Roadmarks by Roger Zelazny
186 pages
Published 1979
Read from July 15 to July 20
Rating: ★★★½ out of 5
This is the kind of rip-roaring science-fantasy insanity that only could have been published in the late '70s to late '80s, adhering to the esthetic principle, "If it's awesome, throw it in." In it, a Road is willed into being by cosmic dragons, a Road which connects all times and adjusts itself to modified timelines, altering and bifurcating as necessary to access different histories. People from all periods tool along this Road in everything from chariots to future cars to our hero's blue pickup truck -- if there's an image more emblematic of late '70s or early '80s sci-fi, I don't know it. Our hero is a typical Zelaznyan blank slate, tough and effortlessly competent and not a little bit lucky, who shrugs off assassination attempts with ease; half the time he's already friends with those beings sent to slay him. The Marquis de Sade rides a T. rex, a martial arts scene gets thrown in just because, and the book ends with all our friends off to grab a beer in Ur: "They always have good beer in Ur." Oh, and one of the dragons ends up fucking the tyrannosaur, because that's what kind of book this is.
There's nothing deep or profound here, just a splendidly what-the-fuck adventure and a perfect specimen of its time and genre.
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