As its dual authors Arthur C. Clarke and Stephen Baxter are quick to point out, TIME’S EYE is the first of a two-part TIME ODYSSEY series that is neither a prequel nor a sequel to Clarke’s 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY, but rather exists “at right angles” to it, as an “orthoquel,” whatever that means. Though it pays tribute to 2001 in both tone and direct reference to its most famous line, TIME’S EYE is its own thing.
More Baxter than Clarke, it tells an epic story of glowing gold spheres that suddenly and inexplicably appear hovering at various points around the world. Coinciding with this event is that time ceases to exist on a timeline, instead occuring all at once. In other words, apes from millions of years ago now share the planet with the people of the 21st century. Thus, Russian cosmonauts and British intelligence experts (including a not-yet-famous Rudyard Kipling) find themselves caught between a war fought between Alexander the Great and Genghis Khan.
The premise is greatly interesting, if somewhat unfulfilled, since the book has essentially been cut into two parts, KILL BILL-style, leaving most of the loose threads dangling. Because of this bitter aftertaste, TIME’S EYE is merely good instead of great.
Now in paperback, SUNSTORM is the second half of the TIME ODYSSEY series.
In 2037, scientists determine that – much to their horror – the sun is due to unload a torpedo of energy in 2042 that will effectively wipe the Earth clean, so the great thinkers of Earth, Moon and Mars work together to find a solution – or at least part of one – before time runs out.
Overall, I liked SUNSTORM, too, but since its premise is ready-made for a disaster movie (a lot of it resembles a brainier DEEP IMPACT), it doesn’t feel like a true sequel to TIME’S EYE, especially given that book’s cliffhanger ending. And strangely, the titular storm at the end is actually the least interesting thing about it. –Rod Lott
BONUS XXX-CERPT: “Kolya hesitated. ‘Did Genghis take you to his bed?’ She smiled. ‘I knew he would be put off by my clean flesh. So I took a little dung from his favorite horse, and rubbed it in my scalp. I even rolled around in the dirt a bit. It worked. And you know, he liked my skin. The smoothness – the absence of disease scars. He may not like hygiene, but he likes it results.’ Her face darkened. ‘He took me from behind. The Mongols make love about as subtly as they wage war. Some day that hard-faced bastard will pay for that.’”





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