Chris Beckett brings literary flair and sociological insight to his award-winning science fiction, and his seventh novel, Beneath the World, a Sea (Corvus, £17.99), is no exception. Repressed London policeman Ben Ronson, a specialist in “culturally sanctioned crimes”, is sent by the UN to the strange realm of the Submundo Delta, in South America. With its own flora and fauna and a zone that induces amnesia, the Delta is unlike anywhere else on Earth: visitors find themselves stranded in an affectless psychological Sargasso. Creole settlers have been killing the native lifeforms known as duendes, humanoid creatures who have a destabilising psychic effect on the minds of observers. Ronson is tasked with bringing an end to the killings, but his interactions with the residents, tourists and scientists – who have their own shady reasons for visiting the Delta – lead to a Kafkaesque rite of passage in which he must come to terms with his dark inner self. Beckett is superb at undercutting reader assumptions with a casual line of dialogue or acute psychological observation: the book reads like Conrad’s Heart of Darkness reimagined by JG Ballard.
Jane Rawson’s award-winning From the Wreck (Picador, £14.99) is founded on historical fact: in 1859 the steamship Admella was wrecked off Australia with the loss of more than 100 lives. Only two passengers survived, one of them being George Hills, Rawson’s great-great-grandfather. In the novel George saves the second survivor, a woman who later mysteriously disappears. The story is told from George’s point of view as he is haunted by survivor guilt, and from the viewpoint of the woman, who turns out to be a shape-shifting alien. The power of this singular novel lies in Rawson’s ability to meld seemingly disparate narrative elements into a convincing whole that movingly explores themes of loss, loneliness and guilt.
MT Hill’s third novel Zero Bomb (Titan, £8.99) takes a long, hard look at what Britain might become, and the prospects aren’t rosy. In a grim near-future, books considered subversive are banned, every citizen is closely monitored, and non-Christian religions have been proscribed. After the death of his seven-year-old daughter, Remi leaves his wife and drifts aimlessly, fetching up in London and working as a bicycle courier delivering subversive literature and art. Hill paints a moving portrait of a grief-stricken man questioning his very existence in a nightmarish post-Brexit England. Events turn even nastier when a driverless car tries to kill him: Remi finds himself involved with a revolutionary Luddite sect whose bible is a 1970s science fiction novel, and who claim that his daughter might still be alive. Hill has created a hero for our times whose journey towards the truth is compulsively readable.
Another dystopia featuring a near-future England governed by manipulative rightwing politicians arrives in the shape of NJ Crosskey’s hard-hitting debut Poster Boy (Legend, £8.99). When Tommy Lincoln, high on drugs and larking about on a bridge, accidentally tumbles to his death, he just happens to fall on to a van belonging to rebels opposed to the government of prime minister Jeremy Cole – a tragedy that inadvertently saves the PM’s life. Expert media-manipulator Cole then utilises the boy’s death to claim him as a saviour of the nation, the poster boy of the title. Opposing this lie are Tommy’s sister Rosa, sickened by the government and its manipulation of her dead brother, and Teresa Clarke, a double agent working for the government as a cyberspace technician who will stop at nothing to topple Cole and force the England Reclamation Party from power. Crosskey propels the plot at breakneck pace, depicts a frighteningly realistic world of self-serving politicians, and conjures a truly poignant denouement.
In outline, Arkady Martine’s first novel A Memory Called Empire (Tor, £16.99) is straight out of a 1950s space opera. Ambassador Mahit Dzmare is sent from the mining space station of Lsel to the capital of the omnipotent Texicalaanli Empire, only to discover on arrival that her predecessor has been killed. It falls to her to work out why, and what the ramifications might mean for her homeworld. So far, so familiar: but this first instalment in a series turns out to be cutting edge, addressing issues of gender roles in society and cultural appropriation. While Mahit has been groomed for the role of ambassador for years, and relates to many aspects of the sprawling empire, she can also appreciate its malign influence on her own fiercely independent homeworld, and this tension informs the continuing story of complex political intrigue. Martine wraps up her debut with a satisfying finale, but leaves several loose ends to be explored in book two.
• Eric Brown’s latest novel is Murder Served Cold (Severn House)
