, this is a cracking sequel, and a great story in its
own right. Give it a try.
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