Alright. Lets talk about Last Exit, a standalone novel from Max Gladstone. A story about people jumping between worlds and back again. Sometimes those worlds are physical, real things that show us different versions of ourselves. And sometimes those words are all in the mind, living out the story of what was and what could have been, the loss of promise, the loss of pride and what you’re willing to sacrifice, or hold onto, and why.
Which is all a bit vague, but believe me when I tell you, first of all, that Max Gladstone is one of the finest writers working in science fiction today, and secondly, that even for him, this is a damn fine book.It’s one that will challenge you, make you think. But also one which will make you feel, from the razored pain in your gut as inevitable tragedies roll on, to the searing hope of the struggle against them. And, you know, it’s also got a story in there sharp enough and smart enough that I was found reading it at 3am, even though I knew I was getting up with a tired child a few hours later. That may make me an idiot, but it speaks to the power of the prose between the covers on this one.
Zelda is, at least arguably, the protagonist. At university, she learned to skip between parallel realities, and taught her friends. They were an adventuring party of questers, heroe sin search of a grail - looking to turn back a tide of rot which was shattering the worlds they found. And then, at the last, at hideous cost, they failed. The survivors scattered to the winds, to live their lives, to forget what they’d sene, or to prepare for it. Only Zelda was left, walking the ways between the worlds, a penance and a punishment in one. But now, things have changed. Now, Zelda has to get her team back together, despite the losses, despite the scars, despite history or lack of it. Or their world is going to end.
The book promises a lot in that premise, and I’ll say this, it absolutely, one hundred percent delivers. From shattered dystopian hellscapes filled with flesh-eating annites, to Mad-Max style road-warriors, from bandit camps to eldritch castles, we can see a whole host of worlds other than our own, imaginatively constructed, as real as we feel them to be, and as horrifying, too. This is a book showing us our future in a handful of dust. And our own world has that lived in feel, too. The glint of grit and sheen of slime over chrome that makes us feel a little on edge outside the door. The smiles and rages of passers-by, the sorts fields, the halloween parties, the quiet drinks and intimate encounters that give us all life and feeling are, well, all there. This is a space which blends unreality with the real, and makes it feel true.
Part of that is the characters, of course. In large part who they are, their shared history, quiet wounds and old loves, those are revealed through the course of the text. Which…makes them rather hard to talk about. So, we can talk a little about Zelda, who we meet first, and we can talk broadly about her supporting cast without spoiling anything. And I have to say, I do rather like Zelda. She’s a walking wound on the world, a scarred over trauma looking for an excuse to be done with everything, to wash her hand sof all of it. To atone for losses she thinks she caused, living with her own hubris, her own mistakes, and arguing against her past self whose notions of heroism and pride led her toward what she feels is a catastrophic error, an error from which other people bore the cost. Hardened, perhaps not, but calloused, yes - living an existence on the boundaries, on the space between things, Zelda is counting the cost of old choices. Trying to save the world one incident at a time, scouring the country to fight back a tide of things that almost no-one else knows about, and even fewer are able to convince themselves to care about. Zelda is worn, and tired, and the only thing she’s more done with than your shit is her own. Zelda is worn down, smart, exhausted, bitter, and so wrapped up in her own anti-legend that she maybe doesn’t have the best perspectiv eon things.
And that’s true of all of her friends, to be fair. The survivors of the team that failed to save everything years ago. They’re still, in some ways, living in that past. Trying to move on from it in their own ways, or reacting to it, defending themselves from a trauma deep and real and painful, looking back at their own youth and trying to understand it, make it make sense. These are people who have been hurt, paid a price for what they thought was something, and came to nothing, people who have seen the cost of believing the narrative - but who also know their friends, know them as people, love them, and don’t know how to make the world and their friendships stand together.There’s…a lot that will get unpacke dhere, about truth and the lies we tell ourselves. About age old pain, about hurt and how it shapes us as children, as adults.. About how we chose to be who we are, shaping the things that shape us in turn. And about the power of hope, and love, and friendship, and how even when those things may not be enough, they can be enough.
This is a story about how people who failed ot save the world are going to have to try again. About love and loss, about tragedy and understanding, and deciding who we are as people, who we want to be. About trying to change the world, in one way or another, and about deciding to do better, to be better. It’s a fierce, fiery gem of a book, one with edges so sharp you’ll cut yourself, and a light so bright it’ll show you things you’ve never seen before. It’s a damn fine story, and very much something you’ll want to read.
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