Most time travel stories are insanely convoluted, completely un-understandable, and apparently bent on making the reader feel as if they are the only one who doesn’t get the joke. Felix Parma’s “The Map of Time” is not like that book. It’s a rare creature indeed: a time travel novel with a linear, completely understandable narrative.
The characters are hard to confuse. They each have their own distinct plots and functions, and the plots meet each other neatly. And the story keeps on driving forward.
This book is lucid, well-written, and most of all, fun as hell. It perfectly paints a Victorian world view, and characters whose actions make sense within that world. The internal logic remains intact–quite a feat in a novel that gets VERY meta at times–and every twist in the mystery of the novel’s plot has the satisfying ability to be foreseen by the reader.
I had a ton of fun reading this; no matter if I was a bit bored at the beginning, I was barreling through it delightedly at the end.
Fav quote: What mysterious alchemy could make these imitations appear more vivid than the real thing? The answer was obvious: the passage of time, which transformed the volatile present into that finished, unalterable painting called the past, a canvas man always executed blindly, with erratic brushstrokes that only made sense when one stepped far enough away from it to be able to admire it as a whole.