http://www.raintaxi.com/lost-empress/ ( )

I'm going to read it again and again. There was a reviewer quote "exuberant, precise fiction" and that's exactly how I feel. I went back to back with naked singularity and this is even better while being more extreme. Naked singularity peaked maybe 80% in and then we had to deal with the aftermath, this built to the last page. I'll admit I found the physicist character a little much, it felt like he wanted to have the same almost-Haruki-Murakami ending as in naked singularity, but overall so good. I read it in audiobook and it was just amazing, a whole cast of characters. The dialogue is stellar, best I've ever read, witty and fun and sharp ( )

So, we have a writer with no small talent and an intellect of scope and depth. What could go wrong? Lots, it seems. Having not read the author's previous work, "A Naked Singularity", my observations will be limited to this novel.

Another reviewer described this work as self-indulgent. I am inclined to agree. Often it seems that the author (somewhat transparently) uses the plot as a vehicle to display his intellect and breath of knowledge rather than contributing to a story line or character development. One can certainly display those assets in a novel but this author seems to do so in a clumsy fashion.

In terms of plot there is a fine line between hip and stupid. Although that boundary is admittedly often in the eye of the beholder, this reviewer is inclined to see this work in the latter category.

Some characters appear to be painfully urealistic and stereotyped to a point of condescension. The author seems to lose track of the fact that some people actually do live those roles and should be treated with more dignity and respect than this author provides.

Lest one think I have no appreciation for post-modern literature, I am happy to provide a couple of recommendations of stellar works in that genre. Namely, "Novel Explosives" by Jim Gauer or "Vilnius Poker" by Ricardas Gavelis.

Although there are parts of this work that are thought-provoking, by-and-large, I can't say it was a worthwhile read. ( )

this is like 600 pages of the worst unfunny (but still overly jokey) parts of a lesser Pynchon novel, but in prose that stylistically could not be biting David Foster Wallace's corpse's ass any harder. ( )

Does anyone these days have the time to read a 640-page novel? I made the time and was glad of it! This remarkable book came to me as a reviewer for crimefictionlover.com, and it bucks convention in more ways than its length.
In all those pages, a lot happens—interesting, challenging stuff you won’t find in a typical novel. It includes a meditation on Time, an evisceration of professional football, a hilarious take-down of the U.S. health care system, an exploration of the meaning of loneliness and the futility of religion. Fundamentally, however, it’s a kaleidoscopic, postmodern approach to the question “what is justice?” All the while, Sergio de la Pava’s sly sense of humor keeps the pages turning, as situations at first merely odd spiral out of control like a poorly judged forward pass.
Characters are described with juicy details that make their stories tantalizing, and as the story settles down, two principal characters emerge. The first is Nina Gill, former co-owner and brains behind the wildly successful Dallas Cowboys. Family maneuvering gives her a football team of her own—not the Cowboys, the decidedly non-competitive Paterson (N.J.) Pork. Nina is a woman who gets what she wants, and what she mostly wants is a winning football team. The NFL players are in a lockout, the owners have cancelled the season, and gutsy Nina recruits men desperate to play. Her second-in-command is college student Dia Nouveau, and the laugh-out-loud banter between tough Nina and can-do Dia is like the script for a screwball comedy, sometimes even written in script format.
Nuno DeAngelis is a career lawbreaker headed to Rikers Island. Nuno is a philosopher. “They can put him in Rikers, but they can’t make him live there.” The story of his life in prison, how he gets out and back in again, is written in what you might call a suprarealistic style, not as gritty crime drama, but floating somewhere above reality. But, since he’s there, his various connections give him assignments: avenge a vehicular homicide, snatch a Salvador Dali painting Nina wants . . . you know, the usual prison malarkey. Nuno writes his own brief for his Grand Jury proceeding, and it’s both expletive-laced and morally persuasive.
Trying to give a sense of the plot of a novel this sprawling is probably irrelevant. De la Pava has created a three-ring circus involving clowns, daredevils, and high-wire performers, creating extraordinary characters from people engaged in seemingly ordinary activities—a 911 call transcriber, a man caring for his ailing mother, a parking garage operator, a priest in a dwindling parish, and a failed doctor who becomes the Paterson Pork mascot.
De la Pava’s first novel, 2008’s A Naked Singularity, was originally self-published, but when the University of Chicago Press discovered and republished it in 2012, it received the PEN/Bingham Prize for best debut novel of the year. His is a refreshing and unforgettable voice, one that busts out of the boxes of both crime and literary fiction, stretching the form and the reader as well. ( )